Day 7 of Treatment - Anna

A shocking beginning to treatment. Naledi has had workmen in her house. One was hired, but he came with others, and instead of doing the work, unsupervised whilst she has been away, they have wrecked her house, breaking her crockery and glasses, taking bricks and tiles and cutting off her plugs to use elsewhere. She has thanked them for their work and paid them off, in full. There is no-one to complain to - the police cannot be trusted and the community is not strong enough. She daren’t object because this could attract a violent reaction. She is worried for her daughter. None of us can visit her because that too would be dangerous. This is a reflection of the social breakdown which has happened here  - many of the townships are very dangerous places - poverty, AIDS and drug and alcohol use fuelling violent behaviour and crime.  When you ask people what they like and dislike of this country, invariably the no 1 dislike is “crime” - street crime, and corruption amongst  some of those who do have power.

The treatment is lovely. The field has built up, so that the television crackles, and most of those who are not being treated feel a kind of tension, even bad headaches.  I just feel that the air seems different in the room.  More lively. Naledi feels very supported - but what can we do, of any real value?  I can normally think of something, but here, little. She is such a good person, and any community would be blessed to have her at its heart. Something very sad about the loss of connection, such that this is possible.

Tumelo’s hands are twisting. I wonder if he is worrying about the damage to Naledi’s house, but he says no. He is thinking about the things he used to do - Karate - he was a green belt - the things he used to dream of achieving - will he be able to do them after all? And he is thinking of his children - four children, three mothers, all avoiding him. I suggest that if he models the behaviour he would like to see from them, it may happen. I tell him that when I want my son to clean his room, I clean my own. It is the best I can manage, and true.  I hope it works. 

A friend of Danielle and Michaela's, international musician Guy Buttery, plays for us during the treatment - http://www.guybuttery.co.za/. Next week, he will be in London, and I will still be here. We talk of flamenco, of the mix of anarchy and discipline.  It feels very special to be sitting in this small group, with so much excellence. Fine spirits. All of us here thinking dreaming and plotting as to how we can get this out into he world. How can we be the best ambassadors? This treatment has been stuck for so long. We want it out. We are fed up with politicians‘ promises - want action. Some hopeful words - once we have results, if they are as we hope they will be, we may be able to get this taken up by one of the big companies. One will be enough...In the meantime, we plot - there are so many people who would like to be treated, and all we need is some money to fund that. Not a lot. Even in South Africa, where anti-retroviral are made available at the lowest prices, and where life expectancy after an HIV diagnosis is comparatively short, the cost of treatment is crippling. We could cut that to a fraction, and treat in areas where medical help is not available, and treat those who cannot take ARVs, for example because they are mal-nourished.

We dream of treatments in the centre of Durban - big, at different times of the day. We know how we could do them, and how to let people know that this is available. And also, treatment at a rural centre, where almost everyone is infected.  Again, we know how. Just let us get at it. It would take a few thousands of pounds to affect the lives of a couple of hundred people - and then we could get the employers, the politicians, the health insurers, to pay attention.  

When we get back, there is a message from Miyere, the Maasai warrior, who is making his vision of a peace walk through Africa come alive. He wants HIVEX throughout Africa.