South Africa has lately been at the center of the world prostitutes movement. The International Network of Sex Work Projects is currently based in Capetown. And not far from Capetown, the recent 13th International AIDS Conference was held July 9-14. But whether it occurs in Geneva or Durban, this event is a magnet for sex workers’ rights activists and is a must-attend for anyone who plays a leadership role in the world prostitutes movement.
Right now, as I sit in New York, playing hooky from the biggest event of the year, alliances are forming and shifting, dying, reviving. Political love affairs are breaking down. Some are being tenderly nourished. Covert enemies are smiling at each other as they salivate over each other’s funding. New factions are sprouting as former enemies are forced to share hotel rooms. Australians are dissing each other to their foreign allies, Latin Americans are making North Americans feel guilty and North Americans (especially from the U.S.) are trying not to offend anyone from Europe or any developing countries.
AIDS is a tragedy of epic proportions, claiming millions of lives. But AIDS has also made the prostitutes movement a global one. Before AIDS, the movement sought its alliances among feminists, and this limited our growth. During the past decade this has changed and most of the important alliances tend to be AIDS related. AIDS is terrible, we all agree, but it helped our movement come of age. Many activist prostitutes have built innovative careers in public health, social and medical research and elsewhere because of AIDS.
In real life, far from the politicized atmosphere of the sex workers summit in Durban, working prostitutes also benefit from the very thing they fear. In the 1980s, when my friends in the life became aware of AIDS, some clients had trouble getting used to condoms. And one working girl I know expressed the problem personally. She told a client: “If you’ve ever had to sit next to the hospital bed of a friend who is dying of this disease, you’ll appreciate the need for a condom!”
Yes, ’80s foreplay was sometimes heavy-handed. But she wasn’t kidding. One of this girl’s best friends from high school, a gay man, had just died.
Later, when just about everyone in our sphere — clients, working girls, madams — had converted to the cause of condoms, she told me: “Thank god for AIDS — when I think of all the men I used to see without condoms, I just can’t believe it!”
Her sorrow over a friend who died of AIDS was, is, still real. But AIDS gave her a good reason — an “excuse” — to use a device that had been unfashionable for a while. Condoms made her work a lot safer in general. Risks she had previously taken for granted pre-AIDS now seemed intolerable. Like any other person who has experienced technological improvements on the job, she was amazed at what she had once been able to live with.
Other prostitutes agreed with my friend. It was comforting to know you weren’t being exposed to chlamydia, pregnancy or gonorrhea. Men, the selfish beasts, weren’t so easily persuaded by the specter of curable ailments or of pregnancies that didn’t affect them. The incurable specter of AIDS became a handy angel of guilt hovering over our beds, urging our customers to wear condoms.
Pre-AIDS, when condoms were not always the norm, it was normal to get tested at least monthly for a range of STDs (sexually transmitted diseases). This wasn’t just time-consuming, it was expensive. But worth it, of course.
“Before AIDS,” one friend reminisced, “I used to spend $200 a month on gonorrhea cultures and lab tests. Once I actually had to get a penicillin shot.” And once, she even got pregnant, as a result of the imperfections of the diaphragm method. Condoms have made her life safer and saner by reducing her medical and emotional overhead.
When your body is your portable workstation, you fear for its safety. You’re alert to the many bugs, glitches and unwelcome problems that can endanger its health, put you out of work, make you less marketable. For many prostitutes, AIDS is just one of these hazards and it’s not even the largest threat in our sex lives.
Safe sex means more than preventing infection with HIV. It means increasing protection of your cervix from HPV (human papilloma virus) and cancer by using a barrier like a condom or a diaphragm. It means protecting your throat against gonorrhea, guarding against pregnancy, protecting your clients from infections. Nobody wants to expose a customer to an STD.
When it comes to prostitution and illness, it’s the transmittable ailments that get all the front-page coverage. But for many hookers, the biggest health problems are work related yet noncontagious. So, safe sex can also mean abstaining from vaginal intercourse — with lovers or clients — to reduce the mechanical irritations leading to nonspecific urethritis and recurring bladder infections.
