Thembi's AIDS Diary Tour: South Africa

This World AIDS Day I was invited to the 46664 concert in Johannesburg. 46664 was Nelson Mandela's prison number--466 was the number and 64 was the year that he went to jail. The Nelson Mandela Foundation uses that number to remind us of his struggle when we think about HIV/AIDS.

46664 is a campaign that raises awareness about HIV/AIDS and works to fight the spread of the disease. Every year on Nelson Mandela's birthday(July 18), there is a huge concert. The biggest in Africa! This year they decided to do it on December 1st, World AIDS Day. Very famous artists from all over the world go every year, from Bono to Oprah.  This year the artists were Peter Gabriel, Annie Lenox, Ludacris and many South African artists like Jozi, Malaika and Jamali. Like forty artists that played in one night.

The motto was, "It is in our hands," meaning that we are not victims of HIV/AIDS and if we want to change things, it is in our power to change them.

Before the concert, the 46664 did a campaign that I participated in. Like a road show with a theater group that visits townships across South Africa. We would do a play about disclosing and knowing your status and then
the community would ask questions and talk about the issues that affect them.

The concert was a lot of fun, we were in the VIP section and I felt important and beautiful. I bought a new wig for the occasion, wore heels and a new dress. Some artists even asked me what time I was on, thinking I was also a singer too.

There were very exciting moments during the show. But I did feel something strange. In between acts, they played clips and famous leaders would come out and speak about AIDS. I felt like those images on those big screens with infected people had nothing to do with me. It reminded me of high school. When they would show pictures of thin, poor orphans that look like they are dying, and try to scare you out of having sex. But it never works because young, South African, at-risk kids do not see themselves in those images. They cannot imagine that it can happen to them.

It also made me think of all the people that I know who are infected that look healthy, and I wonder how this hip and happening concert, with so much money can still use words and images that teenagers cannot relate to.

Although at moments it was very disorganized, it was still a great experience. I learned once more that what is killing South Africans is not HIV/AIDS but stigma. If people would change their attitudes about the disease, then that would be a cure. Even if you know your status, what is the use of knowing it, if people are not going to get help, go to the clinic or disclose because of fear.

Thanks to my work with Unicef, I was given the opportunity to visit communities in India to talk about my story.

And, in India my story was welcomed with open arms. People there were waiting for me. I have never been amazed like that in my whole life.I have never been amazed like that in my whole life.
It has really changed the way I look at things.

India, is a very complicated country. They have the highest rate of HIV in Asia, a lot of kids are living in the street, there is lack of employment and it has been hit hard by gender problems. So, I didn't think that women would be active in the way they are--especially because of the gender problems.

But when I got there, there were girls that had run away from their homes--their villages-to come to town to work on HIV/AIDS. They are HIV/AIDS activists. Some of them are positive and are teaching people to speak out about AIDS. The part that amazed me the most was that I have never heard of a project that is teaching people to speak out about AIDS.

I have never heard of it!

And it was a wonderful thing to see that these women go door to door and encourage people to speak out. Those young women really inspired me. Their passion for life, even if they are infected with HIV.

The most important thing that I learned is that I pitied myself that I lived in a poor community, but I see that even if I lived inaa shack, I still had a bed to sleep on and food to eat. In India, life for infected people is much harder. You will see an entire family--mother, father children, living on the street. When a person is down like that, it is very difficult to bring them up.

When I think that my story was acknowledged and helped people in those situations...Well, it is something that  I can't even explain. Some people even made different choices after hearing my story. Some of the women have had abortions more than two times because of their status, but once I went there they actually gave it a chance to have a baby that would be negative.

Another important thing I learned from the people in these communities, especially the women, is to never let a situation put you down. It made me realize that you don't need money to do certain things. If you have your hands, you have your mouth, you have your brain, then you can just speak.

One last thing to say is that there is a film that was made of this experience by Unicef by a great lady named Sarah who I went to everything with. Maybe I will post it later on, so that you can experience for yourself what I am talking about.

A lot has happened since you last heard from me. I was chosen to go as a Unicef HIV/AIDS junior ambassador to the J8 Summit in Germany this year.

The G8 Summit  (not J8) is kind a gathering of some of the world's most important leaders from eight of the most powerful countries. Every year, people from all over get together and express to these powerful leaders the problems going on in their countries.

