Center Image: Standing in line to get HIV tested at Vredenburg
It was a Saturday in Cape Town like any other. Another of our Saturday group trips that on this particular day required us to get ready at eight in morning drive to a mobile HIV/TB clinic in Vredenburg that was four hours away. To be honest, I would not describe myself as being ecstatic at that point. The previous night I had stayed late at Bush Radio to finish up my show and then as soon as I came home, I was hounded by my friends to go out. Not the best decision. So anyway, we were all off– bleary-eyed yes, but on our way – in our trusted white van while Phoebe Gribble, the main clinic coordinator and our guide for the day talked to us about their work and the ailments they deal with. As she explained, I somehow was transported back to 8th grade in an Indian school classroom where my biology teacher dictated in her nasal, droning voice about the symptoms of AIDS, pausing and staring at us sternly every time our class giggled at the word “intercourse”. I thought to myself then, well I kind of already know this. I anyway forced myself back to reality and paid more attention to what Phoebe was saying. Soon I realized that no, I didn’t know all of this and began to feel sheepish for letting my ego get the better of me and thinking that I did. At that time, I felt that we let our educated backgrounds go to our heads and immediately block ourselves from learning more about a familiar topic because we feel we already know about it.
It was a spectacularly lovely drive that day and the clear skies were breathtaking. I decided not to take the opportunity to catch a few winks to view the surrounding scenery. I started to daydream and think about what to expect at the clinic? I had never been to one before. What would we be doing exactly? Would we get the chance to interact with patients? My encounters with people who are HIV positive had only began in South Africa during interviews for the show that I co-produce at Bush Radio, Sakhisizwe, so meeting people with HIV was a novelty to me.
When we arrived, we were briefed a bit about the clinic and given demonstrations about protection during sex. It was like I was back in the classroom again. As soon as one of the health professionals pulled out the female and male condoms and we were shown how to use them, all of us turned red and had huge grins around our faces. My friend next to me began to cough violently, obviously trying to stifle her laughter. Suddenly everyone in the entire Emory group was wide awake. We were then herded to a tent and got a chance to ask questions. Questions like the difference between HIV and AIDS. I learnt that everyone gets the two confused and most people who are diagnosed as HIV positive think they have AIDS as well and think they are going to die soon. That is not true. While AIDS may be caused by the virus, it is not an inevitable result. Some of the treatments and testing methods that they mentioned were some I had never heard of before. The ladies talked with such authority about the complexity of the ailment that the enormity of the entire situation hit me like a brick wall. We have become so immune to advertisements and announcements about HIV that rather than thinking about it or doing something about it we take it in through one ear and immediately let it out through the other. But this here in South Africa felt so real. I was definitely impressed by how well the clinic was organized and in general by the awareness being raised and the action taken. This was a national priority among the people and the whole country seemed to be mobilizing and rallying around this point, in my opinion.
While I was mulling all this over, Phoebe made an announcement.
“So who want to get tested for HIV?,” she said.
I assure you I was not expecting that at all. In fact, I was taken aback a little. I thought to myself, I don’t need to because I do not engage in any of the activities that can lead to an infection. It’s not necessary. Then immediately I thought, Oh Umika, you hypocrite! We constantly talk about raising awareness, doing good and helping people, but how do can we expect people listen to us if we consider ourselves above them and less likely to get HIV. Getting tested is our duty and important, just as it is important to do routine health check-ups and get vaccinations. One can never be completely confident that they will not get sick because of their lifestyle. It can happen to anyone.
So a couple of us gathered inside a small tent, waiting to be called. I guess I was nervous and the fact that it suddenly became cold and cloudy did not help at all. And then I went next. The nurse who was doing my test welcomed me and began to fire away a few questions about my life and habits. Because the RV in which the test was being done was parked at a slant, it was a little difficult to answer her as I tried to avoid slipping from my seat. She finally asked me if I had ever been tested before. I said no. In the US every time I have tried to donate blood I always get rejected because I travel to India often and therefore my blood is “at risk” of being infected with malaria. Then without another word, she grabbed my hand and pricked it with a needle. She then squeezed the blood onto a strip which she then immediately poured into a vertically long stick the size of a forefinger and then we wait. As we waited she talked to me more about HIV and the forms of infections. Of course, this was all to keep my eyes and attention averted from the little stick. But nothing can be wrong with me, I thought. Right?