“I had a UTI [urinary tract infection] that was actually caused by my boyfriend — we were having too good a time — and I couldn’t work,” one girl told me. “My doctor ordered me to stop fucking for two entire weeks. I didn’t listen to him because I felt better — the infection was gone. And then the problem came back a month later. I lost more time because I was too greedy to give my body a rest.”
The second time around, she stuck to oral sex during the recovery period and was able to return to work.
In each case, then, “safe” takes on different meanings. Many readers of my fiction series have asked why fictional call girl Nancy Chan doesn’t kiss. Is it, they ask, because kissing is too intimate? Not exactly. Refusing to kiss clients on the mouth is, for many professionals, a form of safe sex.
Many working girls say that kissing increases their chance of catching a cold, and most prostitutes I know worry more about catching a cold than they do about contracting an exotic and deadly virus. The STD problem they’ve got covered — with condoms — but other bugs are harder to dodge. Many prostitutes say that being exposed at close quarters to so many people is a challenge to the immune system. They fanatically dose themselves with vitamin C and coenzyme Q, keep boxes of homeopathic cold remedies on hand and sleep a lot.
Even though a cold won’t kill you, it will put you out of work for a week. Prostitution is demanding: You are required to look and act alert, happy, healthy and pretty at all times. You cannot do this with a runny nose or a sore throat. In some jobs, you might be regarded as a hero for struggling into the office with the remains of a head cold. In this job, you just look desperate.
When your body is your business, you don’t find it insulting to be told about the latest new STD test — you actively want the latest and the best in prevention, detection and (if need be) treatment.
A friend of mine in the business says, “If you don’t get an HIV test, if you don’t sit down and think about every sex act you perform, you’re unprofessional. If you don’t use condoms, if you don’t get your blood tested, you’re an incredible slob. It’s piggish not to care if you’re a pro. But if you’re not a pro, it’s romantic; it’s a sign of your innocence perhaps or your purity.”
In 1992, one of my closest friends, an editor in her 20s, was still on the Pill. I knew what this meant: She wasn’t using condoms! How relentlessly I nagged her, and how merrily she resisted my finger-wagging warnings. “Oh, I’m just being very fin de sihcle about it,” she said, cheerfully. “Besides, I’m not as much of a feminist about this condom thing as you are, Tracy.”
That really shut me up, since I regarded myself not as a feminist but as a post-feminist. God, was HIV turning me into one of those preachy militant friends — the kind of female friend who advises you not to lose weight because she fears you’ll develop an eating disorder (even though you really need to lose 15 pounds)?
I was somewhat pissed off with her. A prostitute who decides to take risks with her body would be viewed as a social menace in need of rehab, a dangerous vector of disease, perhaps even a felon in some parts of the United States. Only a shameless amateur could get away with this.
It was indeed a very fin de sihcle moment: My “virtuous” friend had never disapproved of my sexual conduct, was quite supportive of my right to do it, and I was the scandalized, self-righteous one. I wanted to be a good sexual citizen and she didn’t care one way or the other. In reality, I was more preoccupied with sex-based “virtue” than she was. I consoled myself with the thought that I, the responsible sex professional, was taking proper care of my intimate equipment.
But again, the concept of “safe” keeps changing. This year I began to read about the possible dangers posed by monthly ovulation and the likely benefits of the Pill. I was horrified and humbled by the realization that my Pill-taking friend — the self-confessed sexual amateur who’d slept with perhaps seven men in her entire life, who once told me “there has to be a patina of respectability” when she goes to bed with a man — had probably done a better job of protecting her ovaries and her uterus than I had! While practicing safe sex with condoms and reducing one set of risks, I had inadvertently exposed myself to other risks.
I called up a fellow activist, an ex-prostitute with a Ph.D. in public health who frequently gives lectures on how to reduce HIV risk among sex workers. I railed about the possible harm caused by our movement’s obsession with HIV — condom-using sex workers are exposing their ovaries to possible cancer for years on end!
“Is it possible that, in some cases, a female prostitute is more at risk of contracting ovarian cancer than HIV? That if she had to choose between the Pill and a condom she might, because of her particular style of working, be safer with the Pill?” I asked.
I expected her to cluck disapprovingly. HIV after all is a sacred cow. I didn’t know what she would say about the ovarian cancer risk posed by monthly ovulation. Just another crackpot theory?
