Tsholofelo (Hope)

Bontle, 17, is in her last year at a Senior Secondary School in a rural part of Botswana. There was a blood drive happening on her campus one day, so she was happy to donate blood to help her community, even though she’s squeamish about needles. They won’t use your blood if you’re HIV positive, but Bontle knows she’s negative since her boyfriend is faithful to her. Weeks later, after a series of tests were completed on the blood donations from the school, the officials had to dispose of nearly half of the blood. A lot of kids at this school don’t know they have HIV.

Gorata, 21, is livid with anger about what happened to her friend Kiana. Kiana was gang-raped by three men in her neighborhood. It was dark, so she couldn’t see their faces. The police aren’t helping to find the perpetrators, but in these small villages, word gets around fast. Gorata has discovered who the three young men are, and she knows at least one of them is HIV positive which means Kiana is now at risk. Gorata decided to take matters into her own hands. She is set on tracking down these men herself and killing them for what they did to her friend. After finding out where they live, she empties her bank account to buy a shotgun. Knocking on the door of the first young man, shotgun behind her back, she waits for a response. She is surprised when a very old woman opens the door in front of her. When Gorata inquires about the young man she has sought out to murder, she is told that he is the old woman’s grandson, her only living relative, who takes care of her. Sobered, Gorata forgets her plan, goes home and cries herself to sleep.

Taboka, 15, is sleeping with an older man. He’s 32, works in one of the diamond mines, and gives Taboka gifts, food and money in return for their relationship. Taboka learned about HIV and STIs in school, so she knows it’s important to wear a condom if she’s having sex, but she doesn’t. This man tells her he is negative, and she trusts him. Besides, he said he won’t pay her as much if she makes him wear protection. Her parents know about this relationship, and they do nothing to discourage it. Taboka is the breadwinner of the family.

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GBV (Gender-Based Violence) and gender inequality are two of the main driving forces of HIV in many developing and middle-income countries. In Botswana, AIDS has brought the average life expectancy down to 35. More than 50% of the population is under the age of 18. The youth of Botswana are the only hope for the future. Despite the high infection rates, many of them are HIV negative and plan to stay that way.

HIV/AIDS education in the country gets better every year, though the process of change is slow. Teachers often don’t understand the curriculum themselves and frequently give students information that is incomplete or simply inaccurate. Even when young people have the information, they don’t always use it. Many face situations where they aren’t empowered enough to protect themselves. But not all of them will have the same fate of Bontle, Kiana and Taboka.

However, this is the reality. These are real stories about real people in the communities where I work here in Botswana. These are my neighbors, the people I see at the grocery store, and the people I greet on my way to work. I’m no longer reading about it halfway around the globe, but I’m living in it. It’s a challenge hearing these stories, difficult knowing how few people have the right information on HIV, and painful to listen to the homophobia, sexism and other forms of hate and oppression that drive the epidemic here. But still, I feel motivated, and I’m trying to work as a part of the change. One of the things that keeps me going every day is GLOW.

GLOW (Guys and Girls Leading Our World) is a program that educates and empowers youth leaders to talk to their peers about HIV and GBV. Originally initiated by a Peace Corps Volunteer in Romania in 1995, a Peace Corps Volunteer in Botswana started the program here in 2005. A year later, WAR (Women and men Against Rape) agreed to adopt the program to help make it more sustainable. Several years later, it’s still closely tied to Peace Corps Volunteers, and it’s come a long way.

Every year, aspiring youth leaders from all over the country apply to be a part of the annual Camp GLOW that brings them together with local leaders from their own communities who serve as advisors to form local GLOW chapters. They spend a week together engaging in various camp activities, crafts, sports, etc., but mostly learning and engaging each other issues of HIV, GBV and how to be a leader and role model for their peers on these issues. After the Camp, they go back to their communities to form local GLOW chapters. Many of these chapters are continuing to thrive in different parts of Botswana.

A few weeks ago, we sent letters out to all of the GLOW Chapters and asked folks for to apply to be on an Organizing Committee to plan this year’s Camp. Several of the responses we’ve received so far give me hope for this country. One of the youth applicants writes:

“After the camp, we managed to change the behavior of many students in our school. We were able to talk to them about issues of concern in their lives like rape, pregnancy and HIV related issues. Not only amongst the club members but we had the opportunity of addressing the whole school.”

And another:

“Our goal after Camp GLOW was to empower the girls to be leaders. It was a success because a lot of them were chose as prefects at school and a lot were sometimes chose to represent our school in national events in issues concerning youth because they were informed, had better awareness and well-equipped on life skills.”
I see GLOW as a grassroots movement similar to some of the work I’ve done in the States. In this case, the constituents are youth, not the voters, but it’s much more than someone’s vote we’re trying to confirm or change. We’re trying to change behavior over the long-term. Our hope is that one-on-one conversation with their peers will help them do that. I also want to make the program much more sustainable by the locals here and less dependent on the Peace Corps.

Last week, Daphne and I went to a regional Camp GLOW that was organized by some people who attended last year’s national Camp. Daphne is also new to GLOW. She started volunteering in Youth Programming at WAR over a year ago and was hired as full-time staff a few months ago. She’s the person I work with the most, and one of my biggest goals is to continue developing her into a better leader. She’s already a fantastic person to work with, and we have a lot of fun working together I can tell by her comments after the presentation we did at the workshop that I’m getting somewhere.

“How do you think today went?” I asked her, honestly not sure how she felt about it.

“I was so impressed by you today,” she responded, a big smile wiping across her face. “You’re a genius!”

“Why’s that?” I said, chuckling.

“You had me in the palm of your hand, and I loved it. You’re making me love GLOW.”

“I’m so glad to hear that,” knowing if that’s how she felt, I must have been coaching her well, before and during our presentation together.

She went on, “You bring out this potential in me I didn’t even know I had… You’re gonna help me grow a lot.”

To know that I can help develop better leaders to do a better job of training others and fighting the epidemic here, that’s more important to me than anything.

I can vent about the horrendous work ethic that causes people to wander in and out of the office all day, only doing an hour or 2 of work. I can be frustrated by sitting in the 6-hour meetings, held entirely in Setswana, where I can only understand 10% of what’s going on, and therefore start daydreaming, only for someone to ask “are you with us?” It’s never been so difficult to pay attention and focus. And I can get angry. I’m angered by the ignorance and by the types of choices people make driven by the myriad bad situations people live with here.

But we can only do so much, granule by granule, brick by brick, so to know I’m getting somewhere, that’s what keeps me going.

As I write this, sitting in my house, listening to Jason Robert Brown on my iTunes, and chocolate croissants baking in the oven, Mami and Sego are playing on my front porch. When I look at their little three-year-old faces and big brown eyes, I think about Bontle, Gorata and Taboka. I think about them, and I hope these little ones have the opportunity to live their adolescent and adult lives in a Botswana that is different from what it is today.

Life is beautiful.