Host: Dan Kennedy
Dan: [00:00:02] Welcome to The Moth Podcast. I'm Dan Kennedy. And this week, we wanted to give our attention to recognizing an important date here on the podcast, World AIDS Day, which took place on December 1st. So, today, we're going to focus on two stories that were shared at our first ever Mainstage show in Johannesburg, South Africa.
Our first story is from Hail Mary. Here's Mary.
[applause]
Mary: [00:00:32] The year is 2002. The month is November. I've been feeling ill for the better part of the month and decide to seek medical counsel. I am diagnosed with bronchopneumonia. And the doctor intimates that I need to get my blood drawn for further tests. He gives me a prescription, I take the medicine and after one week I'm back in his clinic for the results. He motions me to the chair and tells me to sit down. "Mary, you don't have hepatitis, you don't have cancer. Your titers are low and you don't have typhoid, but you are HIV positive."
I am dumbfounded. If somebody had plunged a dagger into my heart, I would not have felt pain as excruciating as the pain that I was feeling right at this moment. “My doctor, I screamed at him silently, "You have metamorphosed into my judge, my jury and my executioner. And you have handed me my death sentence." A curtain of rage comes over my eyes. I want to strangle him. From afar I hear his mumbo jumbo of, "There are treatments available. You're going to live."
I spin out of the room, rush to the door and out into the corridor. I'm so sad, so devastated, so angry, so heartbroken. I raced down the stairs, tears blinding my eyes, crossed to the exit dash across the pavement and into the fast-moving traffic. I hear the screech of tortured tires and the driver hurled insults at me. I do not even wait to react. I can't believe it. A few years earlier, I had survived a mugging. And more recently, I had survived a bout of typhoid. But this, this revelation was too much for me to bear. How was I going to survive this?
I suddenly remember I need to tell Lydia, my friend, my news. I stumbled to a telephone booth, call her and tell her, "I need to tell you something. And when you hear what I've got to say, you will never see me again." We agree to meet in a restaurant. I go towards the restaurant, I find her waiting for me and I sit down. In a shaken whisper, I tell her what the doctor has just told me. She looks surprised and tells me, "Mary, there is life to be lived. All will be well."
I'm taken aback and I wonder for a moment. Is she telling me all this because she's concerned about me, or does she know more about HIV and AIDS, a condition which at this time is still shrouded in mystery, that has so much shame and stigma attached to it? I'm lost in my thoughts, and I hear the gentle pressure of her hands on my wrists, urging me and telling me that we must go to her house, because she fears what I will do. I shake my head vehemently and tell her, "No, I'm not going anywhere with you. I'm going to end my life." She tells me, "No, you're coming home with me."
We go to her house. That night is the longest, most harrowing night I've ever lived through. It's so, so, so sad and it's so strange how the darkness can make a situation seem ten times as tragic as it is. Morning comes, and I decide to go to another health facility to seek a second opinion. Here, at least, I receive the counseling. But alas, the results are still the same. The next seven months are the longest months that I have ever lived through. The days are long. They are gray. I feel hopeless and useless. I don't want to do anything. I even attempt suicide and I become a former shadow of myself.
Lydia still offers her love and support. But in my heart of hearts, I still feel there are two more people who need to know about my situation, my mummy and my daddy. Ladies and gentlemen, do not even imagine for a minute that I did not feel trepidation at the thought of going to break the news to these two people. What would they think of me? Would they feel that I had let them down somehow? Would my news shatter them and probably eventually destroy them? But I'm convinced that I need to tell them.
One cold afternoon in June 2003, I set out for Nakuru, where my parents reside. I meet my mother and greet her. On closer inspection, she asks me, "My daughter, what's wrong with you? You don't look your usual cheerful self." To which I respond, "Mummy, I feel I'm not very well." She tells me, "No. How can you tell me this? And you've just traveled all the way from Nairobi down here to Nakuru to see us." I tell her I don't feel very well. She asks me, "My daughter, do you have cancer?" I say, "No." "Do you have hepatitis?" I say, "No, Mommy.” “Do you have HIV?" I say, "Yes."