“Actually,” she said, “I think there’s something to it. In the Netherlands, a lot of prostitutes use Depo-Provera. Their work schedules aren’t interrupted by menstruation and they use condoms, too.” She surprised me by agreeing that a sex worker’s HIV risk can be grossly exaggerated. But we both felt that saying this too loudly in the prostitutes movement would be perceived as irresponsible.
Just as professionals are often divided from “amateurs” by their attitudes toward safe sex, testing and risk, prostitutes themselves are sexually factionalized.
There is the faction that always uses a condom for oral sex. There is the faction that prefers to but sometimes goes without.
There’s also a generation gap. Call girls and madams of a certain age, who still embrace the free and easy mores of the ’60s and ’70s, are often repelled by the idea of performing oral sex with a condom. Or they have trouble taking the idea seriously.
Prostitutes in their 20s and 30s are accustomed to taking extra precautions. They’re often impatient with relaxed sexual attitudes. “Forget it!” a friend once said, describing a madam’s special request. “Never! It’s not worth getting gonorrhea of the throat for $300.”
It’s commonly accepted that while AIDS is the harbinger, the use of latex protects working girls against less deadly bugs. Despite all the talk of death, the working girl feels she is winning a daily, weekly, hourly battle with mundane things like trichomoniasis, nonspecific vaginal infections, gonorrhea and chlamydia.
But some professionals feel justified in making exceptions. “I have a regular who is so biiiiiig,” says another girl. “I just can’t get a latex condom onto him. We’ve tried everything, even the larger latex ones.” When she confessed to using a rolled Trojan lambskin, she quickly added, “I put nonoxynol-9 in the tip, just in case.” Why, some readers might wonder, doesn’t a successful call girl just drop a client if he’s too well-endowed to deal with a latex condom? Nobody knows better than she that we’re experiencing an economic boom.
“I like him,” she shrugs, “and he’s really quick. I know latex is the safest and lambskin’s kind of risky. But really, I think the risk is minimal.”
Safer sex is harder sex. In assessing a client’s value, some prostitutes just look at his price. Others realize that a client’s true “price” or value isn’t just what he pays.
“My safest client,” says my friend with the well-endowed client, “is a guy who takes forever in bed. I don’t mind because he’s so ultrasafe. But he’s a lot of work. I feel drained after he leaves. I know he would come so much faster if I took off the damn condom … Sometimes I’m tempted. I could just take that thing off and he’d be done! It’s very tempting. But life is full of temptations, isn’t it?”
As a lens to explore the complex and deeply fraught relationship between Africa and the West, the AIDS epidemic is as revealing and disturbing as it gets. Born in colonial Africa and discovered in gay America, the devastating rise of AIDS has been fueled in no small part by the clash of cultures that played out over the past 130 years or so between Africa, Europe and the U.S. — and the rivers of resentment those conflicts have sown.
“Tinderbox,” an insightful new book from a journalist and an AIDS researcher, tells the story of the epidemic from its birth in colonial Congo — where it lingered undetected for decades — to its sudden spread around the globe in the 1980s, to its status today as the object of a global public health war directed from Washington and Geneva and targeting Africa, home to some 70 percent of all AIDS cases today.
Narrating this disturbing tale are Craig Timberg, former South Africa bureau chief for the Washington Post, and Daniel Halperin, an epidemiologist, AIDS researcher and former advisor to the U.S. government’s anti-AIDS program. Timberg met Halperin in the middle of his five-year stint as the Post’s Johannesburg bureau chief and the two began exploring questions that had bothered Timberg since his arrival in South Africa.
Timberg, now back in Washington as the Post’s deputy national security editor, spoke with Salon about the book.
Perceptions about the origins and spread of AIDS have changed over time in fascinating ways. First, it was seen as a gay disease. When it was detected in Africa, people assumed it came from the West. Over time, scientists showed it originated in Africa, a notion rejected by many Africans but in keeping with Western notions about third-world diseases. You show in the book that AIDS arose as a result of sweeping changes in social structure brought to Africa by European colonialism. Describe its origins.
