Chip and I had an incredible time in Tanzania.� So, let me start by saying this: You know that feeling you get when a full explanation would take 25,000 words, but you’ve only got 500, and you’re afraid to oversimplify, but you’re also afraid to give a vague “neat experience” summary, and this causes a cycle of anxiety and actually deters you from writing anything…?� So, yeah, that’s the feeling I’ve got.

Let me start at the end: In conjunction with an amazing team of collaborators (more on them in a sec), we cooked up 2 campaigns that will likely be pilot-tested within� 6 months.� One campaign is intended to encourage Tanzanians to get tested for HIV.� (The� push for testing was recently given a huge boost� by the Tanzanian president, who courageously made a well-publicized visit to a clinic for get tested.� The number of tests spiked immediately afterward.� And, as a further tangent, his action is a classic situation in which� external credibility is more effective than idea stickiness.)� The core of the� “get tested”� campaign is this: That getting tested is an act of solidarity with your fellow Tanzanians.� It’s good for the country.

In the prototype posters we� hatched, you see� pairs of dissimilar� Tanzanians (such as a grandma and granddaughter, or a Masai and a manager) who are clutching hands in a show of unity.� Around their wrists are colorful bands that signify that they’ve been tested (a la LiveStrong).� And the headline is, roughly, “We are Tanzanians.”� [For those who have read MTS, we were consciously making an identity appeal� with this campaign, a la Don’t Mess With Texas.� See the Emotion chapter.� � So many AIDS-related campaigns appeal solely to consequences — live longer, reduce your anxiety, it’s quick and easy,� you can prevent harm for others, etc.� We felt that an identity appeal� could provide a stronger� motivation.]�

The other campaign is intended to combat the common phenomenon of cross-generational relationships.� In the stereotypical case, an older male with money and status finds himself a young mistress (often as young as 18 or 19) and maintains a long-term-ish “sugar daddy” type relationship with her.� These relationships provide a route for� HIV to spread between dissimilar populations, which creates a nasty epidemiological problem.� Now, certainly this kind of relationship exists in the Western world.� But there’s a counterforce: Social taboos.� If a 50 year-old guy is hitting on an 18 year-old,� our Pathetic Alarm goes off.� Nasty looks are offered.� People whisper about� the lecher� behind his back.� But there’s no real equivalent of this taboo in Tanzania — there’s no� common language of scorn or disgust or distaste� to invoke against� these situations.

� So, in the second campaign, we introduce a villainous character named Fataki (Swahili for “explosion” or “fireworks” — i.e., keep your distance from this dude).� Fataki is a wealthy, powerful guy who is irredeemably sleazy.� Comically sleazy.� He hits on anything that moves — schoolgirls, strangers, other mens’ wives.� In the campaign — which would include posters and radio spots — we’ll try to make people laugh at Fataki’s shamelessness, and also, importantly, at the repeated rejections he receives (think Wile E. Coyote).� As the tagline of the campaign will read, “He’s constantly hitting on women.� He won’t wear a condom.� He won’t get tested.� DON’T LET YOUR LOVED ONES GET MIXED UP WITH A FATAKI.”

Our hope is that “Fataki” will enter the lexicon.� Our dream is that� a year or two from now, we could return to Tanzania and overhear someone in� a bar,� saying about someone else, “He’s such a Fataki.”

Working on these campaigns was one of the most fun and satisfying moments since the book launch.� And what made it fun and satisfying was the company we had: Our hosts, Pam and Mike, from USAID, the branch of the State Department that would lead the launch of these campaigns.� Bob (affiliated with Johns Hopkins), who helped organize and lead our work.� � Plus a� half-dozen AIDS-education experts who’ve been working in the region and were willing to share their knowledge and experience.� And a hell of a Tanzanian creative team — approximately a dozen scriptwriters, producers, artists, and actors — who helped us develop and produce the campaign mockups, which in turn gave us something concrete to present to the decision-makers.� (The process of producing creative work, with conversations constantly translated between English and Swahili, is probably worth another blog post.)

Okay, I’m gonna shut up now.� Thanks to those of you who sent encouraging notes to us.� We’ll continue to post updates to track the progress of the campaigns.