A wind of hope in Kenya's desert

Madonna's 1980s hit song 'Like a Virgin' blasts incongruously from a giant silver speaker in the corner of a bar deep inside Isiolo - a dusty town on the edge of Kenya's northern Kaisut desert, filled with tough nomads and their herds of emaciated animals. The establishment heaves with an assortment of locals and truck drivers in transit to Addis Ababa, Mogadishu and Nairobi. A mist of perspiration rises from the bodies of the dancing throng into the cool night air, and the sound of bottles breaking on the stony floor - slimy with spilled alcohol and old food - adds to the cacophony.

Even though a large sign has been posted above the counter that reads 'Adults Only' (this in bright red letters), 12-year-old Ursula* is here too. She is a member of Isiolo's "Coca Cola generation". "These girls are called this because to have sex with them, all a man does is buy them a Coca Cola!" laughs Saafo Gedi, one of the bar's regulars.

But for Khadija Rama, founder of Isiolo's Pepo la Tumaini Jangwani programme, the existence of the Coca Cola generation is cause for concern, not a source of amusement. (Pepo la Tumaini Jangwani is Swahili for "Wind of Hope in the Desert".) "People here call the young prostitutes aged between nine and 13 the Coca Colas, and those who are between 13 and 16 are called the 'Nikes' - like the shoe - because it is more expensive to have sex with them," she told IPS.

Inevitably, AIDS has flourished in this setting, although many here are in a state of denial about the effect the pandemic is having on their communities. The surrounding district is home to the Borana, Meru, Turkana and Somali ethnic groups, who are mostly Muslim. "Our graveyards here are full of people who have died of HIV - all Muslims. And the bars are full of young prostitutes - all Muslims.

Yet, the community says, 'Muslims do not get AIDS; Muslims are not sex workers'," whispers Christine Osedo, one of Rama's colleagues at Tumaini. According to the Joint United Nations Programme on HIV/AIDS, HIV prevalence in Kenya is 6.7 percent. It seems that everyone has their part in play in sustaining Isiolo's illusions. "In the day, we wear buyi-buyi (black robes) and veils. At night we wear loose clothing," says Ursula, "so no one knows we are the prostitutes."

Matters are hardly improved by the fact that this vast and arid northern frontier of Kenya has long been neglected by authorities in Nairobi. But, Rama's non-governmental organisation (NGO) does what it can to distribute anti-retroviral drugs to people whose immune systems have begun to buckle under HIV (AIDS organisations estimate that about 200,000 people in the country require the medication). It also counsels those infected with the HI-virus, and runs a school for AIDS orphans.

Not least, Tumaini provides a haven for women driven out of their communities for having contracted HIV - women such as Anna Longori, a Turkana now shunned by her family. "I fell sick; so my family told me they do not want me, because I am a bad woman who has brought shame on them. Now Tumaini is my family," the widow told IPS. Aziza Ngaruthi, from a village in Meru district, arrived at the NGO a few months ago, determined to make a difference after watching AIDS take its toll on her younger sister. "The people in my community hated my sister for having HIV/AIDS. They even hated her children! Then I decided to come here to train so I could teach others not to hate," Ngaruthi said.

However, Tumaini has also found itself in an increasingly bitter struggle with certain members of Isiolo's conservative community. "Men here regard women as third-class citizens. So especially when we deal with issues of sex and sexuality, they become very angry," says Rama. "The men say we're showing off or we're trying to compete with them. Women here are supposed to be submissive, and when we're assertive then the men are offended."

One of the issues that she takes particular exception to is a cultural practice, common to the Borana and other groups, which allows men to share their wives with others. "This (practice) is just an excuse for promiscuity," maintains Rama, noting that it also provides an ideal avenue for the spread of AIDS. Ibrahim Abdullahi, a Borana man, will have none of it. "Jaal (the sharing of wives) is a part of our culture. Khadija is a stupid woman; she does not respect our customs," he says angrily. "Jaal is the custom to promote the unity between men of our tribe, to strengthen the tribe. But this woman who thinks she is a man wants to destroy the tribe... We will fight her!"

Rama has never been afraid of a fight, however: the ragged scars across her hands and arms bear testimony to that. "One night, after Khadija spoke at a meeting where she told the people to use condoms, some men attacked her home. They tried to kill her with a panga, but Khadija fought them off," says Stephen Fani, in charge of nutrition at Tumaini. Dismissing the near-fatal incident as "pure robbery", Rama says she relies on a "simple saying" as she goes about the business of combating gender discrimination in her war on AIDS: "Men will always have their will, but women will have their way."

Rama has been classed not only as a traitor to culture - but also to religion. "These condoms, they are not the way of Islam," spits Abdiker Mohammed, a Somali clansman. "Khadija is not the good woman of Islam. These condoms, they are to blame for people having the most sex!" Despite this wave of angry denial, Rama and her followers have won over a key figure in the form of local imam, Rashid Haroun, who has begun preaching about the dangers of risky sex. He has also tackled the abuse of women and the stigmatization of persons infected and affected by AIDS. "I have seen in Isiolo now that more people are accepting that HIV/AIDS is a real threat to Muslims - and that this disease is not a western, Christian illness but an illness of the entire humanity," says Haroun.

As heartening as these words must be to her, Rama doesn't pause to savour them: there's no time for complacency at Tumaini. "This war will be a long one," she says. "Tonight we will go out and place the condoms at the bars, yet again. And again, many people will laugh at us, or become furious. But, maybe just one man will use the condoms, and then our efforts will have been worthwhile."