It is my birthday. Alaena Clive and I walk down to the beach at sunrise. There is a school of dolphins close to the shore. They have followed the shoals of sardines which have been coming in over the last few days. I can’t see very much - the occasional fin shooting out of the water. It is clear that there are many dolphins, and I do feel blessed. This is the first time that I have seen dolphins outside a zoo, and it feels special. It is so very beautiful here. There are always people fishing on the beach. I have never seen them catch anything. Without exception, the fishermen are of Indian origin. The ethnic mix in South Africa interests me greatly. Here is Durban, the local black population is Zulu. In Capetown it is Xhosa. President Zuma is Zulu, and that matters. The former president, Thabo Mbeki, is Xhosa. Some say that it was convenient to former politicians that the Zulus are most affected by HIV, that this province, KZN, has a shrinking population. The white population is made up of people of many ethnic backgrounds - mainly Dutch (Afrikaans) and British. People of Indian origin make up the third largest group. The Zulus are not indigenous to this area - they came here around 200 years ago, displacing the local San people. The Dutch arrived in and the Brits around , later inviting Indians from the Raj to form the administration in the new colony. Our Indian taxi driver was the sixth generation of his family to have been born in KZN. I see very little mixing between ethnic groups - indeed, I am not sure that I have seen any mixed group socialising, except our own. The attachment of all groups to South Africa, this beautiful land, is very strong indeed. And yet people do leave. It is very pleasant indeed in prosperous areas, with a comfortable lifestyle - and that lifestyle is conducted behind security fences - at least, once the sun sets. There is a lot of sudden, uncontrolled violence, mostly affecting the black population, and it can fatally interrupt hitherto pleasant white lives. And in the townships, it sounds very scary and dangerous. Why does South Africa let this happen? I think is must be that the problems seem so big, so intractable, that for their emotional survival, people cut off. The behaviour that is conducive to HIV infection - drinking, drug use, sex-addiction, a victim-mentality (what the Zulus characterise as a “baboon” mentality) is both a cause and result of the social problems. I would love to help break that cycle.
Alaena stays on the beach to play her flute, a beautiful South American wooden instrument with a wonderful tone. It has a limited range but fits well with this land - somehow it seems to claim it, to join it with other places. It is almost as if playing the flute, listening to its music, is a way of bringing in bringing in the soul and spirit of the country.
I am rather awkward about my birthday - tend to hide away and get miserable - and I think this is the first time that I have spent the whole day with lovely people who won’t let me hide. It is more birthday than I have ever had. I have presents. Beautifully wrapped and well-chosen. A big soft silver bracelet engraved with elephants - Indian as much as African, I think - but Indian for Africa; a dark wood carving of four heads - two men, two women, their heads wrapped. Dignified, close relationships. I think dignity is an underrated quality. Rough wood on one side and a smooth tactile grained surface on the other, a recipe book/calendar of South African foods and photographs. I shall try them when I get back to England. Ten minutes walk from my house in London is a South African restaurant which serves Ostrich, Antelope, Bobotje. I haven’t yet found a restaurant here with that kind of fare - but many which serve a mean pasta Alfredo, or Thai Green Curry. And I can buy take away curry which reminds me of the curries of my childhood - “mutton with bone“, it states, accurately, on the bar code.