The J8 is similar, but with young people. There were people from all over the world -- Chinese, Russians, South Africans, Ethiopians, Tanzanians, you name it! All of us stayed together on a big boat parked in the harbor. The accommodations I did not like. To live on top of water?! It was actually a big old ship with huge windows that used to sail around the world many many years ago.

I enjoyed being in a new country, but everything at the J8 was very.... Well, some of you might understand, but you see when you come from the township or the ghetto you are not used to these conferences where you are sitting down all day in fancy rooms with people standing in front of projectors. People talking about numbers like 5.6 million this and 20 percent that and using these big words.

So,  at moments I felt a bit lost. Especially because I am so used to just standing up and expressing myself from my experience. So it was very new to hear people talking about Africa and AIDS in this way. I did learn a lot about it and other stuff like climate change and poverty and unemployment. But all from charts and things like that. It can get very boring.

 It also made me think that these presentations could never work or have impact in the townships. I mean I think that they can have an  impact in maybe rich kids who know how to use computers, and that know those big words and can talk in percentages. But, I don't think its useful to come to a poor area and talk about "rates" of climate change. Some people in townships don't even have TV, don't even know what is climate change.

But I feel that from the experience, I have learned a lot. You know, I adapt very quickly and so I  actually learned to  capture what they were saying and learned many many things. It was really a great opportunity.

Just so you know, on this page you will find  the second half of the tour. Don't forget to read about how it all began.

So you don't have to scroll down too much or look too far, here is a link to postings and pictures of the beginning of the South Africa Tour: http://www.thembisaidsdiarytour.vox.com/library/posts/2007/03

You might also know that Melikhaya, my boyfriend, has become the official photographer of the Thembi's AIDS Diary project. He photographed me for an entire year while I was recording the diary. When I went to the US, he photographed all of the events, interviews and even got experience shooting a video for MTV about the US tour.

This time he taped, on video, the entire South Africa Tour. Get a glimpse of me in action in Johannesburg, Soweto, Durban, Mthatha (formerly Umtata), East London, Grahamstown, Port Elizabeth, Cape Town, Khayelitsha township, Masipumulele township and addressing Parliament on March 29th.

Check out Melikhaya's 5 min VIDEO!

You can also listen to my story by visiting Thembi's AIDS Diary
There are also other really cool stories on the Radio Diaries site.

 Don't forget to post comments and thoughts.

The idea of going to Parliament was something we had worked on but to  tell you the truth I didn’t like the idea. Going to parliament....and with this issue! Scary.  Also, I don’t like to talk about politics. People are who they are and politics confuses things. It was almost like I didn't think I had the right to talk to them, those big politicians.

It is strange what happens when I am very nervous. I think a million things but as soon as I sit down and see those faces staring backat me, I realize they are only human...aside form all the politics. I stopped caring that they were ministers of this and ministers of that.
I was there just to talk about my story, not to talk about politics. Knowing that makes me free  to say what I want to say.

Many thoughts were still racing through my head.  Would people take me seriously? After all, HIV/AIDS is the daily bread in South Africa, and these people must be tired of talking about it. What made my story so interesting

when it is the same story everyone has?

At the same time, I felt that this was different. Not because my story was different but because they had me face to face. There I was telling the big people in my country that there is a bright side to all of this. That HIV/AIDS is a challenge, not a death sentence and discrimination can only cause death.

You should have seen the response. People laughed and cried and made beautiful comments. They introduced themselves as if I was one of them, a big person in government. It was an honor. The Speaker of Parliament said that, "I have a future." Hearing that from someone so high in Parliament made me happy because people look up to her and by saying that she was looking up to me. I felt special in a way  I never had before.

All of this made me think that something is changing in South Africa and that by the look of their faces at least I helped that change a little bit. There are seeing that there is a big problem and only with seeing can there be action.

The next day I opened up The Sunday Independent Newspaper and read something like:

Thembi's presentation in Parliament was "compelling" and a "step in the right direction" for a country that has been "grappling for years with institutional silence on AIDS."

I don't know about all of that, but I know that my story is the story of every South African, and I think those big people saw that in me that day.

Masipumulele Township

Masipumulele is a township outside of Cape Town. It is similar to my township, Khayelitsha.  Many people in Masipumulele are infected but the people are afraid to disclose and speak out. Sometimes when the community finds out you are positive, the discriminate against you, tease you and make you feel worthless. The same day I addressed the big people in Parliament, I went to address some of the most at risk township teenagers of South Africa.

Masipumulele High School is going through big problems with discrimination against positive people. Teachers asked me to come and speak because a 16 year-old was seen at a clinic and word spread that she had HIV. Everyone at school harassed her and the young girl even tried to commit suicide.