Scientists have known for more than a decade that the version of HIV that has caused almost all cases of AIDS is virtually identical to a virus common in central African chimpanzees. That’s not controversial. The location of the transmission was determined by a group of scientists who narrowed it down to chimpanzees living in southeastern Cameroon by collecting their feces, detecting the virus and comparing it to other strains collected elsewhere. Michael Worobey from the University of Arizona and his team mapped the genetic structure of pieces of HIV from all over the world, looking at the extent of mutations between them. They were able to make assumptions about how many years it would have taken to produce these changes. The time frame puts you close to the turn of the 20th century for the original virus, the ancestor to all modern HIV.
How was the spread of AIDS to humans linked to colonialism?
In southeastern Cameroon, at the exact moment scientists now believe HIV entered the human population, you had steamships going up rivers that never had steamships before. You have porters who are virtually human pack animals carrying ivory or gear for colonial companies through dense forests. One of those porters would have been the first human to contract HIV. It looks like HIV goes from the chimp population into a hunter who cuts himself while butchering a chimpanzee for food. It then spreads in a localized way along these porter paths and colonial trading posts and eventually comes down river on a steamship into Kinshasa, then called Leopoldville, the first major city in that part of the world.
And that leads to what you call the Big Bang – when HIV explodes and moves out of the Congo.
That’s right. A single spark emanating from southeastern Cameroon works its way to colonial Leopoldville. But HIV doesn’t spread fast on its own. It needs particular conditions to race through a population and Leopoldville had them. It was big and growing fast. It had a high concentration of men working in factories, separated from their wives and girlfriends. It had an emerging population of sex workers and transport to get people back and forth. Gonorrhea, syphilis, chlamydia spread like wildfire; HIV doesn’t but starts to spread along railroad lines, porter paths and rivers during the early and middle part of the 20th century. When scientists look at the genetic structures of different types of HIV they all seem to have come from a single piece of ancestral HIV that existed in Leopoldville at the beginning of the 20th century.
So HIV lingered in small numbers of people but doesn’t exit this area. When researchers go back to blood samples collected during the 1976 outbreak of Ebola virus, they find HIV.
Yes, so in the middle part of the 20th century about 1 percent of adults in major population centers of the Congo had HIV. Before they died, they developed symptoms of other familiar maladies—pneumonia, tuberculosis, wasting. It wasn’t obvious there was a new epidemic loose in the land until gay men in the United States started getting sick in the early 1980s. Before that, it didn’t spread far and it didn’t spread fast. The reason seems to be that in colonial Congo, the majority of adult men would have been circumcised and circumcised men are much less likely to contract HIV and pass it on. It’s only when HIV makes its way out of the Congo River basin to other places more hospitable to its spread that we get a true explosion.
Many people assume AIDS must be a disease of poverty. But you argue that wealth, modern transportation and economic development were key factors that allowed AIDS to break out.
When I first went to Africa as a correspondent in 2004, I carried this question with me: Why is HIV so severe in some places and not in others? Logic said: Africa, poverty, poor medical systems — there had to be a connection. But when I started traveling to different countries I discovered that most truly outrageous hellholes — places with warfare and incredible poverty — didn’t have much HIV. Other places with modern transport and sophisticated economies had a lot. When I met my co-author, Daniel Halperin, it began to come together. I saw that while being poor and having HIV is certainly a very bad thing because you’re more likely to die when you can’t afford medicine, some degree of economic activity actually makes you more vulnerable. When the epidemic starts spreading widely in some African societies it’s in the cities. Wealthier people — doctors, teachers, politicians, singers — get HIV in completely disastrous numbers. Some of that has to do with access to resources and multiple sexual partners.
You begin with a chapter on the city of Francistown, Botswana, an affluent place with a horrendous HIV rate. What struck you about Francistown?
I drove to Francistown for the first time in 2006 and it felt like driving into anywhere, USA. I could buy a hamburger at Wimpy’s, order a shot of espresso. There were cafes and ATMs. Yet it had this horrendous HIV rate. Among women in their 30s, two-thirds were infected. The picture of poverty before HIV didn’t add up. When you scratch the surface you begin to realize that other factors — human movement, transport, sexual behavior, circumcision or lack of it — are decisive in how the virus spread.
You describe the AIDS belt, an area in southern Africa at the very heart of the African epidemic. What are the characteristics that made it, as you call it, a tinderbox?