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| Me being spoiled at breakfast on my birthday |
Naledi arrives at our apartment before treatment to give me a card, which I shall treasure. The purchase of a birthday card makes quite a dent in a maid’s income, and I am touched. She has also come to tell us how she is. Tumelo has hit her, and she has a black eye. He has told her that she has been spreading rumours about him, that he never was HIV+. She is very angry. “He was a dead man” she says, and tells us how, when she met him, he was too was too ill to eat, and how she nursed him, so that gradually, he was able to work two days a week. And he was very sick. Now, he is talking about going back to his wife. He tells Naledi that he had wanted to marry her so that she would put her house in his name. I think things are more complex than they might seem - this is more than ordinary bad behaviour. Naledi and Tumelo were nice together - behaved well - companiable, and I think there was trust. She is the stronger character, with better English. I think that it shows the power of thois treatment. Tumelo has got his life back. 9 days of treatment have given him his full health back. That is powerful, and it takes some getting used to, when one has been expecting death. Given the shame that surrounds HIV, there must be a temptation, perhaps, to deny that it ever existed. Many people have been treated and then disappeared. I have thought before that this may be because South Africa is a country in overwhelm - there are so many difficulties that when one is overcome, there are still a whole pile more. Take away imminent fear of death and there is still fear of violence, robbery, the struggle to earn. We chose Clive and Alaena very carefully, because they were willing to talk about there experiences, and so was Naledi. And I have compassion for those who just want to hide. The way in which we have held this treatment - the sharing, vulnerability, emotional release, has contributed to its power, and has meant that we have healed emotionally, as well as physically. And I would be careful, in future, about treating a couple together. I think it is best to be utterly selfish when one is healing deeply - better not to dissipate energy by looking after a loved one.
Miyere is to join us to see the treatment. Clive picks him up and brings back a large birthday cake. Two young men have come along. One, from Tanzania, speaks no English. He looks ill, and listless, and I suspect that he is HIV positive. The other, Delani, is handsome and lively, interested. His girlfriend recently gave birth to a baby - premature, at eight months. The baby, apparently healthy, died in hospital. There is no explanation, and I don’t want to probe, but I have learnt that noone wants to go into the state hospitals, indeed, depending on where they are, they are sometimes quite terrified to do so, They seem to be badly under resourced, sometimes very dirty, and I am often told that the nurses don’t care. Of other hospitals, I am told that they can do everything, but it takes a very long time for them to get around to it. And certainly, there is expertise here. Some great HIV specialists, for example. And some very dedicated people. When we first arrived, a maid was ill. Doubled up in pain. Eventually, he was persuaded to go into hospital. She was told, apparently, that she has cancer, and that she must come back in November. No treatment. No pain killer. We haven’t seen her since. Her employer daren’t take her to a private hospital because although she would be happy to pay a consultation fee, in such circumstances the state hospital would wash its hands of responsibility and she would have the whole costly responsibility.
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| Miyere, Delani and friend arrive to witness the HIVEX treatment |
Cameron has got used to our daily invasions of his apartment. He is not at all phased by the arrival of a Maasai tribesman complete with gourd and lacking only his spear. And in my view, Miyere could grace any drawing room. Tall, upright, dignified (that word again) utterly comfortable in his skin, in his blankets and self-made rubber tyre shoes, cultured. When I ask him how far he has walked, he tells me that he is still walking, and I gather that his walk so far includes the trip from Kenya to Cape Town.
Delani is from the North of Kwazulu Natal. He is 24, a mechanic, and has not yet had a proper job. A couple of placements. He tells us that a charity tested children in a school in his town. There was a 90% infection rate. Delani may have got this wrong. It is a terrible figure. There is very little systematic testing - people often put off or avoid testing altogether - even if it means illness or death - and we sometimes hear of very high figures, especially here in KZN. HIV is laying waste to parts of Africa. It needs something dramatic. For those who are not yet infected, a vaccine, and for those who are, possibly, HIVEX.
With three visitors, much to explain, and everyone’s deadlines, it is hard to take the time that we all want to publicly voice our gratitude for the experience of having been here - for the effects of the treatment, for the emotional healing that has taken place. We do, somewhat, and I think all of us “regulars” would have liked more of a ritual - this has been a huge experience and we want to mark it.
I want to cut my cake and share it, especially with the two young men, who I fancy may have little opportunity for chocolate and cream concoctions, but time makes it impossible, and we have to postpone cake cutting until later in the day.
In the evening, we have a birthday dinner. Thai food, at home. I have insisted on a take-away, rather than a restaurant, because we have invited Naledi, and I want her to be at ease. I have noticed the paucity of black people in restaurants, and the absence of mixed groups. Some of the others think I am being over sensitive. We all have a lovely time. Later, Naledi tells us that this was the first time that she has eaten at a table, the first time she has used a fork. She usually uses a spoon. And there was no sign of awkwardness. Classy lady. The cake is worth waiting for. This is a birthday like no other.
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