A truly happy meal (?)

For any who may be offended by the idea of oral sex, I truly apologize for any discomfort the following may cause...in fact, I encourage you to retreat from your attempt to "check-up" on me and come back next week...

Now, the rest of you perverts sitting there anxiously awaiting to read what I could possibly have to say about oral sex, brace yourselves for what you are about to read...I was truly amazed...

You thought that McDonald´s and Burger King were the only one´s who could produce a good happy meal, didn´t you? I did too, I admit. And then of course Burger King (I believe) took it one more step: they created the big kid meal, with more mature, age-appropriate toys...but now, here in La Plata, I have found the Big Boy meal...and its utter existence truly amazes and disgusts me. It is called a churipete (pronounced churie-pet-ey), and it involves the eating of a sausage (CHURIpan) and fellatio (pete)...for a minimal price of 10 pesos (just over $3USD)...and last week, as I accompanied my colleague and two sex workers who are health promoters to places of prostitution to promote sexual safety (condom use, HIV testing, STI signs and symptoms, etc) among sex workers, I encountered this asenine creation.

Prostitution is one thing, but I am left to wonder where we went wrong with this churipete phenomenon...when did it become acceptable to mix meals and acts of sexual exploitation, of course, but more...I´m left to ponder the (lack of) significance which has been placed on these acts, both by the client and the worker. Certainly there are inumerable contexts which lead a young girl to sex work, but over the past week, I have been stumped by the contexts which could lead a young girl to one of these establishments; for this appears to be a restaurant, and these girls waitresses. It does not appear anyway that these girls are being held against their will or exploited by a pimp of sorts. Did they end up in these "restaurants" because they just have to perform oral sex on customers (albeit while they´re eating...or just after)...or if they at least feel lucky to be there instead of other "houses" for similar reasons. How degraded they must feel to serve as the man´s "toy" in his happy meal. And so I sit, considering the heirarchy of sexual degredation...just which end of this scale of exploitation is "better"? And somewhere along the path of social development, I suppose it became acceptable...maybe more acceptable than visiting a brothel...for a man to visit these places for "dinner" and order such a "simple" act for dessert. Have we really begun to order sex off of a menu?

Before arriving at the churipete establishments along "the route," we visited several other places of prostitution and spoke with the dueños, and in some cases the girls themselves, about the sexual risks to which they were all obviously vulnerable. In the first place (and my first ever), which was only a few streets away from my hous, I was overcome with emotions-- confusion--frustration, sadness, fear, anger (and the list goes on)-- as we entered the dark, dingy waiting room...eluminated by faint red lights and furnished with leather chairs. The place was dirty, literally and figuratively...and the dueño was not much better. In the midst of explaining the importance of getting "his girls" tested for HIV regularly (which he would only submit to if he was given their results) there was an outcry from behind the door which seperated us from the girls...apparently they had begun fighting...and one openned the door crying. So many tears must lie deep within her eyes, I thought...how I would love to sit down for an hour and just talk to each one of the girls and learn more about their personal histories...girls like those I saw should be in high school...they should be learning about themselves and going on dates, not sleeping with older men for money (little of which they surely are able to keep). We invited the girls to come and speak with us, and I saw there scared eyes peer through the crack in the door...were they fearful that I was their next customer, their next violator, their next meal...or were they embarrassed to discuss such issues? Certainly those who provide sexual services for a living couldn´t be embarrassed to discuss sexual acts...or could they? Perhaps, if they have not chosen this life for themselves, they could be, I thought...and I wonder, how many of those eyes which I stared back into through the crack in the door were there against their will...how many young girls had been ripped from their childhood and trafficked like cattle to this place of business?

Unfortunately for many, this is their livelihood, whether self-elected or forced...this is their reality.

I was bruised and battered/And I couldn't tell what I felt/I was unrecognizable to myself

It´s been two weeks since I´ve started working in the HIV clinic here in La Plata, and the words of Bruce Springstein are all around me. Already my head is swimming with stories and emotions. While I am far from seeing it all as they say, I have seen so much more than ever before in such a small period of time. In my first week, I stared Kaposi Sarcoma (skin cancer associated with AIDS...indicating the innevotable mortality which awaits) in the face...I spoke with young women who were meeting HIV head-on, with their small children along for the ride...I spoke with mothers and children of sick patients, transexual sex workers, drug addicts, and patients with fewer CD4 cells than I have fingers...I helped to counsel a young couple, newly infected with HIV, as they delt with the raw emotions associated with the news and anger over the fact that the man was unjustly fired from his job when his co-workers learned that there was merely the suspicion that his girlfriend was HIV-positive...at this point, I began looking for Tom Hanks...but then, this isn´t a Hollywood blockbuster, is it? This is real life...this is HIV in a developing country at the dawning of the 21st century.

