The Chaos Within - Bidar

Just back from a couple of days in Bidar, in the state of Karnataka.

DISHA was invited there by Velmegnar Hospital to conduct an HIV/AIDS training and awareness programmes. Velmegnar intends to begin a grassroots HIV/AIDS project, and through Link Overseas Exchange, an organisation in Scotland that sends us volunteers, a link between Bidar and Pune is in the forge.
The training session was for the local pastors. Velmegnar has a strong Christian ethos, and runs a theological school for trainee rural pastors. Being an HIV Positive church is not so much a choice, as a need in this region.

HIV/AIDS works in noisy silence. Ignorance screams and fear whispers in people's ears.

I had met these young and not so young independent church leaders in August last year when I visited Velmegnar and the Link volunteers there, and also conducted an informal session on HIV/AIDS. They are an enthusiastic group, and appear committed to their congregations. Almost all of them have seen HIV/AIDS and its sycophants - ignorance, fear, stigma - at work. They know that the 'faith and works' of the book of James must now be put into practice... not only will faith die without works, so will life.

On day 2 we visited the town of Basavakalyan. This is a couple of hours drive from Bidar. It is supposed to be home to one of the largest truck stops in India. Truck or lorry drivers in India are often considered to be the 'carriers' and 'spreaders' of HIV/AIDS up and down and across the subcontinent. They are Aaron's scapegoats for a nation that struggles to contain their ignorance and fear.

consciousness of the 'other' helps.

"Those people are responsible."

The 'those people' often come in multiple shapes, sizes, and smells. Not to mention creeds, castes, and colours.
Truck drivers must not be stigmatised. They have to be approached - so do other high risk groups - not ignored and vilified.

Velmegnar hospital afforded DISHA a great opportunity. The team was at their best. I have never seen them work the crowd around them so well. Avinash was magnificent, so was Lata and Santosh, and everybody contributed to an extremely successful session.

It was a beginning. Basavakalyan had never seen anything like it before. We set up in the equivalent of their town centre. The traffic halted, and was diverted by the local police who turned out to support the initiative. The team had learnt songs in Kannada to engage the town. But it was a melting pot - it would be! - Hindi, Marathi, and Telegu, along with English, it all came in use.

By the time we finished... when the last line of the street play was said,when the lubricant from the condoms were washed off our hands - when I requested a volunteer to demonstrate the use of a condom, this rather inebriated man walked up, and suddenly I thought we were going to have a 'live one' lose! All I needed was for him to hold up two fingers. - when the posters were taken down and banners rolled away, all I could think was how wonderful it is to work with such committed group of people.

Of course, two days of travelling, eating and sleeping together - the girls were housed in a converted hospital ward, and the boys in a smaller ward for contagious diseases! - afforded me insights that I would have never otherwise had.

They are naughtier than I had thought. They can be rude... and extremely lude. They are noisy... the slumbering carriage was awoken with much laughter and argument as they fought over which berths they would occupy. Incessant shushing had no effect. They are human, all too human. And they are not afraid to show it. They are courage.

On the evening of the second day we visited the 14th century fort that Bidar is famous for. In the midst of the ruins and forgotten grandeur my team danced and sang and posed for pictures. I also thought them a few lines from one of my favourite songs...

Yes, you guessed it - "Ground control to Major Tom..."

And as the sun went down they formed their circle of song and their voices, hoarse but strong, reached out to touch the night.