HIV

The people that know me best probably wouldn't call me hard hearted. However, they probably wouldn't peg me as sensitive to the plight of other people, either. I suppose I occupy the sentimental middle ground. I held that middle ground during my first 5 weeks here. I went into the bush to see the villagers hit hardest by HIV. I spoke with them, heard the stories of illness, death, of poverty and orphans. I also heard to stories of triumph over impossibilities and stories of love. I was moved by what I heard. However, I maintained emotional distance. My interest was more academic or professional than sentimental.  I was more caught up in gathering stories than listening to them. More interested in capturing the interesting human interest or work relevant content. "Oh I am very sorry to hear you lost your husband and three siblings to HIV... I think it is wonderful that you donate your time as a caregiver to help other HIV victims in your community... How has the WBR bicycle helped perform your job as a caregiver better?" I maintained an emotional barrier for most of my first month here, quickly rationalizing or suppressing my the emotion I felt. This was not because of my job, of course. I just never broke through.

This past Tuesday, Jack and I watched James (pseudonym) give a hugely impressive 8 hr workshop to a group of rural bicycle mechanics selected to be trained as WBR field mechanics. Throughout the workshop he spoke with overwhelming authority on issues ranging from economics to business management to bicycle repair to politics. He had these guys eating out of his palm, like a politician. I knew James was an exceedingly bright guy and this did nothing to diminish his standing in my eyes. James has been working with Jack and I to remedy spare parts distribution problems. My first day working for WBR in "the field" I perceived spare parts was a problem and wrote up a proposal for a pilot spare parts distribution center to gauge demand and verify if WBRs high quality parts truly have a market.  James has been working on this stuff for 2 years, however he was kind enough to allow me the pretense that I wasn't making suggestions and observations he had considered long ago, and really has done a great job making Jack and I feel like a part of the team. 

Jack, James and I were talking over a Coke outside the training center during a 15 minute break. Jack asked James, some variation of the question "So how many siblings do you have James?" James, in his composed, contemplative way looked at the sky, squinted, cocked his head to the right and said, "Well, there is just me". He smiled a melancholy smile. "I suppose thats not right... I have two cousins of my age. They are very close to me and stay with me now, I take care of them. They grew up in the house of my parents, so I consider them my brother and sister." He drew a heavy breath and looked at the ground. "I don't talk about this very much, however I used to have 2 brothers and 1 sister. They all have passed." My body literally reeled, expression changing from the inconsequential half smile of light conversation to a look of disbelief. "Yes... Yes... I lost two of them on one day. My older brother and my younger brother. All to AIDs. It was... It was probably the most difficult day of my life". He related the whole story in the melancholy matter of fact of someone steeled by time int he face of tragedy. "Sometimes I think about how things could have been... If ARVs (anti retro virals)  had been around... It was 1999, and ARVs came in 2004 or 5. I know they would be fine, just fine if they had been around. They would be alive today..." James raised his eyebrows back into the late afternoon sky, at the sun low in the sky. "My older brother... he was not a... sexual man, he was not interested in women... even his wife. It was by accident that they became married! Haha... he was interested in other things... I just do not understand how he became ill." James's eyes shimmered.  "But that is how it happened... I have wonderful parents, a wonderful wife... I have children. I am very lucky... Yes, very lucky."

Tears had welled in my eyes. The truth of HIV presented itself to me. Whereas I saw the virus as  an ailment that preyed on the careless, the poor, the sexually promiscuous, the ignorant... I realized that here in Africa it wasn't that way at all. HIV is a plague. It took someone in whose reflection I saw myself to make me understand. I saw that the virus had laid waste to families. Why shouldn't that have happened to my family? It would have. And that thought was just far too much to bear. James's siblings were all into their 30s when they contracted HIV, with families and jobs. To reach adulthood with the people with whom you are the closest in the world and then, a couple of agonizing months later... poof. Words cannot describe it.  

So I got myself back together and watched James finish his workshop. I took a run later that day and got to thinking about the conversation again. Again I imagined I had to bear James tragedy. Toward the end of my run, 400 yards away from the entrance to our house I began bawling. My chest heaved as I tried not to think about the nightmare I conjured. A pedestrian walked by and I turned the other way. I had to sit down to compose myself on the ledge next to the sidewalk, covering my face. So why did James's story get to me in a way none of the others had? I realized that even though I had heard countless stories just like James's, I was unable to see my reflection in them.  But when I finally saw my reflection, I finally saw the hideous legacy of the plague that is HIV/AIDs in Africa. It is horrifying.