I was delighted to hear that the state offers so much to these desperate individuals...the government actually pays for ALL diagnostic tests, care, and treatment (including antiretrovirals)...the problem is, however, that these gifts don´t necessarily give life. After the economic crisis in 2001, life in Argentina quickly plummeted for the vast majority...with over 70% of the population living below the poverty line, HIV is just one more thing that many can just not afford the time or energy to properly deal with. Free ARVs are fantastic...but what good do they do if you have no food, or at least inadequate amounts and types of food, to eat with them (beyond the obvious importance of food, it is incredibly important for HIV-positive individuals to maintain a healthy diet and many of the drugs require that they be taken with food)...what good does emotional counseling and empowerment do if you have no job and no permanent home to call your own? It seems as though these people have been continuously betrayed by their own government and now they have been betrayed by their own bodies...even the blood in their veins is rebelling against them...

Before coming here, I was a bit confused by the words Bruce Sprigstein sings in the middle of his hit song Streets of Philadelphia: ...aint no angel gonna greet me/just you and I my friend...Now I see a bit more clearly just how true these words can be...how right Bruce might have actually been. While I completely see God´s hand here and am confident that there are, in fact, angels here among us...for me, maybe they´re all HIV-positive...I am also accutley aware of the lack of such comfort felt by our patients. I would like to think that there are angels who will greet them here in this world, but I´m just not confident that they will be afforded such encounters...at least not outside of the clinic in which I find myself working. There, we try to build a sense of empowerment and ownership over their bodies, their lives, their illness...we hold workshops every friday (including art therapy and reflection sessions) to supplement our normal medical and psychosocial services, with the hope that we can build a base, a foundation from which the patients can begin to organize their lives and make healthy decisions in every area of their life, as they begin to allow HIV to trickle over into all aspects...as they begin to live with HIV rather than die from it...

Beef, it´s what´s for dinner

For all of you who think you´ve attended a BBQ, I´m sorry to disappoint you...but you have not. That´s right, I said it...the traditional American BBQ that we have in the south, is actually not a BBQ at all, I´ve come to realize...or at least by Argentine standards. I thought I had been to some pretty big BBQs, including the annual Castle Rock Pig Roast at my childhood neighborhood pool...but I was wrong. Last Sunday, after living with my family for just 72 hours, they decided to really welcome me to "the "family" with a traditional Argentine Asado. You might think you know about this, but unless you´ve experienced it, you have no idea. I woke up around 11.30 after being out until 5 the previous morning (I´m telling you things happen so late here!)...and found my host brother, Pablo, in the kitchen surrounded by bags of meat and cleaning pieces of cow that I could not recognize. What was that strangely shaped piece of meat in his hand that he was beginning to cut up? A kidney (riñones), I was quickly told...followed by the intestines (chinchulines)...these were quickly joined by typical beef chorrizos and moircillas (blood sausage) to serve as a sort of appetizers. After the washing of the beef, I accompanied Pablo to the grill on our rooftop patio, where a fire had long been burning...after cleaning the grill with a piece of cow fat (hows that for some southern flare and flavor??), we threw everything on the grill...I have pictures which I will be uploading soon when I get the chance...and went back downstairs to begin welcoming guests and eating bread/crackers and cheese. After about an hour, we returned to the grill and it was time to eat the appetizers...while i could not make myself partake in any of the appetizing blood sausage (which they had in Scotland as well), I did try an intestine and a kidney...but much prefer the typical chorrizo. By this time, I was beginning to get pretty full, considering the ginormous salad that we were also eating...but we were far from done- there was still the main course to eat! Next came the ribs...the biggest ribs that I´ve ever seen in my entire life...and perhaps the tastiest as well...after eating several of these, we waiting for the steak to finish cooking (which was nice because it gave my stomach a little break). This steak, my friends, was amazing...it was so juicy and so flavor-filled...take the highest-end steak place in the states and imagine 100x better...seriously. THIS is steak. Oh...and all was accompanied by chimichurri sauce...which, if you´ve never before had, is a truly heaven-sent condiment...it´s up there with mayonaisse for me, which can tell you that it´s pretty amazing...

Oh wait, you thought we were done? I´m sorry, but no...we still had dessert to eat! This consisted of brownies (which funny enough, they call brownies) and 6 different flavors of ice cream, including their famous dulce de leche...this tasty treat melts in your mouth...

Finally, after 6 hours of eating beef, and full with all parts of cow...I felt like all I couild do was give a loud "moo" or sleep...I chose the latter.