I work in an HIV and AIDS counselling and testing centre. While we test and counsel people at the centre, our main area of focus is education and testing in rural communities and local impoverished areas. On my first day of work, I went to a shabeen (a gathering spot where alcohol is brewed and sold) for a testing and counselling session. Field officers from work had previously scouted the location, talked to the owner (commonly known as Shabeen Queens) and held a session about the importance of knowing your status. A week later, a counsellor, outreach worker and myself showed up for the testing session. It is important to show up early in the morning before people get drunk. It's not recommended to test people while they are under the influence. Unfortunately, we arrived a bit late (around 10 am) and most patrons were wasted already.
I've been tested regularly since I was 20-years-old. Every six months to be exact. Not because I engage in risky behaviour, but because I think it's important to know your status and to get in the habit of being tested regularly. I still get freaked out every single time I get tested. I get nervous, panicked, my skin feels clammy and I'm pretty sure all blood is drained from my face. Why? My deep fear of needles probably has something to do with it, but I grew up with the knowledge that sex today is a lot riskier than it was 30 years ago. And HIV is the biggest reason.
Maybe I'm paranoid. I know even my doctor thinks I'm crazy to get tested so often since I'm from Canada and our country's HIV incidence rate is approximately 0.02 percent. Which is why I have a difficult time comprehending how people seem so unfazed about testing here even thought the incidence rate is a staggering 17.6 percent.
I don't know if it was their drunken state, a lack of fear or ignorance, but the people at the shabeen acted like getting tested was a simply a normal part of their day. They chatted with the counsellor, got tested, received their results and no matter the result, continued drinking and talking with the rest of the patrons. One man who tested positive sat next to me and told me he already knew he was positive and that he didn't care. Slurring his words, he told me he was taking anti-retrovirals and that he was fine. He then asked me to have sex with him.
I guess it's good that he has taken his diagnosis well, has begun treatment and may well live a long and prosperous life. However, he is more likely sleeping with many women, passing the virus to them as well as to his wife, depleting his body with alcohol and reducing the effect of the antiretrovirals in the process and simply not caring much about his life or the consequences of his actions.
And that is the case for many in Botswana. HIV and AIDS is everywhere: in ad campaigns, in schools, in the workplace, on TV, at home, in the funerals held every weekend, and yet, people don't seem to take it very seriously. This isn't just a one-off observation, it's something I see on a daily basis through my work. I don't know how to get people to care. It's not my job either but it's something I'm having a hard time siting down and accepting.
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