In South Africa’s KwaZulu-Natal province, a train wound its way through the undulating hills. On board, six young people with HIV or Aids, along with celebrities from local soap operas, television and radio were doing their bit to raise Aids awareness.
In Johannesburg, a set of new and colourful bill boards captured the attention of a diverse audience. The images they carried conveyed the importance of self-esteem, dignity and empowerment.
In the Western Cape province, in one evening, over a thousand calls requesting help with relationships, sex and HIV were taken on a hotline.
As the fanfare that surrounded World Aids Day on December 1 died down, ”loveLife” — a programme to staunch the rate of HIV infection among young South Africans — was preparing to do battle with Aids for another year.
In the country with the highest number of people infected with HIV in the world, loveLife was one example of something that appeared to be working in the fight against Aids — an attempt to escape the hand-wringing that can characterise debate about the pandemic.
LoveLife appeared in 1999 with a high-profile launch and a sustained media campaign that piqued the curiosity of the nation. Its billboards typically featured post-modern designs in bright colours that depicted the pieces of a jigsaw, or single images with cryptically clever questions. In one, a bunch of funereal flowers was backed by the question: ”Which of your lovers decided your future?”
Too eclectic for some, loveLife nevertheless managed to insert itself into the popular consciousness.
Four years later ”it enjoys very high levels of association,” said chief executive David Harrison. Surveys showed that eight in 10 youths had heard of it, while over 85% identified ”very strongly” with its messages.
Yet loveLife escapes easy categorisation: it could not be viewed as a ”project”, a ”plan”, a ”policy” or any of the ”p’s” to be found in the world of HIV and Aids prevention. It had positioned itself as a ”brand”.
Why?
”Our starting point was trying to understand where young people were at, post-1994 (the date of South Africa’s first democratic election). And we found that, after a massive electrification programme, there was a huge increment in exposure to television,” said Harrison.
”For example, we’ve found that 74% of youth have access to a TV, while nine in 10 watch television three or more times a week.”
This exposure prompted young people to aspire to certain glamorous and ”cool” lifestyles, said Harrison, as well as the idea that owning products with well-known brand names was a way of appropriating these lifestyles.
LoveLife followed this trend by adopting a hip and colourful image — a ”brand”.
Critics said the messages might work for urban youth, but could be lost on rural youngsters, a point Harrison disputed: ”There is no difference in aspiration. Rural young people are very aware and brand-sussed.”
LoveLife initially focused on billboards, but now publishes youth news supplements in newspapers with wide circulation.
It ran adolescent-friendly clinics where staff were trained to assist teenagers. The loveLife hotlines also logged well over two million calls in 2002 (figures for 2003 are not in yet), indicating that the plan had achieved a wide foot-print.
Patrons included former president Nelson Mandela, Archbishop Desmond Tutu and popular politician Patricia de Lille. These people had joined others in fronting a campaign for parents, urging them to ”love them enough to talk about it” — the ”it” being sex.
One reason for early childhood pregnancies and for coercive sex is young people not receiving any form of sexual education.
LoveLife staff believed that the three keys to reversing the rate of infection amongst young people were to get them to delay their first sexual experience, to reduce the number of sexual partners they had, and to encourage sexuality within committed
relationships.
It is impossible, said Harrison, to assess accurately the impact that loveLife may be having on the national HIV prevalence.
But, ”The really important thing is that there is a massive opportunity to change the course of the infection,” he said.
”Virtually none of this generation of 14-year-olds are infected,” said Harrison, adding that keeping them that way was the key to ”turning the tap off on the epidemic.” – Sapa-IPS