There’s a giant swath of the continent that starts at the southern end of Sudan, goes down through east Africa to South Africa and out to the sea where you have this combination of sexual networks and low rates of male circumcision. Together they produce the tinderbox. Two centuries ago most of Africa had polygamous societies in which the richest, most powerful men had multiple wives. In contemporary Africa, in part because of that tradition and in part because of the ravages of colonialism and migratory labor, many men and women have more than one sexual partner over the course of a week or month. But to be part of the AIDS belt, you need one more thing: low rates of male circumcision. The people who migrated down the Nile River basin from Sudan never had circumcision as part of their tradition. In the southern part of the continent, it was a tradition pretty much everywhere until about 200 years ago when some ethnic groups began to give it up. In those places you see HIV rates of 10, 15, even 25 percent.
Why is circumcision effective and why was early evidence of its power missed?
A man’s foreskin is unusually vulnerable to HIV; the skin is thinner, softer and more easily penetrated by HIV and other pathogens. When it’s removed, the remaining skin is rougher and more resistant to infection. That makes no difference if you’re a gay man who is the receptive partner in anal sex. But the African epidemic is spread predominantly through heterosexual sex, particularly vaginal sex, and circumcision is crucial. Circumcised men are at least 70 percent less likely to get HIV. This science first began to appear in the mid-1980s.
That’s three decades ago!
That’s right. That data seemed to offer this miraculous new insight. But the global public health community was deeply uncomfortable with the subject. It took another 20 years to come up with evidence so definitive they accepted it. Peter Piot, one of the central characters in the AIDS response, was part of that research team. Yet during all the years he was head of UNAIDS he was not enthusiastic about this science. To be fair, establishing correlation is not the same as establishing causality. And it’s a pretty serious thing to contemplate altering men’s penises if you’re the global health community.
One area of culture clash between global health agencies and Africa is over condoms. What happened?
People who had watched AIDS in the U.S. were mindful of the way condoms seemed to slow the spread of HIV there and especially in Thailand, where the epidemic was transmitted mainly in brothels. It was hard for those officials to understand how different the African epidemics were. In several places, Africans were saying, “Hey, our best chance for surviving is for people to have fewer sex partners at a time.” But Westerners had condoms on their minds. The U.S. government and other organizations made a huge bet on condoms and reasoned that if you could just get enough of them to people in vulnerable places you could reverse the epidemic. Instead, reported usage of condoms in some African societies went to rates far higher than anywhere else but HIV also went up. That puzzled people until it became clear that people were using condoms with prostitutes or one-night stands but not in long-term relationships with their husbands, wives, boyfriends or girlfriends. And that’s how HIV is most likely to spread.
Uganda emerged in the early days of the epidemic as a place that took effective action, changed people’s behavior and lowered HIV transmission.
In 1986 a new government took over and confronted the facts of AIDS. They knew it was fatal, they knew it was incurable, they knew it was spread by sex, and they knew a lot of people already had it. So political, religious and cultural leaders focused on changing the sexual behavior that was at the core of HIV’s spread. The most famous terms for this was zero grazing, a metaphor that worked well in an overwhelmingly agrarian society. When leaders said zero grazing, Ugandans understood at an intuitive level that having sex with your primary partner is much safer than having sex with a primary partner and others. If a large number of people make a relatively small change in their number of sex partners it can make a massive difference in the spread of HIV. That’s what happened in Uganda and hundreds of thousands of lives were saved.
Why were the powers that be in global health so reluctant to focus on behavior change?
The global health infrastructure was uncomfortable talking about differences in sexual behavior. That’s a shame because a sexually transmitted epidemic is by definition spread by sex. To understand why it’s worse in some places than others you have to dive into some inherently uncomfortable questions about a very private matter.
Yet there was historical evidence here that changing behavior made a difference. San Francisco closed the bathhouses and it helped. In New York, behavior changes led to lower rates of anal gonorrhea in the early days of the epidemic.
Those changes were instituted within coherent communities. Gay men advocated the closing of bathhouses and made the choice to have fewer partners or use condoms. In Africa that process was hampered by the slowness to accept that AIDS was real and the fact that people are understandably resistant to being told what to do by a large and powerful outside force. Many of these societies need our financial aid, our technical assistance to do things that matter to them, including improving public health. The tension over how much to listen to outsiders while not wanting to be told what to do has troubling consequences that have infused the world’s response to AIDS in all sorts of ways.
