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How gay Zimbabweans are
fighting HIV
17 July 2008-
Zimbabwe-"You're the first caller I've had for a few days now," Samuel
Matsikure tells me from the GALZ health centre in Harare. The telephone
lines in the city are working again after a 24-hour break in service,
but despite the continuing poor line, Matsikure speaks in a bright, calm
tone that belies his circumstances.
"People are
struggling with transport costs and things being so expensive, so they
can't come and see us." He's talking about some of the one in five
Zimbabweans that are living with HIV-Aids and of those who seek to avoid
infection. In a country with few jobs, scarce food and inflation upwards
of 100,000 percent, even the cost of a bus ride can be a barrier to
seeking help.
Economics, however,
is not the only obstacle to seeking help for HIV-Aids in Zimbabwe.
Despite an estimated 1.8 million people in the country living with
HIV-Aids, stigma remains not only a significant obstacle to accessing
treatment, but also a powerful force for dividing families and
propagating conflict within communities.
For the community
served by Matsikure and his team at GALZ, however, stigma has always run
deep. When Robert Mugabe threatened legal action against "sexual
perverts" that he considered "lower than cats and dogs" in 1995, he was
talking about GALZ's community – the Gays and Lesbians of Zimbabwe.
"We have many
challenges," explains Matsikure, "but it’s not nearly as bad as it used
to be in '95 and '96. Now we rarely hear of people getting gay bashed,
it is more verbal abuse than physical abuse…and people are discussing
the issue."
GALZ has played a
significant part in this attitudinal shift by developing counseling for
families that have become divided by an individual's coming out or
outing, and by providing ongoing advice for the individual that is the
focus of the stigma.
The government has
not shifted its position, however, which prevents GALZ from officially
registering as a service provider. "This is not something they will want
to accept," explains Matsikure, his tone remaining calm, "because if
they are to register us they have to recognize that we are in existence.
"Given the
difficulties in the mid-1990s, GALZ now operates at all times with
caution. The tense political situation of the last few years and
particularly the uncertainty of the recent elections have put even more
pressure on GALZ to remain invisible.
Matsikure and his
colleagues no longer invite their members to their offices for fear that
the police will characterize their meetings as acts of political
dissent, and they have dropped the advertisements for their services in
local newspapers to minimize the possibility of a government backlash.
Trying to provide
HIV-Aids services to a community that is either unaware of the service
or too poor or frightened to engage would appear an impossible task,
particularly given that GALZ's non-registration with the government puts
public funds out of reach.
"We have some
donors," explains Matsikure with an audible smile, "some good-hearted
people, both locally and abroad. Some help us to fund our services, and
some people come from abroad with unwanted ARV's collected from their
doctors."
As with all things
in Zimbabwe, the cost of the anti-retroviral (ARV) drugs – crucial in
slowing HIV's effects on the body – are prohibitive for the majority of
those in need, and without GALZ's interventions a significant population
would be without this crucial support.
The challenge to
engage effectively with the community persists, however. "Some people
still find us through the grapevine and also on the internet," Matsikure
assures me, although for much of the week the internet site has been
inaccessible.
"But the big
challenge is for people who are in the rural areas, because some don't
even know where we are". Matsikure and his colleagues have not been
complacent. GALZ is now focusing on training new workers to develop a
sustained presence in more outlying communities that in many cases have
never previously been reached.
Matsikure recognizes
that, if approached naively, outreach work in rural communities can
create more problems than it solves, so his team approach each new
development with extreme care.
"We may not know
the culture or political situation of a particular area," he explains,
"If you want to do something within the community … you have to know the
local headman or the local chief." Matsikure
recognises the dangers of such a
direct approach, so GALZ's teams instead utilize small towns as focal
points for their work.
This way, interested
parties from the villages can talk at length with GALZ's workers away
from the sensitivities and stigmas of their own, closer-knit
communities.
The approach is
well-planned, with GALZ co-coordinators working with local partners to
organize intensive residential training workshops, with the agendas set
not by GALZ, but by the participants. "Maybe they've got a particular
subject that they want education on, such as access to treatment or
something to do with the law," clarifies Matsikure.
"We are able to
share this information with them and we also give them some of our
booklets and pamphlets so that when they go back to their communities
they are able to provide the right information."
The results of
GALZ's new programmes clearly show that in the pursuit of appropriate
support for communities struggling to cope with HIV-Aids, the
difficulties of stigma and lack of official recognition can be
transcended.
What will continue
to be a burden to GALZ, however (and will trouble other communities that
adopt its model) will be the constant financial difficulties of
supporting such a programme. Against the bleak backdrop of Zimbabwe's
failed economy, Samuel Matsikure has many challenges ahead.
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