Moonlight and Prostitutes

There is something eerie about Red Light districts. There is something scary about testing for HIV/AIDS. And no matter how you think you might think, there is a general uneasiness when you are in a place where I’m told has the third highest prevalence of AIDS. Your mind tends to run wild with the negative possibilities even if they are irrational.

Put these all together and you have “Moonlight” ministry.

If you have heard me talk about our clinic and VCT at Ring Road, you probably know about the help we give to the Nyalenda slum community and all of our AIDS orphans in the Ring Road Orphan Day School in Kisumu.  But you probably don’t know about the extension of our ministry in other and even tougher spots. Indeed CRF goes to some places that are beyond the boundaries of a bunch of children running and playing.

It is called “Moonlight”.  Four tents are loaded in the back of a couple of three-wheeled scooters. And then it is off to the place where the prostitutes hang out. Prostitution isn’t legal in Kenya, but from the huge numbers of them on the streets and the obvious way that police are looking the other way, it is tolerated. The drive to the area is a trek through the city and a gradual entry into darkness. Lights along the way get fewer and fewer and fewer until you find yourself into a place that seems like total darkness. As your eyes adjust, you realize that there are people everywhere. Then you see the girls hanging out dressed just like you can imagine. And then there are the guys walking around trying to decide how to spend their money and who they really want to pick to spend the next few minutes with. In the background, you can hear the music blaring from some club as it tends to cover up the whispers of the proposed sexual  transactions.

You wonder why anyone is here. Sure, you understand sexual temptation. But here? In one of the AIDS capitals of the world? You want to scream, “Don’t do it!” But you know your screams would never be heard over the blaring of the music and the deaf ears of those who have already made a decision to risk altering their life or even starting a journey to their death.

As I walked along trying to get my eyes to adjust to the physical and spiritual darkness, I could see the outlines of three people in front of me. Then I heard what I really didn’t expect to hear—“Hi, Milt.” And then came hugs from the figures in front of me. I expected next a proposition, and then I realized who was there. It was our nurses and physician’s assistant  from our CRF clinic. They blended themselves right into the heart  of the darkness in order to help. I think it is just where Jesus would have been.

Behind them, I saw our tents. The tents were full of information written in large letters on the sides telling the importance of making the right choices and the critical nature of getting tested. I joined Maurice, our leader of the ministry, as he stood in front of the tents and interacted with the people passing by. We offered invitations into the tent to get some help and perhaps hope. I wondered if anyone would really accept the invitation in such a moment and place of reckless choices. But they did. Around 125 people, both prostitutes and customers, were tested before the evening was over. And that number was only because it was the number of testing kits that were available for the evening.

One young man walked by and accepted the invitation from Maurice, and he invited me to accompany him to the testing. Honestly, I didn’t know if I would be a distraction or discouragement for him in such a stressful situation. His history was taken. But not just the regular stuff—sexual history too. Then his blood was taken from his finger. And his blood was put into a little vial and added to a strip of paper which would ultimately reveal a whole lot of things about this man’s future. And then we waited. I wasn’t sure what to say, so I prayed. He kept looking up at me and connecting his eyes to mine hoping for something but then quickly looking back down to the ground with a sense of shame. This new test only takes ten minutes rather than days like older tests. But this would probably be the longest ten minutes of his life. And it seemed like the ten minutes took forever for me too. In just a few minutes he would leave our dark tent with excruciating pain or immense celebration. And then we waited. Maurice told him how he would know. If there were two lines on the strip, he was positive. If there was only one, he was negative. And then we waited.

He was given the strip. He would examine it to see his own results. It was not going to be revealed secondhand. He looked. And then he asked to make sure his interpretation was correct. He looked at me. He looked at Maurice. The line would paint the way for his future. And there was only one. He was negative. A smile emerged on his face. He walked out briskly and happily after receiving some advice not only about safe sex but also about a new life in Christ. Inside of his head, there had to be some thoughts of how he never wanted to do this again. Maybe he was actually considering a different lifestyle now. Maybe he wanted to have a life of peace where he didn’t have to deal with the worries of death from a cruel disease. He had some new hope. I had some for him too. But it wasn’t the same story in the tent beside us. Not everyone was going to walk away negative. That wasn’t really our choice. But we could give a little hope. And there really is some for you whether you are positive or negative. But it is often hard to see when you are living in the darkness.

I looked back inside of our tent. All you could see was the little candle burning there. A light in the darkness.