What lessons do you draw from the way the epidemic has been addressed in Africa?
The overriding lesson is that sex matters. Those of us who care about people getting this terrible disease can’t be squeamish in discussing sexual behavior because we’re afraid of how it makes us look. The research has to be good, the messaging has to be forceful and clear. It’s not enough to tell people to use condoms all the time because the evidence after more than 30 years is that people don’t, not often enough to be truly decisive. We also have to be willing to engage in questions about how many partners people are having, we need to tell people that from the viewpoint of sexually transmitted infections, anal sex is more dangerous than vaginal or oral sex. These things are uncomfortable to talk about. At the same time, if we take seriously the moral question of trying to prevent as many infections as we can, we can’t be frightened of these subjects.
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KISUMU, Kenya – Thirty years after the discovery of AIDS, scientists believe for the first time that they now have the tools to beat back the deadly virus.

The evidence is found in HIV prevention research conducted here on the shores of Lake Victoria and in several other parts of sub-Saharan Africa, long the epicenter of AIDS. The most notable research discovery stems from the HIV Prevention Trials Network 052 clinical trial, a U.S.-funded, nine-country study that found early treatment reduced the risk of HIV transmission to an uninfected partner by 96 percent.
The 052 results – announced to a standing ovation in Rome at the International AIDS Society conference in July – was one in a line of recent breakthroughs, including the benefits of male circumcision to prevent infection, and smaller conceptual advances in an HIV vaccine candidate as well as with microbicides, or gels used by women to stop transmission.
But the gloomy global economic situation, and recent scale-backs in HIV funding around the world, have cast great doubt as to whether policymakers will take advantage of the combination of new prevention tools to fight AIDS.
This collision of scientific advances vs. economic realities also comes at a heightened political moment of the U.S.’s own making: Secretary of State Hillary Rodham Clinton earlier this month called for an “AIDS-free generation,” and the United States’ actions on AIDS will be in the spotlight during next July’s International AIDS Society conference in Washington, D.C., which is being held in the U.S. for the first time in 22 years due to the Obama administration’s decision last year to end U.S. entry restrictions on people who have HIV. The conference is expected to attract more than 25,000 people from around the world.
President Obama is expected on Thursday — World AIDS Day — to talk about his administration’s next steps on AIDS, following Clinton’s speech. This would be his first major speech on AIDS as president; he has remained largely silent on all global health issues. Even when Obama announced a bold new Global Health Initiative, the White House put out only an eight-paragraph statement.
“The terrific science in the last year is coming up against the fiscal constraints,” said Chris Collins, vice president and director of public policy amfAR, the Foundation for AIDS Research. “It is going to take choices. That is the big challenge for policymakers in the next couple of years: How to get above the day-to-day politics here and use the resources as strictly as possible. We now need to hear our president articulate his policy action plan for an AIDS-free generation.”
Several sources within the Obama administration said in interviews that Clinton’s speech at the National Institutes of Health was at least partially spurred by the realization that next year’s AIDS conference will shine a spotlight on the U.S. commitment to fighting the virus, both globally and domestically. The idea was that the United States will be able to report back to the conference on its plan of action globally, while also speak about ongoing research in several U.S. cities about the most effective ways of finding those who are infected and then putting them on treatment.
In the meantime, Obama’s top scientists are urging that the research discoveries to prevent HIV transmission are put to use. The one in the forefront is the best known of all: Dr. Anthony Fauci, director of the National Institute of Allergy and Infectious Diseases, who has advised U.S. presidents since Ronald Reagan on how best to address AIDS.
“All of a sudden we have a convergence of prevention approaches, which includes treatment as prevention, and that really validates the concept of combination prevention,” Fauci told GlobalPost in an interview earlier this month. “There is now an enthusiasm and an excitement if we can implement some of these scientific advances, we can have a major impact in turning around the trajectory of the epidemic.”
Fauci said that future modeling of the AIDS epidemic shows that if prevention tools are effective and if fewer people are infecting others, a precipitous fall in HIV infections could follow. Then, he said, the whole arc of the epidemic could crumble.