The reason why I accepted to speak here was because I could see myself in that girl. I could feel what she was feeling and I know that when you find out you are positive you want to die, and any bit of support can help you want to keep on living.

 I was welcomed  with songs, laughter, posters and 900 students. I have never addressed so many teenagers at the same time! What I have learned from speaking with young people is that you can only make them listen if they know that you are putting yourself in their shoes and speaking their language. You will not get them to understand by being stiff and acting because they will only yawn and stay in their ways.

Once they think you are hip and cool and you have their attention, then you tell them the truth. "You see me just like you, hip, cool and partying. Well, I have AIDS." I told them that having AIDS is not nice and that instead of teasing they should find out their status first.

 Especially in township communities, we are all at risk and they must see this. I want to make them see that while they tease and discriminate, they do not know that tomorrow they  can be discriminated against too. When I found out I was positive, I left school because I was afraid kids would discriminate against me. Nobody should have to leave school because of that. I wanted to make sure that they knew what power they had.

When they began asking questions, I maintained the full attention of all of them. I knew their questions and doubts because they had been my own. We were all township kids from the same city. I know their language and know it's power. They shouted, clapped and we talked about family, love, growing up, township life and living positively.  I know that they understood and that I changed how these  900 teenagers viewed HIV/AIDS.

After the event two girls from the township came to find me. They asked me, "Is it true that you are sick?" I said, "Yes, it's true."  They did not believe me! She said if you have AIDS, you are supposed to be thin and sick... I tried to make her understand, but as we said goodbye I could tell she thought I was lying.

Making people think that I am not HIV positive and seeing me healthy is probably the best thing I am doing for South Africa. Because I am attacking the stigma and I am making people feel differently about their country, about young, black teenagers, about township life, about HIV/AIDS.

This was a great way to end the tour!

Ubuntu Education Fund is a great organization that works with high schools in the townships of Port Elizabeth. They invited me to Port Elizabeth to speak to some of their students.

It was here that I think I can say that I am officially famous. The presentation was in Xhosa in the township of Zwaide at Ndzondelelo High School to 100 teenagers between the ages of 13 and 19. There was no electricity in most of the classrooms and we had to run a cable from one of the main rooms across the school. The presentation was originally for 40

teenagers but many had heard me on the radio and saw me on SABC Morning Live, so they wanted to see me as well.

When I arrived teenagers were rushing to me and looking from far away with joy as if I was some super star. Others were singing and dancing trying to squeeze into the classroom. The presentation was in Xhosa and everyone was listening closely. Kids outside were pressing their eyes and ears up against the windows of the classroom trying to see and hear.

Port Elizabeth has one of the highest infection rates of the country here I was in the center knowing that everything I said could change how they saw AIDS. I know that they live surrounded by HIV/AIDS, the way I do in

Khayelitsha. I tried to make it clear that this was only challenge and they had the power to change things. They were happy to have someone hip speak to them openly about AIDS.

After the presentation herds of young people crowded me, asking for

autographs, begging for postcards and asking me to sign their shirts, arms, socks. It was such a strange and great experience. Many of them are girls that could be my friends. I knew them and could see in their eyes that they needed a person to look up to. Someone to tell them that AIDS is only one little obstacle in life and that the best thing you can do is live your life fully and not care what anyone else thinks.

The head of Ubuntu Education Fund ended the presentation by saying that we are all the face of AIDS. If one person has AIDS, are all infected. He also said that medicine alone cannot cure AIDS but working together, discussing and supporting each other is the only way to really fight it.

Umhlobo Venene

We then went to the famous Xhosa radio station, Umhlobo Venene. This

time the interview was with me and Melikhaya, so it was very exciting. All kinds of people called telling us how much they admired us for loving each other and asking us for advice.

I gave my phone number  on the air and over the next two hours received more than fifteen calls from all over the country. Women with no access to clinics and a young girl asking how long she should keep her virginity. Others asking me to go speak at their communities, asking about ARV's, access to them and side effects. Many just wanted advice.

I loved it! It felt like one of those advice articles you read in magazines.

The Journalism & Media Studies Department at Rhodes University is a building that has beautiful colors and art on the walls. An entire wall has "South African style" radios hanging from it.

We were there to present to a class of journalists, many who wanted to do documentaries and know about my experience recording the diary and working with Joe (the producer of my diary).

