Thai Buddhist Temple help AIDS Patients
FRED DE SAM LAZARO: Many Buddhist temples are tourist attractions in
Thailand. But this one, tucked away in a hillside north of Bangkok, is unusual.
It was built a decade ago to be a hospice, a place where AIDS patients come to
die with dignity. There are about 300 beds here, a fraction of the demand. But
thousands of tourists, most of them Thai, come through each week. They meet and
take pictures with AIDS patients; view the stark crematory and bone room, where
the bones and ashes of patients lie in piles thousands high; and the
after-death room, a macabre display that more befits a pathology museum. In
fact, tourist donations sustain this facility, and the founding monk says it
helps sensitize the public to the AIDS problem and educates school kids, who
arrive by the busload.
PHRA ALONGKOT DIKKAPANYO: If they can see for
themselves, not only listen or look at the pictures, they can understand
easily. And it is a good way of education in our country.
FRED DE SAM LAZARO: Thailand has long been in the
vanguard in tackling AIDS. It was the first Asian country to suffer an epidemic
centered around another enduring tourist attraction: The commercial sex trade,
which caters both to Thai and foreign tourists. Thailand had a quick response
when AIDS hit in the early '90s. Not with money or health services, but with
its highly successful family-planning program. It had popularized one of the
most effective weapons in AIDS prevention: The condom. The campaign was led by
Mechai Viravaidya, a politician from a prominent family, economist by training,
but best known as Thailand's "Condom King." We first interviewed him
last year.
MECHAI VIRAVAIDYA: We said, "Look, one must
not be embarrassed by a condom. It's just from a rubber tree, like a tennis
ball. If you're embarrassed by a condom, you must be more embarrassed by the
tennis ball. There's more rubber in it." We said, "You could use it
as a balloon, as a tourniquet for snake bites and deep cuts, you can use the
lubrication for after-shave lotion, and use the ring of the condom as a hair
band. What a wonderful product. Why be embarrassed by it?" So we gave them
out all over, and said, "Look, the condom is clean in your mind, it is not
dirty. So please, take one."
FRED DE SAM LAZARO: Viavaidya took his case early
to monasteries and monks. Surveys shored they where the most influential
people, especially in rural areas of this predominantly Buddhist nation of 60
million. Leading scholars were asked to develop a structural basis for the
campaign.
MECHAI VIRAVAIDYA: And in the Buddhist scriptures
it said, "Many births cause suffering," so Buddhism is not against
family planning. And we even ended up with monks sprinkling holy water on pills
and condoms for the sanctity of the family before shipments went out into the
villages. So when AIDS came along, it's like using "Gone With the
Wind" in Technicolor and stereophonic sound. It's just redoing the family
planning program and getting out to the public.
FRED DE SAM LAZARO: The renewed condom and AIDS
information campaign is widely credited with a dramatic drop in the number of
HIV infections, from about 140,000 a year in 1990, to about 30,000 cases a year
a decade later.
MECHAI VIRAVAIDYA: So any customer who buys some
fruit will also get condoms and AIDS safety tips.
FRED DE SAM LAZARO: Fewer Thai men visit brothels,
and of those who do, the number using condoms went from below ten percent to
more than 90 percent. But amid the severe Asian financial crisis, Thailand cut
funds for its AIDS campaign in the late '90s. That's blamed for an increase in
infections among certain key populations, including pregnant women. Experts say
this group represents the emerging generation of adults, and the message hasn't
resonated with enough of them. Viravaidya says the lesson is: There is no room
for complacency, and that campaigns must be sustained.
MECHAI VIRAVAIDYA: You can't just do it for a year
and stop. You have to continue and change your message, put it into soap operas,
commercial movies again; we have to redesign our public education program and
make it a bit more jazzy compared to its last days of somewhat dullness.
FRED DE SAM LAZARO: So, it just basically lost
steam?
MECHAI VIRAVAIDYA: Yes.
FRED DE SAM LAZARO: Viravaidya is confident
Thailand's infection rate can be contained once again. Awareness is high, as is
literacy, as is the availability of condoms. The big problem is how to deal
with the one million or so Thais already infected. Tens of thousands of
previously symptom-free HIV patients are now in the visible, advanced, or
terminal, stages of the disease. The campaigns may have raised awareness,
curiosity, and even generous donations, but patients like Phra Choochart, one
of about a dozen monks here, say that doesn't translate to sympathy or
compassion.
PRA CHOOCHART: I keep secret for many years. But
finally, something happened in my skin. It beginning to appear. I cannot keep
secret anymore. So, I come to be a monk because in society if you catch HIV,
nobody want you; also your family.
FRED DE SAM LAZARO: Family members rarely visit
patients, most of whom are from the lower socioeconomic groups. The monastery
offers a refuge. But with the pressing numbers, even here, the care seems more
matter of fact than compassionate. Chris Lack is a recent medical graduate from
Australia, one of several foreign volunteers.
CHRIS LACK, Volunteer Doctor: Right, so these are
the coffins that every day when patients die and they're loaded into one of
these, and then the next morning they're taken in a truck out here and off to
the crematorium. There are seven, seven ovens in the crematorium. So,
apparently, when they were building it, they built it with the belief that...
that, you know... I might just go over and check if this guy's alright. He's
still alive. He will probably die tonight. He's held on for a couple days now,
and he didn't seem like he would, but he's... pretty much all that moves now
are his eyes, and even his eyes only sometimes move. So, he's very much in the
last stage.
FRED DE SAM LAZARO: Death here is a no-frills
affair. Every day, an average of two to three patients die. They are
transferred to the crematory, and after a brief Buddhist ceremony, the bones
and ashes are piled up ever higher. Few patients remains are ever claimed by
their families. The Abbott hopes in time that the hospice will teach people
that AIDS needn't be contagious; that families should care for their loved ones
at home.
PRA ALONGKOT DIKKAPANYO: I try to give knowledge to
our people for a long time, ten years. And nowadays, they can visit the
patients. They like to learn, they like to visit, but they cannot touch the
patients. Maybe five or ten years in the future, our hospital will be like a
school: It gives knowledge; people can come here and learn how to look after
the patient in their family.
FRED DE SAM LAZARO: Also, the Thailand government
will soon make available at just a dollar a day the so-called cocktail drugs;
these expensive anti-retroviral drugs are now commonly used by HIV patients in
the West; in time, they should extend the lives of Thai HIV patients and lessen
the need for spaces like these. Right now, this monastery has a waiting list of
10,000 AIDS patients.
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