In a move that has left the medical community reaching for the nearest bottle of gin, the United States has unilaterally halted HIV funding for South Africa, a country where the virus has long treated the population like a particularly persistent house guest. The decision, announced via a curt press release that reeked of bureaucratic indifference, has been described by one top epidemiologist as 'like cutting the brakes on a bus full of haemophiliacs heading for a cliff.'
It appears that the Trump administration, in its quest to Make America Great Again, has decided that fighting a global pandemic is simply too expensive, too inconvenient, or too likely to be associated with compassion. Instead, they have opted to redirect funds to a wall, presumably one made of solid gold and guarded by eagles. The irony is so thick you could spread it on a biscuit.
South Africa, a nation that has already suffered more than its fair share of historical injustices, now finds itself at the mercy of a virus that thrives on poverty, ignorance, and, apparently, international politics. The US funding, which accounted for a substantial chunk of the country's anti-retroviral programmes, was the thin thread keeping millions of patients alive. With that thread cut, one can only imagine the scramble for alternatives. Perhaps cobblers? Voodoo? Or perhaps they'll simply ask the local witch doctor to file a formal complaint with the UN.
The regional health stability, a phrase that sounds as reassuring as a paper umbrella in a hurricane, is now in jeopardy. Neighbouring countries, already struggling with their own epidemics, are watching with the sort of horror reserved for a car crash in slow motion. The World Health Organisation has issued a statement expressing 'deep concern,' which is diplomatic speak for 'we are absolutely flabbergasted.'
One cannot help but wonder: what next? Will the US stop funding cancer research because they've never met a cell they can trust? Will they remove all traffic lights because they impede the natural selection of pedestrians? The sheer absurdity of the decision demands a satire that writes itself, and yet here we are, reporting on it with the grimness of a hangover after a wedding where you were the best man and the groom ran off with the florist.
In the meantime, the people of South Africa wait. They wait for the next shipment of pills that may never come. They wait for some international body to step in and pretend to care. They wait, as they have always waited, for a miracle or a moment of sanity from the leaders of the free world. But hope, much like the HIV virus, is a stubborn thing. It lingers, it mutates, and it occasionally finds a way to survive. Let us hope that the human spirit, and perhaps a few millionaires with a conscience, will plug the gap before the silence becomes a death sentence.
But here's the kicker: as the news broke, President Trump was reportedly tweeting about the size of his crowds. Priorities, gentlemen, priorities.
