Sunday Times (Johannesburg) - July 16, 2006
Adam Levin

THE moment that this year's Alan Paton Award was announced was one of the most exciting of my life.

Holding Judge Edwin Cameron's hand and walking up to the podium to accept this honour will remain forever one of the most precious treasures of memory.

It was only a few days later, I guess, that it dawned on me what a huge responsibility comes with this honour.

When I was on literally my death bed, I wrote AidSafari, a raw, personal memoir about my journey with Aids. Now, again, I must rise to the occasion, and use the impetus of the award to leverage international attention towards the Aids crisis in this country.

The mortality predictions say that 10% of our population will be lost to Aids by 2015. Given that alarming number - which is not a number, it is people, and quite possibly people you know and see every day - it doesn't matter any more whether you are HIV positive or negative: This country has Aids, and if you care about this country, then in a weird way, you have it too.

As honoured as I was by the award, I also felt a little uneasy about it. My fear is that this award sends out a skewed message to people grappling with the issues of sex and mortality that I explored in my memoir.

I worry that, on some twisted, subconscious level, it says: "It's okay to get infected: you win prizes, you get your picture in the paper, you get your ARV cocktail and you'll be fine."

It's not okay. There's nothing glamorous about Aids.

I am proud of many things I have done, but contracting the virus is not one of them. It was probably the dumbest thing I've ever allowed to happen, and I regret it.

Now that the excitement of the awards is over, I am still HIV positive, I still live with constant pain, and I still must swallow a bucket of expensive medication daily. For anyone out there who is HIV negative, protecting yourself against contracting the virus is the most important thing you can do.

If you happen to be HIV positive, you too have many important things to do. It's amazing for me how full my life is today, considering the near-death situation I was in a year and a half ago, and I feel very blessed to be here.

For all the aloneness I experienced while I was ill, I now know so many people who are HIV positive. Slowly, carefully, they have approached me, and yet they remain reticent to speak out.

The stigma is still very real, and to anyone who has the courage to help challenge that by coming out, I salute you: you are a one in 10. A brave one.

Just when the struggle for liberation was won, we find ourselves in the throes of another struggle, one that poses a threat to this country's future. It's up to us to break that ghastly cycle. And we can.

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