“When we can get the incidence of HIV down enough to turn the trajectory of the pandemic, it will assume a momentum of its own in diminishing HIV,” he said.
“That’s because the fewer people who are transmitting infection and the more people who are trying to protect themselves from infection – those are the two arms of the problem – that diminishes the pool of people capable of infecting the other people.”
A UNAIDS report released last week concluded that the global expansion of AIDS treatment has made a significant difference in terms of saving lives and almost surely in preventing infections. It estimated that new HIV infections were reduced by 21 percent since 1997, and deaths from AIDS-related illnesses decreased by 21 percent since 2005. It also found that 6.6 million people were on life-extending antiretroviral treatment in 2010, an increase of 1.35 million from the previous year.
Given the findings of the 052 study, scientists and researchers said that the more people who are put on treatment, the more infections will be averted. The experts said that funding isn’t the only issue. Another key one is making sure the prevention strategy matches the specific epidemic in a country.
“Funding is not enough today and probably will never be adequate,” said Robert Hecht, a principal and managing director at Results for Development who has done extensive modeling on what will happen in various scenarios with AIDS funding.
He continued: “What will be important is getting some of these countries to recognize that if they don’t have all the money they need, they need to target programs for the high-risk groups. If you had to choose, say, between a few more dollars for sex education in the schools, or spending it more to reach gay men, or injecting drug users, the countries would be better to use it in the latter programs.”
In Kisumu, the principal city of western Kenya, with a population of roughly 500,000, the 052 trial was stopped in May because it was working so well that researchers felt it was no longer ethically defensible to keep a control group on placebos. Dr. Lisa Mills, the principal investigator for the western Kenya part of the study, and chief of the HIV Research Branch at KEMRI-CDC (a long-time collaboration between Kenya and U.S. researchers), said the Kenyan government already had started people earlier on treatment, but she and others hoped that more funding would allow for another expansion.
“The modeling shows that the amount of funds used for treatment would be much lower by 2015 if you started earlier,” Mills said. “And 2020, there would be a huge savings. There is an increase in start-up costs, but with the costs of the drugs gradually dropping, more efficiencies in treatment, and a reduction in new infections, including pediatric infections, all those add up to fewer people on treatment” in a few years.
Mills said that in fighting AIDS, like other epidemics, “the real issue is when you turn off the tap,” referring to stopping the numbers of new infections. “When you have fewer and fewer new people getting infected every year, turning off the tap starts to happen,” she said.
Kayla Laserson, the director of KEMRI/CDC Research and Public Health Collaboration, said the AIDS research is part of a multi-pronged global health research agenda aimed at finding new drugs, vaccines, and diagnostic tools for a host of diseases. “We have the 052 trial here, but we also have the malaria vaccine trail, and the site for a TB vaccine trial, and many others,” she said. “We see how we make an enormous impact because the results from the community we serve are all around us.”
In the nearby village of Ematsayi, Peter Owiti Omotsi, 39, a father of five, is one of thousands of people in the region now on antiretroviral drugs to fight AIDS. He started treatment in 2008. His wife was HIV negative at the time of his diagnosis, and she has remained negative, he said. Omotsi said the drugs, plus changes to improve the nutrition in his diet, have made him much healthier.
“These drugs work,” he said. “I believe before I die, I will see my grandchildren. Without these drugs, that probably wouldn’t happen. But I have some years to live now. I can at least be proud of my grandchildren.”
In the months and years ahead, the U.S. government will need to make decisions on whether to expand AIDS treatment in the United States as well as around the world to people who are infected but are not acutely ill from the disease. No one is making any promises yet. But no one doubts either that the range of prevention approaches now available, taken together, create a new, powerful weapon to halt AIDS.
“In the last year or so, we have enough scientific advances so that we can start to see some significant turnarounds in the trajectory of the pandemic,” said Fauci, the longtime U.S. AIDS researcher. “But it’s not going to happen alone. We’re going to need a lot more host-country involvement, we’re going to need other donors, we’re going to need to be more efficient in what we do with the resources that we have. Now is a critical time in the history of the AIDS pandemic.”