She's taken aback and asks me, "Do you want me to call this man that you've been seeing and give him a piece of my mind?" I tell her, "No, Mum, do not. God will avenge him for us." Later on, my dad comes home and I tell him my news. It baffles me up to this day that I start with weeping and crying when telling him about my status. He takes my hands and tells me, "Mary, we love you. We are going to support you. HIV is not a commodity that you went to the drugstore to buy, that you went to a supermarket to buy. We will love you, and we will encourage you with all that we have."
And they have. They walked with me from that point on to this day, they continue to walk with me. I swam from the murky depths of that river slowly, slowly up to the surface. And I regained in me a courage and a fortitude to continue with my life. I still live with my uninvited guest, my friend, who has decided to stay with me and never leave. Ladies and gentlemen, isn't it amazing how the power of love can lift you from one level to another? Thank you.
[cheers and applause]
Dan: [00:09:22] Hail Mary is a Moth Global community alum living in Nairobi, and working in the field of HIV prevention.
Our next storyteller is never far removed from HIV positive people. In fact, she feels it's very important for her that she stays connected and close to them.
[cheers and applause]
Here's a story from Gethwana Mahlase.
Gethwana: [00:09:50] I come from an area just outside of Pietermaritzburg. It is one of the areas that are highly burdened with HIV and AIDS. And so, the scientists often refer to it as the epicenter, or the hub or the hot spots of HIV. I personally have lost many friends, family members and neighbors through this epidemic, but there is this one friend who lost a wife three months after they got married and they have not even had a chance to view their wedding video when the wife passed.
I remember when I visited him, I remember very well the pain, the sorrow and the sadness in his face. It was almost palpable. It was at that moment that I committed myself to work in the HIV field for the rest of my life. And so, in 1994, when I was contacted by an NGO to go and work in their KZN office, I did not hesitate. I just grabbed the opportunity with both hands. And for me, it was like a sign from God that I'd made a correct choice to work in the HIV field. But I needed to consult with my friends. I told them that I'm going to work in the HIV field, in the NGO, who they slashed me. They told me all sorts of nasty stories about NGOs. “NGOs have a bleak future. NGOs have no money. NGOs are dependent on donations. If there are no donations, the employees do not get paid.” [audience laughter]
And then, suddenly, I thought about my comfortable job. I am a nurse by profession and I was training nurses to be experts in HIV and treating all sexually transmitted infections. And also, I was teaching nurses to be experts in family planning. I had a huge office, because I was a trainer. It had an aircon. I had a car, I had an attractive pension package, I also had a revolving chair. [audience laughter]
So, when my friends told me about this life of the NGO, I thought twice. But somehow an inner voice within me told me, "It is the right choice." So, I went to the new job. I enjoyed it. I did it with passion. It felt like I had finally arrived. And in Michael Jackson's language, it felt like, "This is it." [audience chuckles] And then, three months down the line, there was a meeting in the head office. It was said 15 people are going to be retrenched, because there is no money. [audience chuckles]
They clearly stated that the principle of last in, first out will apply. So, unavoidably and sadly, I was out. I was shocked, I was devastated and suddenly, all the voices from my friends flooded my mind, “NGOs have no future,” blah, blah, blah. I decided to keep quiet. I did not want to tell anybody about what had just happened. And then, after a week, I decided to talk to myself, as I normally do if I am frustrated and I need a quick answer. [audience laughter] " Gethwana, woman, wake up. You are unemployed, you have no job, come month end, there will be no salary and the bills are piling up."
And then, of course, the answers came to my mind. "Gethwana, the easiest, just go back to nursing. You will not get that office back, but you still have a job." And then, the second option was to do the unthinkable. Establish a new NGO. And then, when I thought about that, something said, "I must be crazy. You've just been retrenched from an organization, [audience chuckles] because there was no fund. And now, you want to start a new NGO?" Somehow, I could not resist it and I decided, I'm going to open a new NGO.
