Hot potatoes and condom races

So, I went with Maria, one of our OBs , to give an educational session to a group of teachers and parents in a nearby community. Maria was going to take the lead presenting the STI portion, and then I presented information about HIV.

It started well, I thought. Albeit my Spanish wasn't flawless. Five minutes in, however, I had no doubt whatsoever that I preferred working with youth.

We were playing a game — "Papa caliente" (hot potato) — where there's a ball of paper, and each person who catches it had to peel off one layer and read the statement on the sheet. Then, they had to say True or False and give their reasoning.

"Homosexuals have a greater probability of contracting HIV," one sheet read.

Absolutely not, right? Everyone's chances are equal.

"Of course they do!" called out one teacher in the back of the room. "They're promiscuous and engage in risky behaviors more frequently that heterosexuals."

"That's not true of all homosexuals," I said. "That's a stereotype. There are plenty who do not and plenty of heterosexuals who do."

No, he argued. "It says 'greater probability', and they definitely have a greater probability because of their lifestyle."

Another teacher piped in: "No, it's false. Everyone has an equal chance of getting HIV."

"Exactly," I said. "The statement could have easily said 'whites' or 'rich people'. HIV doesn't care what you look like, how much money you have or your sexual orientation — everyone is at equal risk if they engage in unsafe sexual activities."

The first teacher huffed and said "You're wrong. I'm right."

I moved on.

Later, the inevitable question arose from the same skeptical man in the back. "Can you contract HIV from a public bathroom or toilet seat?"

"No, you can't," I said. "The virus can only live for seconds in the air, and it's unlikely you would place your genitals directly on fluids containing the virus."

"Unlikely?" he said. "So it's possible."

Shoot.

He posed an example: "Let's say that I have HIV, and I jack off in the bathroom, spilling a little semen on the toilet. Immediately afterward, my daughter comes in and sits right on the semen. Will she get it?"

Maria steps in to save me. "It's a myth. You cannot contract HIV from a toilet seat."

"But what about other STIs that are from bacteria?" he asked.

Moving on ...

The session climaxed (no pun intended) with a condom relay. I had done the activity two weeks before with a group of teens, and it went really well.

"I know it's uncomfortable and awkward," I said, "but you have to learn to do this, so that when teens ask for help, you can tell him or her how to protect themselves."

So I demonstrated with a yellow banana. And then asked them to form teams.

Some started too early. Some unwrapped their condoms first. Some refused to participate.

But really it didn't matter anyway because the bananas exploded.

All over my hands.

"This is why the penis always needs to be erect when putting on and taking off a condom!" I joked.

*Cough* moving on ...

We decided instead to do an activity where one person gives an excuse not to use a condom, and someone else refutes it.

It was actually going really well. That is, until ...

"I don't want to use a condom because they're too small for me," one man called out.

Ah-ha! I'd seen it done so many times before. I thought I could do it, too.

I unwrapped the condom — a cocky "you just wait and watch" expression on my face — and pulled it over my fingers and down to my elbow when ... it ripped. The freakin' condom broke.

"Whoops!" I said, trying to laugh it off. "That's not supposed to happen!" I hurriedly pulled it off my arm and grabbed another.

You wouldn't believe it, but the second one ripped, too.

Oh, but it gets worse.

I cried.

Yup, I cried. I finished off the session with a speech about the high prevalence of HIV in Tumbes, the risk the young people were in, the need for everyone to see it as a social issue not just a health issue. I called out for their support so that Tumbes 10 years from now won't resemble the tragic situation of some African nations — where children are being raised by grandparents, and whole cities are devastated by an entire generation dying away.

And in the height of my fervor, I lost it.

I mean, I didn't weep or anything like that. But my voice cracked, and I got a little teary-eyed, and some people actually started laughing.

*Sigh* oh well. There is a silver lining though (isn't there always?). After my session was over, a psychologist came in to talk about life skills, and one woman left after 10 minutes.

"I'm bored," she said. "I want to talk to you more about this AIDS thing."