Bukavu Week 2.4

Thursday

We meet vivianne, who is working on women’s issues around HIV. We met back in 2003, when she had a lot of family members dead or sick as they waited for the medicines to reach them.

She looks great, has since had a third child and is focused on women and AIDS. Unfortunately, she tells us the same story. Sent a proposal to the PNMLS, who is channeling the World Bank money, to counsel and test women for HIV, give them prevention tools plus a sensibilization component to reach 30,000 women.

Her submission requested $10,000 budget. Her application was accepted, the amount reduced to 1/10 minus the 10% administrative fee. The goals were kept intact, but the time to deliver these numbers was reduced to three months. She received $929,24.

Good news for the community is that in spite of this she over-delivered on all the program goals. Here in Bukavu it is not hard to reach goals, the hard part is to get the proper funding.

We go out for a “sucre”(soft drink) and we stumble upon a youth group playing pool. Soon, talk turns to HIV. They talk about appearances and I ask if they think I am. Soon enough Vivianne is testing me for HIV in front of the pool table.

One young man asked angrily, what is the point to test or get treatment if we have nothing to eat?

Good point. But the reason to test and get treatment if needed is to be alive. Healthy people can access food much better than sick ones. That is the point.

Time for lunch, but before we stop by PNMLS to say hello and profit that vivianne can help introduce us to this lair. And what a lair this is…security guards; complex entry protocol (akin to seeking an audience with an ambassador) impeccable gardens greeted the waiting area. Finally, after much movement by the security detail, we were invited in.

The 4 brand new Toyota land cruisers stood out in the garage, the office of this man was like stumbling into Wall Street. Mahogany desk and library, leather executive chair and opulence that matches nothing we have seen so far.

PNMLS was put in place to channel the monies arriving in Congo to deal with the AIDS crisis. PNMLS’s president is Kabila himself(Congo’s president since the assassination of his father, Laurent). Those in charge of the regional offices are versed more in their relationship to Kabila than to HIV/AIDS. It is sad to see the international community giving with such wanton. Who is auditing this? It is an outrage that in a land where doctors earn $12 a month, Congolese programs would accommodate such luxuries to deliver the help intended for PVV’s.

Proposals are accepted, monies reduced, deliverables maintained. Is the global fund being lead to think they are doing their job as deliverables are always exceeded? Do they know it is being done at a fraction? Are they aware that of all 58 associations funded by PNMLS, 39 formed this year alone?

It reminds me of a time in Geneva, back in 2003 where the Global Fund was meeting there came out as the fourth point in the agenda that all trips in excess of 6 hours be upgraded to business class. I bided my time and then came my turn to speak. I said,

The money it takes to bring the pills to the patient is the money left for the pills.


Ps. I have not been invited to another Global Fund meeting since.

We still had a meeting to go to. This time a sensibilization program in the heart of Kadutu, Bukavu’s South Bronx.

Our friends told us that we were going to the heart of it all. There are maisons tolerance (bordellos), rappers, musicians, rastas and children everywhere. The pathways cut a line among the slow-slung homes bisected by streams of human runoff. These ended in a spectacular waterfall where children played and women washed clothes?!

The group brought the light I always seek when I go on mission. That is when I see locals take initiative. They understood the goals and made their own way to reach them.

They focus on youth and have the traditional game hall where youth hangout, playing board games, billiards and watching videos. Understanding their target group looks up to musicians, Rastas and football players, they have created the best programs I have seen so far.

There’s SIDA-Disco (AIDS-Disco), a party where musicians play, people dance and sensibilization is done. The football program where they do outreach at football matches, providing condoms and literature for the game-obsessed youth of Bukavu.

Another program is for young men and their Cocotte (girlfriend). A busload of young, coupled youth are taken outside town to Plage 18Km, a beach on Lac Kivu where they can enjoy the lake, listen to music from local musicians and learn how to stay on top of the AIDS crisis. It is located exactly 18 kilometers from town, a great incentive to remain to listen to the educational component as there is nowhere else to go.

In all, it shows how people are adapting their ways and message to reach those vulnerable. To see Bukavians stepping outside given parameters is where the light starts shining. The light that with local initiatives and creativity we can all reach the same goals. The goal of pulling the brakes on the rampant infection rates we see here.
Ps.
For every encouraging sign, there is always something that makes you hairs stand on end.

Changiliya
Bukavu’s newest fad. No, it is not a new dance or music genre, but the new terror spreading through the slum of Kadutu.

Changiliya bat records(Changiliya is breaking records)

Sniper at 12!
Says one young man to his posse of 5. it points to the position of the next prey.

They like to target young girls. If one catches her looking, he starts the flirting rap. The rest walk away leaving the impression they are going to leave their friend alone with his new “love” interest.


He is now alone with his prey and lures her to a ghetto, an abandoned shack, used for illicit liaisons- meaning any sexual contact outside marriage.

Girls are always taught that they must never show overt desires. Men are taught that is them who “drive” the women. So begins this ritual where the girl is hesitantly driven to this ghetto. Once the sexual rapport is underway, the second guest arrives…catching them in the act, he claims the right to get some himself or he will tell what he has witnessed..

She will soon find out that the number of visitors to this shack will not leave her until they have made the chain to their satisfaction or when she collapses from the assault. Their trademark is to leave a river of sperm spewing from the girl’s femininity. Then they have done the Changiliya.

This girl, once, is now a battered soul unable to denounce, as it is cause enough to be thrown out of her home. After all, what was she doing going to a ghetto? What she can’t avoid is the young men talking…that one there, she’s been done in chain, she’s had the Changiliya.

For these girls, the next step is usually to seek solace with other women who have been through the same…the houses of tolerance where she is picked up to baby sit the prostitute’s children for food and soon enough, they will be told to “work” for their food.

For these men, they get notoriety for having done the Changiliya to many and they get to choose a virgin to marry and fulfill the promise that a woman must serve her man. Fetch wood, cook, clean and never refuse their man’s sexual advances or she is out the door.

It is well known in these great lakes that rape has been used as a weapon of terror, spreading disease, heartache and displacing thousands of women as they are now deemed “used and dirty” by all. Changiliya is the urban evolution of this practice.
and it it breaking records...