I saw a little trail of blood flowing through the stick and pass by a small viewing window. It then moved on to the next window and suddenly a tiny line formed. I thought, oh no. A line? What does that mean? The nurse glanced at the stick and quickly jotted down something and said I was fine and I was HIV negative. She said if I was HIV positive then the blood flow would have stopped in the first window and the line would have formed there. They usually don’t tell patients what the lines mean until after the result just in case the blood flow does stop in the first window and they need to verify the information. Wow, I thought to myself. Those few minutes in the room made it feel like everything else around me had frozen except for the slowly flowing drop of blood. And once it was over, I felt proud. Proud that I had done it and in my own small way tried to get rid of the stigma of being tested. I stepped out of the room feeling like a new person. I looked at the tiny dot on the tip of finger thinking even though I felt confident about my result it was just the action of doing it that made me think about it and the feel the reality of HIV. That one prick changed my entire perspective of the trip.
It was a spectacularly lovely drive that day and the clear skies were breathtaking. I decided not to take the opportunity to catch a few winks to view the surrounding scenery. I started to daydream and think about what to expect at the clinic? I had never been to one before. What would we be doing exactly? Would we get the chance to interact with patients? My encounters with people who are HIV positive had only began in South Africa during interviews for the show that I co-produce at Bush Radio, Sakhisizwe, so meeting people with HIV was a novelty to me.
When we arrived, we were briefed a bit about the clinic and given demonstrations about protection during sex. It was like I was back in the classroom again. As soon as one of the health professionals pulled out the female and male condoms and we were shown how to use them, all of us turned red and had huge grins around our faces. My friend next to me began to cough violently, obviously trying to stifle her laughter. Suddenly everyone in the entire Emory group was wide awake. We were then herded to a tent and got a chance to ask questions. Questions like the difference between HIV and AIDS. I learnt that everyone gets the two confused and most people who are diagnosed as HIV positive think they have AIDS as well and think they are going to die soon. That is not true. While AIDS may be caused by the virus, it is not an inevitable result. Some of the treatments and testing methods that they mentioned were some I had never heard of before. The ladies talked with such authority about the complexity of the ailment that the enormity of the entire situation hit me like a brick wall. We have become so immune to advertisements and announcements about HIV that rather than thinking about it or doing something about it we take it in through one ear and immediately let it out through the other. But this here in South Africa felt so real. I was definitely impressed by how well the clinic was organized and in general by the awareness being raised and the action taken. This was a national priority among the people and the whole country seemed to be mobilizing and rallying around this point, in my opinion.
While I was mulling all this over, Phoebe made an announcement.
“So who want to get tested for HIV?,” she said.
I assure you I was not expecting that at all. In fact, I was taken aback a little. I thought to myself, I don’t need to because I do not engage in any of the activities that can lead to an infection. It’s not necessary. Then immediately I thought, Oh Umika, you hypocrite! We constantly talk about raising awareness, doing good and helping people, but how do can we expect people listen to us if we consider ourselves above them and less likely to get HIV. Getting tested is our duty and important, just as it is important to do routine health check-ups and get vaccinations. One can never be completely confident that they will not get sick because of their lifestyle. It can happen to anyone.
So a couple of us gathered inside a small tent, waiting to be called. I guess I was nervous and the fact that it suddenly became cold and cloudy did not help at all. And then I went next. The nurse who was doing my test welcomed me and began to fire away a few questions about my life and habits. Because the RV in which the test was being done was parked at a slant, it was a little difficult to answer her as I tried to avoid slipping from my seat. She finally asked me if I had ever been tested before. I said no. In the US every time I have tried to donate blood I always get rejected because I travel to India often and therefore my blood is “at risk” of being infected with malaria. Then without another word, she grabbed my hand and pricked it with a needle. She then squeezed the blood onto a strip which she then immediately poured into a vertically long stick the size of a forefinger and then we wait. As we waited she talked to me more about HIV and the forms of infections. Of course, this was all to keep my eyes and attention averted from the little stick. But nothing can be wrong with me, I thought. Right?
I saw a little trail of blood flowing through the stick and pass by a small viewing window. It then moved on to the next window and suddenly a tiny line formed. I thought, oh no. A line? What does that mean? The nurse glanced at the stick and quickly jotted down something and said I was fine and I was HIV negative. She said if I was HIV positive then the blood flow would have stopped in the first window and the line would have formed there. They usually don’t tell patients what the lines mean until after the result just in case the blood flow does stop in the first window and they need to verify the information. Wow, I thought to myself. Those few minutes in the room made it feel like everything else around me had frozen except for the slowly flowing drop of blood. And once it was over, I felt proud. Proud that I had done it and in my own small way tried to get rid of the stigma of being tested. I stepped out of the room feeling like a new person. I looked at the tiny dot on the tip of finger thinking even though I felt confident about my result it was just the action of doing it that made me think about it and the feel the reality of HIV. That one prick changed my entire perspective of the trip.
