AIDS activist educates Salvadorans, a village at a time.
Annel, 74, entered the Maryknoll order at age 18 and became a medical doctor, serving in neighboring Guatemala. She arrived in El Salvador the year after the peace treaty was signed in 1992. By then, she had "methodically, coolly looked at where the health challenges for the future were globally," as a public health professional.
"I'm a thinker, not a feeler," she insisted during an interview the day before the team's trip into the countryside.
Born in Chicago, willowy tall with short dark blonde hair, Annel wears a long skirt of light fabric appropriate for the steamy weather. Her red polo shirt is embroidered with the Spanish name of the education and accompaniment group she founded, CONTRASIDA, and its logo, a white candle with an ever-burning flame embraced by a red HTV/AIDS awareness ribbon.
In the early 1990s, the AIDS epidemic was raging.
"As Maryknoll sisters, we're used to doing an analysis, then going," Annel said. "I did homework, attended courses, surveyed Maryknoll sisters on AIDS in Africa, Southeast Asia and other parts of Latin America. Then I recommended we go to countries next door to AIDS epicenters to work on prevention, and keep the disease from spreading."
In the early 1980s, the first Central American AIDS case appeared in Honduras--an infected dentist who returned to his home country after living in San Francisco. Honduras became the epicenter of the epidemic in Central America. Thousands of Salvadorans had fled to Honduran refugee camps to escape the massacres perpetrated by a U.S.-supported army; Annel reckoned that returning Salvadoran refugees at least would have heard of AIDS, one starting point for education.
Beginning as an archdiocesan team, CONTRASIDA is now a nonprofit foundation (proper name: Fundacion Salvadorena para la Lucha Contra el SIDA, "Maria Lorena"). The nonprofit grew to number 20 social workers, communicators, pastoral accompaniers of the afflicted and 250 volunteers. Soon CONTRASIDA was reaching 40,000 people a year with classes, literature and workshops for teachers and others who might "multiply" correct information.
In El Salvador as elsewhere, AIDS was stigmatized, even considered punishment for wanton sexual behavior. Families unaware of how the disease was transmitted isolated affected members, feeding them with disposable plates; a Catholic school run by nuns kicked out children of stricken parents. Dioceses and government agencies, including prisons, came to CONTRASIDA with requests every month for education.
CONTRASIDA first concentrated on urban areas, "where people don't have community underpinnings," opening a clinic that currently serves 200 patients a week.
For some, clinic day has become a family celebration. Patients and relatives, including children, spend hours, receiving hot lunch, educational talks, and support visits by volunteers. When the school year begins, AIDS orphans and children of parents with HIV are given books and uniforms.
"Today, the epidemic has become focalized," said Annel--and it has become a chronic disease. It affects heterosexual people, but its highest prevalence is among transgender people; men who have sex with men; and commercial sex workers, including young girls trafficked in ports and border areas that serve as steppingstones to the United States.
At least 25,000 people live with HIV/AIDS here, about 0.4 percent of the population of some 6 million, although the United Nations agency UNAIDS has estimated some 40-50 percent of cases are not reported.
When CONTRASIDA began, only one other HIV/AIDS-focused group existed here, made up of gay men who had lived in the United States. Today, there are more than 50 groups. From having the second-highest rate of the disease among the six Central American countries, after Honduras, El Salvador has dropped to fifth place. The government provides free medication.
Nevertheless, stigma of HIV/AIDS persists, while "people still consider it fatal," said Annel, even though it is controlled with medication taken correctly
A high birth rate makes the population lopsidedly young--30 percent are under age 15--and sexual relations begin early That is why Annel is expanding outreach to adolescents, like those she is going to visit in the village some two hours away from the capital. The doors close on the packed car, and dawn turns into sunrise as the team hits the road.
Social worker Angel Torres, 28, takes the wheel and soon brings the station wagon onto open highway fringed with fields of sugar cane.
Torres began to work at CONTRASIDA after attending one of its "Masculinities and Prevention of HIV" workshops, two intensive weekends at a retreat center with other men. The men engage in participatory learning in the model of Paulo Freire, games and reflection, even sessions on cooking and aromatherapy "to awaken the senses and feminine energy." The aim is to become conscious of the implications and risks of the traditional macho way of being a man, with discussions of violence against women; sexual diversity; and active, sensitive fatherhood.