Mostly the talk was about what it was like to record in English and not Xhosa, my native language. The students were all South African, but all had different backgrounds. Many of them even seemed a little angry at me for agreeing to English.I told them that at the beginning of this project I did not even want to show my identity. I did not want pictures or my name to be part of the diary. I was doing the diary for people in the US, to be broadcast only on US radio.

To do the diary in Xhosa is something I would have never agreed to. Disclosure in a Xhosa community is the same as a death sentence. English gave me freedom, you see. Freedom to interview my family, to talk about my status to the recorder and to make the recorder my best friend. It was like I was telling somebody else´s´story, not my own.

I only decided to be open to my family and community about this project when got very sick. So sick that I did not even want to go to the hospital because I felt like I was going to die and everyone would know I died of AIDS. At the hospital I was surrounded by people from my community dying from this disease like flies. There I saw that they were dying from AIDS, but they were also dying from not disclosing.  It was then that I thought, how can I be doing this for the US and not for South Africa? It is in South Africa that people need to hear this.

At that moment I knew I had to tell my father, the only person in my family that did not know. The students wanted to know why I had done it with a recorder and in English. Some of them even felt that it was not right to record it. To be honest, English and the recorder made me feel free to say, "I have AIDS." Even if later I had to tell him in Xhosa, at the moment, I had said it. What some of them did not see is that I would not have been able to find the words because Xhosa women do not talk with their fathers about sex, and AIDS is all about sex -- AIDS is seen as the dirtiest part of sex.

There was a lot of talk about culture in this presentation. One thing I have learned is that AIDS has no language or culture. It does not care about race or money or  my culture. It is in a disease of the blood and all of us are at risk.

We hit the road to Grahamstown and this time I was to present to an audience of university students, many who were journalists and activists. The last time I spoke to a university audience was in the US. They asked me many questions about politics and the government in my country. I was afraid that this audience would do the same and I would not know how to answer. Sometimes audiences forget that I am just presenting my story. I am not an expert on AIDS and politics.

The event was organized by the School of Journalism and Media Studies and  SHARC (Students HIV AIDS Resistance Campaign), one of the biggest university organizations working around AIDS awareness in the country.

We presented in an auditorium and were expecting about 50 people and I thought only white people would come. When the presentation began people were crowding the stairways because it was so full. I would say that this was the perfect presentation with the perfect audience. The audience had people from everywhere --  Xhosa people, Zulu people, white people, colored people, people from Capetown, Jo'burg and Durban.

Most of them either studied something in media or did AIDS work in communities and townships. So I felt that they listened different. They paid more attention. When the clips would play, you could hear a pin drop. And they would laugh when it was funny, thye would say "aaahh...," when it was time to go "aaaah." It was like they were really listening closely and because they were young South Africans, they felt like my story was also their story. 

When the presentation was over and they came to congratulate me and then I felt like their story was also my story. I felt that South Africa was changing through them, their questions, their work. One young woman said to me:

"One of the greatest challenges of HIV / AIDS work is reaching young people through young people. No matter how hip or creative our methods reaching the 15 to 25 age group is a challenge. You are exactly what South Africa needs. A willing and eloquent woman sharing her story and eradicating stigma by normalizing her status. Your willingness to discuss is admirable. But what is more important is that teenagers see that you are just a young, beautiful and funny chic -- and everything they would aspire to be."

I was so excited to be on the road, driving away from the Bulungula. Although I was glad to have seen a new side of South Africa. The drive to  East London showed me how beautiful South Africa is. We were driving on the edge of a mountain and I was looking over rivers, forests and the sun hiding behind hills and valleys ...

East London was like a fantasy. Not because it is more beautiful than Cape Town or more famous than Jo'burg, but because it is a place that I had only heard about in stories.

On our free day I visited family in Mdantsane, a very classy and modern township in East London. We had dinner over the seashore and I got to have a nice, hot bath at the B&B.

The Nelson Mandela Institute for Rural Schooling and Development

The Nelson Mandela Institute for Rural Schooling and Development organizes a peer leadership education program where high school kids talk about HIV / AIDS.  I was invited to speak about my story and and the importance of being a leader in a community.The students were from Ebenezer Majomboli High School  and Kulani High School from Mdantsane.

The woman who organized this, Fezeka, was so inspiring to me. She got the kids singing, dancing, thinking and reading poems. We sang Ndino Sanalwam, a song about childhood. Fezeka was trying to make us see that we are the future leaders of South Africa and we must educate ourselves, "Realize that the less you know about HIV, the more in trouble you will find yourselves in."