[cheers and applause]
At that moment, people, everybody was flooded with the same messages. Abstain, be faithful. What else? Condomize. Gosh, you're talking to everybody, talking to the priest, you're talking to the reverend, "Abstain." You're talking to a 50-year-old, "Abstain." You're talking to a married man, "Be faithful," and so on and so on. So, I knew that my organization was going to be different, because we were going to have strategies to address different target groups with specific messages which they could all relate to.
And therefore, now the problem is I did not know how and where to register a new NGO. I had absolutely no clue how to prepare a funding proposal to ask for money. And even if I can prepare that funding proposal, I did not know who to send it to ask for money. [audience chuckles] But worst of all, I had no office, no equipment, no computer, no chair, nothing. [audience laughter] But I had something very powerful. I had the vision, I had the will and I had the passion.
And so, I decided to visit a couple of NGOs to get a few tips. Oh my gosh, I discovered it is a hostile world. [audience chuckles] Nobody wanted to tell me who their donors are. [audience laughter] And all of a sudden, nobody knew how to register NGO [audience laughter] because the founder is not on duty, so they do not know how to register an organization those that were present.
And then, I thought of a friend who had served for a long time as a director in some of the organizations. And I promise you that was the best decision. Because after a month, I had been able to submit a few proposals. I won't tell you to who, [audience laughter] but I had submitted a couple of proposals. I had two weapons in those proposals. The first weapon, I managed to collect letters from the organization where I had previously volunteered my services, from the traditional leaders, where I was going to operate from the religious people who indeed confirmed that the communities and the families needed an NGO, so that they can cope.
But I also had a very powerful tool. I had a photo which I had taken in the Union Buildings with the then most amazing, most wonderful, most charismatic president, Dr. Nelson Rolihlahla Mandela. [audience cheers and applause]
And I put this photo in my portfolio [audience laughter] just to show people that I'm not a fly-by-night, [audience laughter] and also that they do not take my proposal for granted. And then, the waiting began. One week, one month, no responses, [audience chuckles] no letter, no phone, nothing. Two months, three months and then a phone call. "Gethwana, that funding proposal that you submitted to the Department of Health has been approved. [audience cheers and applause]
And you need to organize a handing over ceremony for the next two weeks. The embassy will be there and you will be the guest speaker." [audience chuckles] All I could say was, "Okay." [audience laughter] I've never received such a call before, so I didn't know how to respond. I was afraid that if I become overexcited, this woman might just say, "I'm withdrawing this fund." [audience laughter] So, now, this was another challenge for me, organize a handing over ceremony. What's that? [audience laughter]
And with the help of friends within two weeks, everything was done. I remember entering the venue which was beautifully decorated, just like one of those venues that you see in the My Perfect Wedding television show. [audience laughter] Already there were about 150 people. Many things were said, I don't remember any of them. [audience laughter] But I remember very well when the MEC called my name and said, "Gethwana, Come receive the check for your organization."
I also remember walking slowly up the staircases towards the stage. It was at that moment, just that moment, when I realized that the strength within me is much more powerful than all the challenges that I was facing at the time. And it is the same strength that is still sustaining me today, 22 years down the line, I am still standing.
[cheers and applause]
Dan: [00:21:47] Gethwana Mahlase is a nurse and currently works for the NGO that she founded in 1995. She also works as a consultant for many other NGOs. Gethwana is currently writing a book of stories from grandmothers who lost all or almost all of their children to HIV.
That's all for this week. Thanks to all of you for listening. And from all of us here at The Moth in New York, we hope you have a story-worthy week.
Mooj: [00:22:15] Dan Kennedy is the author of the books, Loser Goes First, Rock On and American Spirit. He's also a regular host and performer with The Moth.
Dan: [00:22:25] Podcast production by Timothy Lou Ly, with help from Viki Merrick. Moth events are recorded by Argot Studios in New York City, supervised by Paul Ruest. The Moth Podcast is presented by PRX, the Public Radio Exchange, helping make public radio more public at prx.org.