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."

If only it were a koala

I think there's a rat in my room. I can't be sure. But it's either that or a monster lives under my bed.
Patricia, 13, Me and Doris (our OB) explain how HIV affects the body´s defenses during an HIV educational session with a group of adolescentes.

Condom relay race during the same educational session, where teens had to correctly place and remove a condom on a banana. Not surprisingly, it was a lot of fun.



PEPFAR

This year Peace Corps was given a $25,000 PEPFAR grant to implement HIV prevention programs in Northern Peru. Tumbes, having the highest percentage of HIV cases in Peru, is one of the three departments taking part.

PC volunteers and community leaders came to Tumbes for a 2 1/2-day workshop on HIV and HIV prevention. Each PC volunteer formed a team from their communities consisting of a member of the health post staff, a representative from the municipality, a teacher from the local school and a health promoter or teen. The idea was that at the end of the workshop, each team formed a work plan for 2009 to implement in their districts.

With me came an OB from my health post, the energetic lieutenant mayor of the district, a quirky middle school teacher and a health promoter that's ALSO, coincidentally, a teen. Every one of them was excited to start with the project and active throughout the workshop.

The conference gave us some sobering statistics. The numbers in Tumbes, despite its small, mostly rural population, are increasing rapidly — reaching, for the first time last year, to endemic proportions (over 1% of the population). In some vulnerable groups, such as sex workers and MSMs, over 10% of its population has HIV.

What's perhaps more disturbing is the high level of youth affected. Over 50% of new cases every year are young people under the age of 25.

So, what do we do? Discussing different activities and methodologies was a big part of the conference and sparked the enthusiasm and vigor of a lot of the participants. A Uruguayan doctor came perhaps more to motivate than to educate our groups, with (in true Peace Corps fashion) interactive activities instead of dry Powerpoint.

The results were overwhelmingly positive. At the end of the conference, our Peruvian counterparts were ready with a long list of ideas of things to implement in their community.

In Pampas, our plan is to form a special committee specifically in charge of HIV prevention, consisting of at least two representatives from each of the base organizations (municipality, school, health post, etc.), two additional youth, and me representing Peace Corps.

Replicate workshops are planned for local authorities and leaders (including churches), parents and teachers. We'll do radio spots, marches, movie nights and propaganda campaigns, as well as youth dances, talent contests, murals and health fairs.

We're also going to see if it's possible to provide rapid AIDS testing for a large chunk of our population.

Of course, this is what we've planned on paper. The actual logistics of how it will all work out is dependent on the special committee. But Pampas is fertile ground. People are interested, service providers are enthusiastic, and the ganas to move forward is definitely there.

So, here we go.

Fanmail

Dear Makers, Producers, Cast and Crew of NBC's The Office,

I want to express my sincerest thanks and gratitude for the joy you have brought into my life.

When the rooster outside my door wakes me up at 6 a.m., I find cheer in Dwight's extensive knowledge of soils and bears.

When the craving for a mouth-watering cheese burger overtakes my senses to the brink of madness, I find contentment in the finer things.

When I spend an hour and a half on a Monday morning waiting for the mayor — only for him to tell me that he was late because he "felt like taking a swim in the river" — I find serenity in Angela's temperance.

When it's so hot outside that I can do nothing but lie spread-eagle on my oven-hot straw mattress, I find comfort in office supplies encased in wobbly green Jell-o.

And when I accidentally tell someone that I'm aroused sexually instead of emotionally stimulated, I find repose in Michael's fearless ignorance and candor.

You have given me a reliable cure for the semi-constant homesickness I find here. Each 23-minute episode a tiny slice of joie de vivre. And for that, from the depths of my heart, I thank you.

Sincerely,
Robyn