Case Study 1 Experiences Using Bridges of Hope   at the Nairobi Show by Lucy Kimani and Virginia Gikori Standard Chartered Bank Kenya Living with HIV Champions
		Photograph: A lady balances herself across the bridge as the spectators watch how much easier it is to live as an affected or an infected person with support from family, friends and the community as a whole.   Facilitating the session is Jackson Agadamba, assisted by Silvester Marube and Anthony Corline (in Blue T-Shirts).   Summary of Experiences by Lucy Kimani Nairobi Show was first and foremost great fun!  The commitment, enthusiasm and energy of the Champions was overwhelming!  We started off by training the 25 Champions on the use of the Bridges of Hope materials.   The bridges were a great crowd puller!  The champions found them simple and practical to use. They generated a lot of debate especially around the moral and legal issues on the use of condoms.  On occasions, the debate got so hot, we conceded to remove the support bridge and discuss the practical consequence with facts and figures e.g. what is the % of sexually active Kenyan who feel as passionately against condom usage?  How many of them are likely to be HIV positive? However, at the end of the day, the emphasis that 'You make the difference' brought the message home. We also had a 'Creative Corner'.  We provided paint, brushes and canvas paper for people to freely express themselves.  We hope to capture the creativity and 'frame' some of the ideas.  They were great! Many of the show goers commented that the whole  experience was  'very thought provoking.'    Here are a few of the comments from the Champions with regard to the use and effectiveness of the Bridges of Hope : ¨'Simple, creative and very practical' ¨ 'The one thing I would like to comment on is the Bridge; the idea is brilliant, it works very well as it is interactive and the lesson hits home.' ¨'The use of Bridges of Hope tools were informative and creative, thus people who got involved with it understood more on the dangers surrounding our lives and the importance of support to reach our goals.'     Finally we asked ourselves the question, 'Did we really touch lives?'  Every Champion had a moving story but best captured by this story from Virginia Gikori.   Break the Silence Mama! by Virginia Gikori Thursday, 3rd October, 2002, 11.00 a.m. &ldots;. The crowd was growing, everyone, young and old , curious and excited, wanting to hear more, see more and take some more!  (true to the Nairobi International Show spirit of collecting as many brochures, paper caps/visors, flyers, and free samples as possible)! I could see her from the corner of my eye, a little bit detached from the crowd, but in the crowd all the same.  She seemed to be a million miles away.  She was beautiful at her age, which I gathered to be around 50 and her 15 or so year-old daughter was even prettier.  She'd dressed in denim all the way - including a funky denim hat.  She seemed alright to me, or to anyone else.  When I glanced at her direction, she gave me a smile that didn't reach her eyes.  Her sorrow showed.  Deep sorrow.  For some reason, I was curious to know her. My colleague Monica Ndirangu and I were having a time and a half answering questions from the boys who came from schools in Nairobi and upcountry.  They seemed to know too much, yet too little. "Where are the girls?", the champions kept asking. This particular group had come from a school in Kajiado District, deep in the heart of Maasailand.  They had questions upon questions.  We were surprised that there were no 'virgins' among them, except probably the very shy ones who'd not want to admit so to their peers, lest they be regarded as 'half men'.  Sometimes the very deep details required prompting from the champions.  But the message was passed on in simplicity and clarity. As Monica moved with the group to another activity, the lady edged closer to the table and asked:  "Can I pick one?" and I smiled back and told her "Yes Ma'am. Take one from each pack, read for yourself when you get home and share with as many people as possible." I saw her face light up as she'd succeeded in breaking the ice.  Then she gave me a nervous smile, drew me aside and whispered in my ear: "I'm so glad I can talk to someone about this.  Someone who won't laugh or pretend to help and then run to discuss it with the neighbours.  I'm dying inside.  You've got to help me!" "Mama how can I help you?  I'd love to." She briefly told me that her husband was having an affair and that she was scared he could catch HIV/AIDS and pass it on to her.  The lady she was not even sure whether he was having one or multiple partners out there.   To make matters worse, the tell-tale stale 'foreign' perfumes that his clothes reeked of every time he came home from a business trip out of town were driving her crazy!  She was literally terrified as she recounted her frustrations, and did not want to keep quiet like the millions of women all over the world who are dying because they shut their mouths when they shouldn't have. I slowly explained to her what the journey of life meant, and what she must do to attain her dreams.  We discussed HIV and AIDS in depth, what she knew and didn't, as well as what she wanted to do.  In the end, we both agreed that it was time for action, which would start by breaking the barriers of silence.  She told me that she would complement what she had learned from our conversation with the printed materials, as a first step towards involving the whole family in a discussion. By the time she left the stand after our lengthy chat, she knew exactly what she had to do, when, and how.  She left, armed with the conviction that although the fight is our collective responsibility, it starts with her. I watched her as she walked past the guard at the entrance to the National Aids Control Council stand, the umbrella body under which SCB and other organisations had been allocated space to hold demonstrations and exhibit their materials on HIV/AIDs. Somehow, in my heart, I knew she would never be the same.  Her family would never be the same either, from that moment on.  Thanks to Standard Chartered Bank. As I headed to the back of the stand for a brief break, I caught Eckersley Kisanya staring at me.  Apparently, he'd been watching us for a while, wondering what the lady was whispering to me.  When our eyes met, all he could tell me was: "That was deep." We smiled at each other and moved back to our respective stations, energised to serve some more with our message of hope.  Our determination to save one more life was stronger than ever before.  We may not all be infected, but we are all affected, one way or the other.  That's a fact. Someone's got to do something.  That someone's me.  That someone's you.