South Africa | Preview #7 for hands holding the line...
Hectar holds his phone as the screen switches off, briefly reflecting the late afternoon sun across his face—a black mirror. Gathered in the center of Pretoria's Church Square, a small team of former staff were called back to wear their scrubs, project polos, and berets once more, reenacting scenes from the work they loved so dearly. I sit now with these memories and wonder what was captured: our uneasy reliance on technology in the HIV response and our daily lives, our grasping for things lost, or those rare moments when reflection itself becomes an act of discovery?
In South Africa, armed with a tiny rental car that wheezed up every hill, I did my best to keep pace with Gauteng’s relentless traffic while visiting a handful of local organizations. I met with transgender community leaders, former HIV program staff, and allies in the response. Compared to other countries I visited, my time here seemed to offer niche perspectives: a handful of fragments instead of a full picture.
The country has no shortage of HIV programs affected by U.S. funding cuts, particularly those serving key populations like transgender people and the broader LGBTI community. Yet many of these stories remained out of my reach, constrained by logistics, media fatigue, donor sensitivity, and something more elusive: a question that has followed me since the start of this project. How do I photograph what is no longer there? Former staff now idle at home, the locked doors of shuttered clinics, and organizations' offices with faded “for lease” signs.
What I did capture was telling in its contrasts. At the Soweto HIV/AIDS Counsellor Association (SOHACA), government resources sustain HIV testing and referrals in everyday neighborhoods. At Access Chapter 2, I learned about programs built through grants and partnerships that flare and fade, building capacity while leaving gaps when funding ends. It felt as if some organizations were running on 5G while others were circling in airplane mode, waiting to reconnect.
I left South Africa with crumbs of a much larger story. But perhaps the fragments themselves reveal something whole: that every person I met, every voice answering the same questions: Why do you do this work? What keeps you going? What’s next? – offers a reflection worth holding onto.
This final preview in hands holding the line… is not a conclusion, but a turning of the page. Ahead are the stories themselves: threads of more than a hundred people, twenty-seven local organizations, and seven countries, woven together into a complex tapestry. What follows are their truths: personal, raw, and enduring. The hands seen here will soon find their voices.
About this article:
- Learn more about the work of local organizations mentioned in this article.
- Part of the hands series: Previews of the people and themes at the center of the response to HIV.
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