I could say that I’ve been so silent because I’ve been busy doing things like becoming a mother. But the silence probably has more to do with a year-long feeling of writer’s block. For someone who once wrote “I write because I can’t not write,” this dry spell has felt very long. I can’t say whether that spell is really over, but for today at least, I am back. This is going to get a bit long, but I want to ask you now to please stick with me to the end.
vivian. have you seen more amazing eyes?
I logged onto facebook today to find that a friend had posted this link: In Uganda, AIDS War is Falling Apart. This caught my attention immediately for two reasons. Not only is Uganda a country I know and dearly love, but I feel personally invested in the “AIDS War” in Uganda. Over the past 7 years, I’ve spent weeks at a time living with and loving and photographing the beautiful children at my friend Nathaniel’s incredible organization, Aidchild, and I’ve spent many hours interviewing and photographing brave and resilient families in Compassion International’s AIDS Initiative.
jack, one of my adorable friends from aidchild
According to the article’s author and the sources he quotes, there is little good news regarding AIDS in Uganda. While 200,000 are on treatments, there are 300,000 more who need treatment and can’t get it. The ABC (abstinence, be faithful, use a condom) prevention approach is, in their words, “flopping”. Globally, it is believed that 14 million people need treatment, while fewer than 4 million are receiving it.
I won’t rewrite the whole article here, but suffice to say that as I read I became increasingly discouraged. And then I came to the part that really scared me. In a nutshell, the author suggests that donors are giving up on the fight against AIDS. “Donors have decided … that more lives can be saved by concentrating on child-killers like stillbirth, pneumonia, diarrhea, malaria, measles and tetanus.”
He goes on to state that President Obama’s administration, the British government and the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation have all decided that they will focus their efforts on mother-child health, rather than the AIDS pandemic. Before I go on, let me say that I am all for globally focusing more attention on the health of mothers and children. Spend a few hours with mamas and babies in programs like Compassion’s Child Survival Program and you cannot deny a) the need or b) the incredible positive impact such interventions can make.
a mother and baby i met in a child survival program in uganda
But as I read, I thought, does it have to be either the AIDS crisis or mothers and children? Can’t it be both/and? Then came this quote from the author of one of the discouraging reports: “I think world leaders feel the heat is off [regarding the fight against AIDS] and they’re fatigued.”
That hit me hard. Especially that word “fatigued.” I understand fatigue. As the mother of a 6-month-old infant, I really understand fatigue.
I have been traveling to Africa for nine years and have lived here full time for two and a half. And the longer I’m here, the more often I seem to find myself feeling discouraged about the realities here. The long line of corrupt leaders, past and present, who stunt the continent’s growth and development. The wars. The abuses. The vast need that always outweighs the resources. The “if only they would listen to me, everything would be perfect” mentality of so many of us expats (and I do include myself here), wearing the titles we’ve given ourselves -- NGO/aid/development workers, missionaries, diplomats -- with arrogance and self-importance. Fearing the answers to the constant questions in the back of my mind: “Is this working? Is there really hope? Can things really change?”
abraham, whom i've watched grow up for the last 7 years
The fatigue doesn’t matter
So I understand this other kind of fatigue as well. The kind that isn't just physical but is emotional, spiritual. But then I think of Abraham and Vivian and Jack. Of Mary (not her real name) and her daughters. And the dozens of other names and faces of the incredible individuals I have spent time with over the past seven years, listening to their stories, playing games with the children in the late afternoon, admiring the roses that mothers so proudly planted. I love these people.
"mary" and her daughters
In the past I would have said these stories make the fatigue melt away. I don’t know if I can honestly say that now. I still feel the weariness. But I can say that these amazing people help me remember that the fatigue doesn’t matter. In the end, we shouldn’t have entered this war against AIDS because we thought we could win. We should be here because it is the right thing to do.
I have read and reread J.R.R. Tolkein’s Lord of the Rings trilogy numerous times through the years. There are points along the way as Frodo and Sam struggle to continue on their path to Mordor where I struggle to keep reading. The weariness, the sheer fatigue, the discouragement is so palpable that I have to take a break to catch my breath.
And I am always struck by the bittersweet realization that they are pushing on simply because it is the right thing to do. It is what they have been called to. So they keep going even though they have no idea whether they will make it. In fact, they keep going even though they’re pretty sure they won’t make it. And it is beautiful. And for me, in the end, the fact that they do make it is almost beside the point.
A shot in the arm
A personal hero of mine is Paul Farmer. He is a doctor who was responsible for practically eradicating tuberculosis in a rural area of Haiti when everyone said it could not happen. And now his organization Partners in Health is also doing a great work here in Rwanda. In the book Mountains Beyond Mountains by Tracy Kidder, Farmer talks about the long road of bringing health care to the people and communities to whom he has dedicated his life.
“I have fought the long defeat,” he says, “and brought other people on to fight the long defeat, and I’m not going to stop because we keep losing. Now I actually think sometimes we may win. I don’t dislike victory.... We want to be on the winning team, but at the risk of turning our backs on the losers, no, it’s not worth it. So you fight the long defeat.”
(Only today, as I researched it again, did I realize that he uses this term “long defeat” in homage to The Lord of the Rings, where the phrase was coined. So perhaps it was reading about Paul Farmer that first connected these ideas in my own mind and I had just forgotten.)
Reading that article today, I realized that I have grown lazy. In recent years, the West has engaged in a love affair with Africa. Money and attention have poured this direction in an unprecedented way. Much of both the money and the attention have been aimed directly at the AIDS pandemic. Fighting AIDS in Africa became trendy. There are lots of famous faces and Beautiful People whose names have been tied to the cause. And perhaps some of the urgency I had felt in earlier years -- when it was so difficult to get people to pay attention, when no one seemed to care -- had gone. I got distracted and busy with other things.
But the time was bound to come when something else would grab the attention of the public. It is the nature of trends that they come and go and are replaced with something new. Sadly it seems like that day might be coming. So what happens then?
I have no idea how this “War on AIDS” will end. One of the reports from the article mentioned at the beginning of this post stated that it’s likely that “a major [AIDS] epidemic will still be with us in 2031.” And that is discouraging. Heavy. Fatiguing.
the beautiful diana
But you know what? Statistics and predictions don’t take into account my little friend Abraham, who was given 6 weeks to live about 9 years ago and today is a healthy, happy, energetic boy who excels in school. They don’t consider the fact that Mary’s two daughters should be orphans by now but instead still have a loving mother who can care for them. They don’t even take into consideration little Diana who enjoyed several years of health and happy childhood and love and life before she succumbed to the disease.
So I needed this shot in the arm today. To remind me that we can't stop. Friends, we can't give up because it's hard, or because we're tired. Or because we think someone else will or should take care of it. Or even because we think we might lose.
