Remembering unites us; acting transforms us.
Each May, communities around the world light candles to hold space between grief and resolve — and in Tarapacá, Chile, that ritual gathered students, physicians, and health officials at Arturo Prat University to honor those lost to HIV and AIDS. The vigil, born in 1983 and now woven into the global health calendar, carried a dual purpose: to remember the dead and to reckon honestly with how much their deaths cost before treatment became a right. Chile has made real progress — free antiretroviral therapy, public health guarantees, and now PrEP as a prevention tool — yet the authorities gathered in Iquique were careful to name what remains unfinished, knowing that vigilance and memory are not separate obligations but the same one.
- Decades after the epidemic's darkest years, the Tarapacá vigil confronts a tension that won't dissolve: progress has been real, but the lives spent reaching it demand more than celebration.
- Stigma persists, diagnosis gaps remain, and health officials warn that declaring victory would undo the very advances being commemorated.
- Chile's public health system now offers free antiretroviral treatment and PrEP — pre-exposure prophylaxis — as concrete tools to stop new infections before they begin.
- The National HIV/AIDS Program coordinates these vigils across the country, binding local grief to a national prevention strategy and a human rights framework.
- The candles in Iquique burned not as a closing gesture but as a signal that the fight has shifted ground — from survival to sustained access, from emergency to accountability.
In the amphitheater of Arturo Prat University this May, the Tarapacá region lit candles and spoke the names of those lost to HIV and AIDS. The Candlelight vigil — a tradition that began in 1983 and has since spread across the world — brought together students, health officials, and community representatives under a shared motto: remembering unites us; acting transforms us.
For regional health authority Dr. Ximena Muñoz Urbina, the day carried particular weight. She acknowledged those who had died fighting for dignified access to treatment — a battle that once seemed unwinnable — and noted that today, antiretroviral therapy is guaranteed and free through Chile's public health system. The progress was real. So was its cost.
Dr. Olga López Muñoz, infectious disease specialist and president of Sida Chile, traced the distance traveled: in the epidemic's early years, there was no guaranteed treatment, no protection against discrimination, no right to care. Nursing students sang. A presentation mapped the historical arc of the epidemic, the stigma that persisted, and the gaps that remained.
But the authorities were careful not to declare victory. HIV had not been erased, and prevention remained essential. Dr. Muñoz highlighted PrEP — pre-exposure prophylaxis — now available within the public health system to anyone who needs it, proven effective at stopping infections before they start.
The Tarapacá vigil was one node in a national network coordinated by Chile's HIV/AIDS and STI Program, linking health authorities, strategic partners, and civil society in a sustained effort to keep the disease visible and defend the rights of those living with it. What the gathering made clear was not a problem solved, but a long struggle that had shifted ground — and candles that burned in recognition of what the dead had demanded: that treatment be free, that dignity be non-negotiable, and that the work continues.
In the amphitheater of Arturo Prat University, the Tarapacá region gathered this May to light candles and speak the names of the dead. The annual Candlelight vigil—a ritual that has marked May since 1983, spreading across the world each year—brought together students, health officials, and community representatives to honor those lost to HIV and AIDS, both in Chile and beyond.
The gathering carried a motto that framed the work ahead: remembering unites us; acting transforms us. For the regional health authority, Dr. Ximena Muñoz Urbina, the day held particular weight. She spoke of those who had died fighting for dignified access to treatment, a battle that had once seemed unwinnable. Today, she noted, treatment is guaranteed and free through Chile's public health system. The progress was real, but the cost of reaching it—measured in lives—demanded acknowledgment.
Dr. Olga López Muñoz, an infectious disease specialist at Ernesto Torres Galdamés Hospital in Iquique and president of Sida Chile, added another layer to the remembrance. In the disease's early years, she explained, nothing was assured. There was no guaranteed treatment, no protection against discrimination, no right to care. Each year's vigil, she said, also marks how far the response has come. The nursing students from the university sang. A presentation traced the historical arc of the epidemic, its prevention challenges, the stigma that persisted, and the gaps in diagnosis and treatment access that remained.
Yet the authorities were careful not to declare victory. Despite the advances—the free antiretroviral therapy, the public health guarantees—HIV had not been erased. Prevention remained essential work. Dr. Muñoz emphasized that within the public health system, a prevention tool called PrEP, or pre-exposure prophylaxis, was now available to anyone who needed it. This medication, taken before potential exposure, had proven effective at stopping new infections before they started.
The Candlelight vigil in Tarapacá was one node in a larger network. Across Chile, the National Program for HIV/AIDS and Sexually Transmitted Infections coordinates these annual commemorations, working with health authorities, strategic partners, and civil society organizations. The vigil is woven into the regional prevention plan, part of a sustained effort to keep the disease visible, to fight the stigma that still clung to it, and to defend the human rights of those living with and affected by HIV.
What emerged from the gathering was not a story of a problem solved, but of a long struggle that had shifted ground. The dead were honored not as relics of a distant past, but as witnesses to a fight that continues. The candles burned in their memory and in recognition of what their deaths had demanded: that treatment be free, that dignity be non-negotiable, that the right to care be written into law. The work of prevention, of reducing stigma, of ensuring access—that work goes on.
Citas Notables
We honor those who died fighting for dignified access to treatment, which is now guaranteed and free through public health guarantees.— Dr. Ximena Muñoz Urbina, Regional Health Authority
In the disease's early years, treatment was not guaranteed, discrimination was not prohibited, and the right to care did not exist. Each year we also recognize how far we have come.— Dr. Olga López Muñoz, Infectious Disease Specialist and President of Sida Chile
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why does a region still gather each year to remember people who died from a disease we now have treatment for?
Because treatment came late, and only after people died demanding it. The vigil marks both the loss and the fact that their deaths changed what was possible.
So it's not just memorial—it's political?
Exactly. It's saying: we remember what you fought for, and we're keeping the promise you died trying to secure.
What's the risk if people stop coming?
That the disease becomes invisible again. That prevention gets defunded. That stigma creeps back in. That people forget why free treatment matters.
And PrEP—that's new?
It's available now through the public system. It's a way to stop infection before it happens. But only if people know it exists and can access it.
So the vigil is also about saying: this is still happening, we still need to act?
Yes. Remembering and acting are the same thing.