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Recently, an elderly woman in Mississippi was left alone on the curb outside a hospital emergency room. The woman didn’t have a medical emergency. She’d been dumped by the nursing room employees who had learned that she had HIV, according to a lawyer at the Mississippi Center for Justice to whom she was eventually referred.
Mississippi’s neighbors have been known to thank God for Mississippi — when your state ranks 48th or 49th in just about every sad statistic about health or poverty in America, it’s nice to know you’ll always look better than someone. The state’s indicators for HIV and AIDS are about as horrific, although the 9,546 people in the state reported to have the virus probably aren’t particularly grateful about it.
The state has the highest new infection rate and greatest percentage of people living with HIV in the country, and by many measures, the least interest in helping them. Elsewhere, HIV/AIDS has become manageable with anti-retroviral therapy, but a Mississippian with HIV/AIDS is almost twice as likely to die than the average American with the virus; HIV-positive African-Americans in Mississippi are ten times as likely to die from it than their white neighbors. African-Americans are only 37.5 percent of the population, but represent 78 percent of new HIV infections. Meanwhile, an abstinence-education statute forbids even programs offering information about condoms to demonstrate how to use them, but does include a requirement to mention the anti-sodomy laws still on the books.
Combine racism and political indifference to poverty with homophobia — there’s been a rapid rise in infections among young men having sex with men in the state — and you’ve got a public health disaster that state politicians mostly ignore, or worse. ”I’ve been called a nigger and a faggot by state legislators right in the Capitol,” Alonzo Dukes, executive director of the Southern AIDS Commission in Greenville, Miss., told Human Rights Watch for a recent report. One of the few advocates for people living with HIV, state Rep. John Hines, says in the same report, “Legislators in Mississippi don’t see it as a public health crisis; they see it as a punishment for an unhealthy lifestyle.” The state contributes only $750,000 towards HIV/AIDS programs, out of a budget of $4.9 billion.
In other words, there’s very little to prevent employers and housing providers from discriminating against people with HIV, especially because the state doesn’t have any anti-discrimination laws and Mississippi also ranks 49th in funding civil legal services for the poor, according to the state’s Access to Justice Commission.
Even those who can afford a lawyer might have trouble. “I’ve heard stories of even lawyers turning clients away when they have AIDS,” says Marni von Wilpert, a fellow with the Mississippi Center for Justice. “People think they can get it from handshakes or hugs.”
Human Rights Watch also indicted the state for “punitive, stigmatizing, and discriminatory policies that undermine efforts to reach the population’s most vulnerable to HIV … leav[ing] people with HIV/AIDS without treatment at rates comparable to those in Botswana, Ethiopia, and Rwanda.” Advocates report hearing stories of public health officials showing up at workplaces and homes without any regard for confidentiality — terrifying in small rural communities where the stigma of HIV is brutalizing.
Robin Webb, executive director of A Brave New Day, which provides support services to people with HIV/AIDS, says this fans long-standing mistrust of government medical services in the African-American community going back to the Tuskegee syphilis studies. “The government actually plays out that whole Tuskegee scenario when it becomes a punitive force. The way they handle public health is all about authoritative punishment.” They are also terrified of what will happen to their lives if their infection is discovered. ”The No. 1 punishment is to kick people out of the church,” says Webb. “These are the people who talk about Jesus and the lepers.”
One MCJ client, admitted to the hospital for seizures, woke up to discover the doctor had informed a relative, in violation of medical privacy laws, that the patient had AIDS. ”People are not going to seek care if they think everyone in their family is going to find out,” says Von Wilpert. Meanwhile, Von Wilpert says, the state has chosen only to distribute free AIDS drugs at limited Department of Health locations. “People are traveling two or three counties over to even get the drugs,” she says — or not traveling at all.
The good news is that advocates believe they have an ally in the state’s new STD/HIV director, Nicholas Mosca. Von Wilpert and her colleagues are launching a new medical-legal partnership program, as well as an office in the hard-hit Delta region. Webb, who grew up in the Delta but lived in New York during the AIDS crisis and subsequent activism, says he’s trying to import that language of empowerment and self-management to his home state, and try to undo the shame and stigmatization. “I think most of us realize that diseases, especially lethal diseases, love secrets,” he said.
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