World AIDS Day

Today is World AIDS Day. Many will remember when AIDS raised its deadly head in the early Eighties. It was the dark ages of ignorance and astonishing bigotry. The tabloids pandered to the pond life with talk of a gay plague, the British Government terrified old ladies with images of tomb stones and people really did think you could catch it from a coffee cup. It took Princess Diana (among many others) and a seismic shift in social attitudes to make a difference. I was one of the lucky ones. I survived when many around me were dropping like flies.

These days we live in more enlightened times. Or do we? It depresses me that many young gay men in Britain and elsewhere think HIV is an ‘old man’s’ disease and even if they do become infected they think a pill a day will keep the doctor away. It’s true that in the West people generally live with HIV rather than die from it. But, AIDS isn’t hypertension or high cholesterol. Just like flu, HIV is a virus that mutates. The drugs that work today may not work tomorrow. Still, we should count our blessings. AIDS is still devastating many developing countries, particularly in Sub-Saharan Africa where access to expensive combination therapy is pie in the sky. AIDS affects the most sexually active and the most sexually active are also the most economically active. It’s a double whammy, more destructive than war or famine.

The rate of HIV infection in Turkey is mercifully low (according to official statistics) but with a long incubation period who really knows? Education is the key to prevention but meaningful sex education is thin on the ground here. Last year the Turkish Daily News published an article on the subject. It seems people don’t like to talk about the issue. It goes against the cultural grain. The common condom is not so common because nobody has extra-marital sex and adultery never happens. Head and sand spring to mind. And what of the legion of Shirley Valentines washed up on our shores every summer who fall for the considerable charms of the hunky waiter with the come to bed eyes? Listen up ladies, slip the French letters into your sequined clutch bag and get your man to cover up.

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