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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