Clive & Aleana at The BAT Centre, Friday 30th July - Anna

Clive‘s talk at the BAT Centre, in Durban. It is a beautiful day (again!) and a lovely drive along the coast to Durban. Durban has a reputation as a dangerous city. It used to be a city of great elegance, but in the 60s, 70s and 80s the elegant buildings were replaced by skyscrapers - it was a busy and successful commercial centre, on a stunning coast, with a perfect climate. There is social breakdown which has made Durban unsafe, so that we are advised not to go into the city at night.

 


Michaela and Bheki at the BAT Centre



The BAT Centre is full of people hanging out. Bheki is there, with some fellow actors. He is missing his former collaborator, Ellis Peters, who has emigrated to Perth Australia. The choice of location hurts Bheki, and he thinks it is hurting Ellis too. He sees Australia‘s racist past, the annihilation of aborigines, the current separation of aborigines, the loss of soul. It is not his place. I think that he feels that a person choosing to live here is at risk of colluding, of damaging their own soul.

There is a great buzz around Clive‘s talk. This surprises me. Now, I know that Clive is a lovely and very special man. Wise, intelligent, compassionate and insightful. But how can these kids know? He is 53, white, apparently well fed and well-dressed. The struggles he has had to keep himself afloat are not apparent. He is not an artist. Nevertheless, buzz there is. It takes a while to get us all into the lecture room, but that is because of us, Clive’s so called-supporters, who are dawdling a bit in the sun, chatting, not because of the kids. They are all there, waiting. The room is packed with young people. I still don’t really get it. I doubt these kids have been told that Clive is worth listening to, but in my experience, young people are suspicious of what adults tell them, and I would expect the topic to be one that kids would approach with a sense of duty, heaviness, rather than willingly giving up a chunk of their weekend for.



Clive and Aleana outside the BAT Centre

 Clive asks us if we have a dream. We all have a dream. He encourages us to dream it, to make it happen, HIV or no HIV, to tale the step, no matter how small it is, that we can take now, with whatever resources we have at this moment, no matter how meager they seem. To ask for guidance for our next step. He talks of days when he had no money, no petrol, no credit on his phone, and of how those days have been some of he best, when he took steps that really made a difference. Clive is a great speaker, and is convincing, so that this talk is life-affirming, rather than ear-inducing, which I guess must be the case with many talks on HIV.

Then Alaena talks for a few minutes, and she is something else. She is a beacon. Her good looks, her dramatic clothes, her pride and self-esteem, shine out, and all, black, white, old, young, are attracted. She is different from all of them, alike, and different, enough to be intriguing. They laugh when she mimics her Nigerian father. She doesn‘t need to tell them that a good life is possible with HIV. They can see it, feel it.

We play tourists for a while. Shopping at the beachfront market. There are local crafts - beadwork, baskets, fabrics. I am not comfortable in this role. I don’t like being a tourist, have too many possessions. It feels superficial. I tend to acquire my possessions seriously. When I really need them, or very occasionally, out of lust or admiration- passion. I don’t think of souvenirs. I buy two beautiful grass baskets. Why? To join in - not to seem stand-offish, embarrassed by my own reserve. I am shocked by how happy the trader seems with the 100 Rand price. Later, Michaela explains that if I do not buy myself pretty things, adornments, others will not either. I should honour myself, by buying myself gifts. It touches my deepest pain, the part of me that wants love, to be nurtured and cared for, and puts up with less.

A child plays at a market stall