Times like these

He had eyes like two dark caves each with a small boy standing alone in its empty depth; cheekbones and temples like worn, weathered rocks encased by skin tight and shiny; and lips a pail purple or a shallow grey or just wearily colourless.

A PLWHA*, on ARVs*, formerly a MARP*, a member of the 7.9%.

His name is Simon from the Red Ribbon support group in Chonyi, near Kilifi and is HIV+.

Here in a small room in Kilifi District Hospital Simon gives us his support group’s progress update following our first training last June. In the heavy heat, ruthlessly oblivious to the loud overhead fans, one member from 23 HIV support groups in the region sit and listen.

“We’ve started a savings group where we all save Ksh25 (¢25) a week” he said over the hum of the straining aircon.

“Some of us are growing tomatoes and pulses from the kitchen garden training but for many, the bags are too expensive” they listened while outside young Kenyan doctors and nurses went about their business.

“We held one business management session and one on record keeping but there are only 4 of us who are literate so it is difficult” my colleague scribbles his comments on her note pad for the post training report.

“However, our biggest problem is that no one wants to buy from us.” Simon gives a little resigned smile and shrug like as if he recited the same tired joke told already several times that morning, one that wasn’t funny the first time.

This was the first day of our follow-up training to HIV support groups across Kilifi and Kaloleni and it is proving to be quite positive. Each member gives an update and challenges faced over the past two months. They achieved a lot. More than the Doubting Thomas Mzungu (‘white person’ in Swahili) Volunteer from Ireland would of thought.

Stupid Doubting Thomas Mzungu from Ireland.

Training people on Business Management and Marketing Skills is akin to Human Alchemy to a cynical SDTMfI like me. With the donor funds given to you, you gather people with little or no business experience, take them through a three-day training and hope they can create for themselves a little money making enterprise. I write the training course, and I of course have myself a little gold mine business empire?

Then, confident enough in ones alchemy, add to process the big disease with the little name - HIV. And thus, Stigma.

You had sex without a condom. Once. Several times. For money. With prostitutes. While drunk. While taking drugs. While sober. While married. While single. With some stranger. With your neighbours daughter. While working away from home. With multiple partners. When you were a respected member of society. When I bought food from you. When you were still my friend. When you used to sit beside me in church. When you were still my wife/husband.

You disgust me! Now go live in shame forever and die the lonely, horrible death you deserve.

The above is wretched, despicable, ignorant self-righteousness.

To hell with them.

The District AIDS Support and Care Officer (DASCO), a middle-aged guy called Meschack with silver eyes and a well-tendered goatee comes to give an official opening speech (some 4 hrs after training started, Shhh I arrived late too). He is an excellent, entertaining, captivating speaker. During his speech he tells everyone attending today's training that he’s proud of what they’ve achieved so far.

And then, as he begins to finish he falls to the ground. He gets up again. He falls theatrically and gets up again.

“Everytime they push you down, get up” he says repeating his charade. “Eventually they’ll stop and you’ll prove to them that no matter who they think you are, you can always be proud of who you know you are…and succeed through positive living.”

A few people giggle but the message is understood. Kenyans love their Drama but it works: his performance lets everyone know they’ve got folk in their corner (and good folk too, Kilifi District Hospital is one of Kenya’s best).

With his words in our minds, we continue our training. Tomorrow, I’ll be on time and join Simon and the others in a session on ‘Record Keeping follow up’. I got to be honest with you, I didn’t understand it the first time either!

It’s time like these, time and time again.

*PLWHA=Person Living With HIV/AIDS

ARV=Antiretroviral

MARP= Most At Risk Person (e.g. Polygamous Men, Matatu Workers, Sex Workers, Drug Addicts)

7.9% of the Coast population our HIV or AIDS positive.

Here...

Here there are no cars or roads, just donkeys and paths.

No monday mornings, just sunday afternoons.

Nothing yet everything.

Here is Lamu, a remote island archipelago 2 degrees south of the equator on the Coast of Kenya.

From Diani to Mombasa and Kilifi to Malindi, Kenya is truely spoilt by an opulent spread of lush silver sand beaches, possesing a stunning brochure-esque beauty; spotless yawning beaches, brilliant tourquise oceans and languid arching palm-trees. Tailor made for the lens that sells an idylic beach paradise ready to compete with any other ‘eden’ pitch.

However here, here is different.

There’s something wonderfully unique and infectiously special that no lens could capture about Lamu and it’s utopian blend of exotic ingredients.

Of a blissful, tempestous marriage of arabian and african culture, that dawned a rich, firey history of trade, adventure and romance.

Of wild, lusty dunes that guard virgin, soft sands that spread down to the sea and stretch long toward the dazzling horizon and glorious isolation.

Of skinny, shaded streets meandering through tall, stoic buildings that reach toward the hidden sun. Of slicing fruits of the sea and of deep thinking donkeys loitering on street corners seemingly ready to burst into a long conversations.

Of tall, ghost like dhows whose simple sail slides into swells of a sparkling ocean of diamonds and pearls. And of vibrant red sunsets that melts into soft silky grey nights.

Far from anywhere and unlike anywhere, Lamu is what it means to be Wide Awake Dreaming.