"In the United States, condoms are the be all and end all" in HTV prevention, said Annel. "Here we tell people they are more than their thinking, they are their hearts, too, and try to get them to take themselves to the future."
At the same time, CONTRASIDA covers sex education and customary preventions--abstinence, faithfulness to one partner, condom use. Upcoming masculinity workshops, and femininity workshops promoting self-esteem and awareness of sexually transmitted diseases, are scheduled for Supreme Court staff, seminarians and police.
In the main town of the department of Sonsonate, Torres and Annel drop off two CONTRASIDA "communicators" at a radio station, which will broadcast an interview about a Mass for the upcoming World AIDS Day
Next stop: the ancient town of Caluco, where the paved road stops, the heart of a region high in HIV/AIDS cases. With a local team member, Oscar Alcantara, 29, Torres and Annel measure church aisles where youngsters will sing and dance during the Mass. Then, it's another 40 minutes up a road of slippery clay, past sustenance plots of corn and beans, and houses made of corrugated tin, or sticks and mud bricks.
In the schoolyard of the village called Gramales (population 1,000), a crowd of young teenagers waits anxiously They wear bright T-shirts bearing the name of one of several CONTRASIDA theater groups organized around the country to bring HIV/AIDS awareness to adolescents.
"We learn a lot, about HIV, and about how we don't have to accept violence against us," said Miriam Pleiter, 14.
"And we learn how to act," said Pleiter's friend, Evelin Vasquez, also 14. "Hove it."
Schooling here only reaches ninth grade, and it's unlikely more than two or three of these bright-eyed young people will proceed to the nearest high school more than an hour--and a hard-to-afford bus fare--away For today, they throw themselves into the practice at hand.
"We pray that these youth will not be affected," begins Annel. "We pray they will not only extend a hand to those with HIV but become multipliers of education and information."
Torres and Alcantara drill the dancers, and Sr. Maria, as the young people call Annel, cuts up swatches of bright fabric for the Mass event, working hand in hand and laughing with the students.
The bedsides of the ill seem far away, but the talk and activity in tiny Gramales is part of the struggle against HIV/AIDS, too. Over the hours, wind picks up and blows below the village across the plain that spreads to the Pacific, slate blue in the distance.
A circle forms, and Annel tells the youngsters that the testimony of a person living with HIV will be read during the Mass. They will help to light candles held by participants, each marked with the name of someone who has died.
Six people a day are infected with HIV/AIDS in El Salvador. The task of confronting the disease, especially among the poor, remains huge, but Annel and her teams appear unflinching.
This day is typical, and it will be long. Even after collecting the "communicators" in Sonsonate, jerry-rigging a mechanical fix to the sputtering car en route and returning to the capital in the late afternoon, there will be meetings at the office, visits to make. For the moment, however, Annel belongs to the young people in the mountain village. She leads more practice on the song they will intone at the AIDS Mass. The music is lilting, and the refrain carries a spirit of hope:
"Something new is being born, in my people it is beating like a heart," they sing. "Growing with us, something new is being born, growing among the poor."
Caption: In Maryknoll Sr. Mary Virginia Annel's San Salvador office hangs a wall-sized poster depicting four martyred U.S. churchwomen --Ursuline Sr. Dorothy Kazel, Maryknoll Srs. Ita Ford and Maura Clarke, and lay missioner Jean Donovan.
--Mary Jo McConahay
Caption: Angel Torres speaks as Maryknoll Sr. Mary Virginia Annel looks on in Gramales, El Salvador.
--Photos by Mary Jo McConahay
Caption: Young people listen as Annel describes an upcoming Mass that will include a testimony of a person living with HIV and a candlelight ceremony in honor of those who have died.
[Mary Jo McConahay is an author, documentary filmmaker and freelance journalist who has reported widely on social justice issues.]
Please note: Illustration(s) are not available due to copyright restrictions.
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|Title Annotation:||MINISTRY & MISSION; Maryknoll Sr. Mary Virginia Annel|
|Author:||McConahay, Mary Jo|
|Publication:||National Catholic Reporter|
|Date:||Jun 5, 2015|
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