I felt honored when Fezeka said that I was following the way of Mandela --  planting seeds of knowledge in people's heads, striving to make an impact and leave a mark.  "We must be pencils," she said, "and leave marks. An eraser may erase a mark but a pencil will mark again because that is its nature. If a sharpener comes to cut away at me, I must see it as a challenge. A challenge may threaten to destroy me, but after it has passed, it will have made me sharper and made my mark stronger." - I really like that.

As a South African I know the way these teenagers think. We share a common language and I try my best to present in a way that will motivate them to ask questions. I have gotten good at picking a small topic that will get their attention to talk about a bigger topic. Many had boyfriends and girlfriends. So I knew and from their laughter that my relationship with Melikhaya would be a way to talk about stigma, denial and getting tested. I know that to them, I represent a situation that they could be in.

Melikhaya stole the show again. I was asked if "my boyfriend" still loved me.  I pointed to him in the first row and told the girl to ask him herself. She did, and Melikhaya answered, "bendingasoze ndibekanti ndilapha ukuba bendingamthandi," which means in Xhosa; "I wouldn't be here if I didn't love her."

After the event the kids wanted to take pictures and girls were giggling behind Melikhaya. This presentation made me see that I would not be able to do these events in the same way without him. I would not have the same strength.  If he would have chosen to leave me,  I would have continued with my life but the fact that he is with me just proves that being true to oneself is a way of life. If you love yourself then you can give love and receive love. 

The Bulungula Lodge is a secluded place in the Transkei where tourists come to rural villages to get the "real South African" experience. I went to present to communites from the villages.

The lodge was mistaken for a river, a mountain, a shop and other places that are also called Bulungua. Melikhaya, the official translator, went  into rondovals (round, humble village houses with stick roofs) asking locals for directions. We got lost in the middle of dark fields.

When Melikhaya and I were seen with "white people," they said we were looking for "David's" place, the only white person in the village. And the owner of the Bulungula Lodge. After that, every person we asked pointed us in the right direction toward "David's mansion by the sea."

When I heard "mansion," I got excited. A big, brick house with an electric fence and bodyguard, I thought. But when we arrived there was nothing but more rondovals. But these had colorful paintings on the walls with candles and tourist decorations. As we got off the bus onto the muddy grass,  foreigners said, "oh my god, this is beautiful, it is like a real safari."

The dining room was also a large rondoval. The beer, the food, the music, the low light was exactly like places in Khayelitishia, my township. The difference  here was that these were all white people sitting on the floor with no shoes on. In Khayelitishia we sit on chairs, wear shoes and there are no white people. I thought, my god these people are imitating the township life! I want to learn how to be rich and these rich people are pretending to be poor.

There was no mansion, only colorful rondovals with no electricity. Not my style. But I was happy because Joe and Melikhaya were happy, so I relaxed drank some wine and went with the flow.

The Day at Bulungula Lodge

In the morning I woke up and found a goat staring at me. I almost left running back to Cape Town right there. I thought a shower would fix things but got lost trying to find the toilet and only found a shower head next to a tree.  Here is a picture. Come all the way to a tourist vacation lodge to have to boil hot water! And people pay for this?? I should invite them to Khayelitshia where we do this everyday.

The best part were the beaches. Melikhaya and I were walking with him taking pictures like if I was a model in a photo shoot.  Melikhaya even got excited about riding a horse. The city boy ran in on a grey horse like a country boy. I did it too but the fun only lasted 10 minutes and then I thought why does this horse have to carry me in the hot sun. I felt bad. He might throw me off out of anger. I got off the horse and took a nap in the sun.

Waiting for Melikhaya two large groups of children ran toward me, kind of staring at me.  I felt nervous, scared and uncomfortable. I saw that they were holding postcards from the tour. Out of no where I felt like crying. This had never happened to me but I did not want to do the presentation.

It was like I was the city girl coming to the country and they knew  that I was the one who had HIV / AIDS and had came to entertain them. The ignorance of the village kids mixed with white tourists acting like poor South Africans made me feel like a clown. Melikhaya had to present for me. They told me he did great!

Melikhaya said that the children thought he was joking about being HIV positive. They know it exists, but can't imagine that healthy looking people can have it.  All of this reminded me how important it is to have access to information and education.

So......a goat, bare feet, no mansion, no electricity, and no cell. phone connection.... goodbye Bulungula,  I could not wait to get back to the city!!