The Master's Tools

The prevalence of HIV/AIDS in South Africa is alarming. While a few people close to me are HIV+, and I somewhat consider myself a queer health and sex educator, I've never been in a space full of so many HIV+ children. We visited a community project that provides meals, services, and a space to HIV+ children, many of whom are either orphans or in the foster system because their parents have died. The project was headed by a mix of people including local community folks and two Americans.

As soon as we entered the church where the center is currently operating out of, a few of the children climbed up a few of our waists, some what begging to be held. We tried to hoola-hoop a bit and then the children were told to go outside and play. We did not know they were all HIV+ until one of the staff members, one of the American women who work there, began to explain the project to us. My immediate thought was, wow. How can so many children be HIV+ in a relatively small area? Wouldn't anyone who knows they're positive want to do everything in their power to ensure their children aren't? Aren't prenatal drugs that can be taken to prevent transmission from mother to child available everywhere?

Well the answer is, no they're not. Healthcare and health education are not so readily available or financially accessible. I have to admit, I was angry. Not at anyone in particular, but at all the broken systems that had lead up to this situation. I tried to focus on the positive aspects of the project. The participants are given whole meals every weekday and taken on different trips. The younger children have a group of people roughly their age to play with everyday. But the teenagers were distant and stayed indoors. I wondered if the program was to provide a safe space for HIV+ youth, or to keep them away from others. The gates surrounding the gravel playground took on a malicious connotation.

The fact that it was in a church also stirred up some emotions. Faith and religion are powerful forces. I know many turn to G-d in times of tribulations, but G-d also makes folks think about mortality. The white cross in the front of the bare playroom seemed to be a constant reminder that we are all never too far from meeting our maker. I honestly still don't know how to feel about the project.

Speaking of church, I was talking with a fellow student about how to spend our free day. There were a few options presented to us including a visit to a church. This fellow student stated that she wouldn't go to a church and that they represented colonialism. I paused. While I've certainly learned that Christian missionaries were unofficially used as a tool of colonists, when does an institution move beyond its roots?

While churches were often used to both convert and educate colonized peoples, churches during Apartheid were the hubs of radical social change. Sermons were used for both uplifting and mobilizing. When hundreds were being beaten and killed around you, faith and prayer must have been sources of strength.

And although I have a somewhat incredulous opinion on religion and its roots (especially missionaries in Africa), I can not deny that it has helped millions of people survive their day to day lives. What ever I believe in, church is an undeniable staple in many communities. A tool once used for conquering now used for empowerment. When does a colonial institution succumb to cultural power, and how beautiful is that? It seems that for this instance, the master's tools did dismantle the master's house.

(On a side note, one of the little girls from the project asked me if I was colored. More on this later!)