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From the Web, one of his spokespeople, Tasneem Carrim, told the Johannesburg Sunday Independent. Mbeki's office denied it, but what Carrim said had the ring of guileless truth: "The president goes into the Net all the time," she was quoted as saying. Activists had hoped that Mbeki's new health minister, Manto Tshabalala-Msimang, would correct him, but to their dismay she has staunchly supported him.
In the township near Carletonville, the percentage of 25-year-old women infected with HIV is a shocking 60 percent. Most of these women will probably get pregnant. "Why not give a chance to have a baby that is not HIV-positive?" asks Mzaidume. Then she says, bitterly, "It doesn't matter how many presentations doctors make, if politicians don't want it, it will not be." Mbeki did not respond to requests for an interview by the Voice.
Because there is scant medical evidence to support Mbeki's opposition to AZT, many South Africans are casting about for what might have motivated him. Perhaps years in the struggle against apartheid imbued him with mistrust of powerful white corporations, such as pharmaceutical companies. Maybe, too, it instilled a stubbornness that won't allow him to admit he erred. But since Mbeki's specialty is economics, much of the speculation has gravitated in that direction.
The popular notion that apartheid was overthrown by the ANC is only part of the truth. What also happened is that the apartheid economy collapsed. Treating workers as wholly expendable was fine when industry needed mainly unskilled labor. But as technological advancements demanded educated, stable workers, apartheid's migrant labor system backfired, as did the policy of giving blacks only rudimentary education. "If those stupid fools had just decided to train 100 black engineers a year," says Aggrey Klaaste, publisher of the Sowetan newspaper, "this country would be phenomenal."
But the country was anything but phenomenal when the ANC took power. GDP was actually shrinking. Inflation was running above 15 percent. Capital was fleeing the country. And wasteful spending on police and defense, required to fight an ever bolder black resistance, had burdened the country with a large debt.
Despite being raised by communist parents, Mbeki has charted an aggressively capitalist course. Even though it burdens the economy, he is reassuring international investors by stoically paying off the apartheid-era debt. He has imposed a strict fiscal discipline to accommodate world financial institutions such as the International Monetary Fund. While such policies may boost South Africa in the long run, they have left the government strapped for cashand AIDS drugs are expensive. "They're terrified of starting down the slippery slope of treatment," says Achmat, "because they think it will cost too much."
That certainly would be true if the government subsidized the costly drug cocktails that have reduced American AIDS deaths. But there is a middle ground. Some of the opportunistic illnesses that kill people with AIDS can be prevented by taking relatively cheap prophylactic drugs. The reason the government isn't providing such drugs is that it isn't being pushed by "a treatment-literate HIV population that knows its rights," says Achmat. "The level of understanding here is vastly different than in Europe and North America." At the start of the Treatment Action Campaign, he recalls, people thought AZT was a political party.
That is beginning to change, largely because activists have pushed the issue into the media. Two powerful unions have thrown their weight behind the Treatment Action Campaign, and science itself is pushing the government. There is a new drug, nevirapine, which seems to prevent mother-to-child transmission as effectively as AZT, and at a much cheaper cost. It's being studied in South Africa, and the results of that trial are scheduled for release at the huge World AIDS Conference to be held next year in Durban. It will become harder and harder for the government not to act.
Already a groundswell is apparent. People with HIV are more and more visible. Makhalemele, for example, is back from her five-month retreat and cohosting Beat It!, a national television show on how to live with HIV. On World AIDS Day this month, she says, the media was "full of AIDS faces." One of them is the Sowetan's Lucky Mazibuko, the country's first openly HIV-positive columnist. He lives in the township and has become a magnet for people who need someone to talk with. Recently he got a letter that shows how attitudes are changing.
"The letter was from an elderly woman saying she had a son who was HIV-positive, but she had rejected him, chucked him out of house. Now, she was working as a domestic for a white family, and her employer's daughter turned out to be HIV-positive. So as part of her job she has to take care of their daughterand she only saw her son when he was buried."
In a country with at least 3.6 million infected, an old African proverb has new relevance: "Something with horns cannot be hidden." The sick and dead are forcing South Africans to confront the disease, themselves, and their brutal history.
Research intern: Jason Schwartzberg
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