HIV/AIDS

Do you ever have one of those really good, really intense days where statistics become real to you and your life is never the same afterwards? Yesterday was one of those days for me. I spent the day with some nurses and social workers from Island Hospice, where I am hoping to do some volunteer work in the near future. We went into a high density area and spent a few hours at a clinic. We met about 40 women and children within a few hours, and all of them were HIV+.

The first boy I met was 16, but he looked about 11. He had just tested positive for HIV, and was saying that he knew he had to be strong and ignore his aunts who were accusing him of bringing shame to the family. Both his parents are dead.

We met another 16 year old who was just getting back on ARVs. He had been going to a church where the pastor told him that taking the drugs was a sign of weak faith. So, he stopped taking them and had a stroke. After much struggle, he's back on the retrovirals.

We met an 11 year old girl who looked about 6. Since going on ARVs she has put on some weight, and her mom is so proud of how beautiful she looks in her school uniform. Many women spoke about how their children are angry with them for passing on the HIV virus during childbirth. Imagine the guilt...

We met a woman who has been on ARVs for a few years, but has just been re-infected. The only way she can put food on the table is by selling her body, and most "customers" don't like condoms. I guess it's a choice she makes - die now (hunger) or later (HIV/AIDS).

We met a cute little 3 year old whose 4 year old sister died last week of malnutrition. The nurses were pleading with her 11 year old cousin to take good care of her. The 11 year old has 7 kids to look after.

I spent the afternoon at a support group for kids who are caring for dying parents (or, in some cases, grandparents who are their guardians because they are already orphans). There were about 15 kids - aged 10 - 16, and I developed such a respect and admiration for them. They had received 3 days of training from Island, and then had monthly support group meetings. Some of their comments really struck me:

"I learned that when I am cleaning up my mom's diarrhea or vomit, I need to protect myself by wearing plastic bags on my hands. And I learned that I can't be upset when my mother messes or when she yells at me. Because she is very sick."

"I find it difficult to talk to my mom about dying. I don't want her to die. I keep praying that she'll get better."

"I had always dreamed of going to boarding school and getting a good education. My grandmother promised me that she would put me through school. But on that fateful day, she was killed in a road accident on the way back from the rural areas."

"I love school, but I can't go anymore. I'm 16. I have to be an adult now."

"I didn't like it at my mother's funeral when people kept telling me not to cry or be upset. It was painful."

"The people we share a house with always make fun of my mother, but she is too weak to say anything. She just goes into her room and cries. But I yell at them."

"It hurts me when my father whips me. He sends me to the market so early in the morning that sometimes I fall asleep in school. He is always shouting at me, but all I want to do it take care of him."

"I think an example of spiritual pain is when people tell you your parent is going to hell, and then they die."

Of course I have known about HIV/AIDS for a long time. I know the statistics. But to spend a whole day meeting people infected or severely affected by the disease... So many stories, so many lives, so much poverty, so many emotions. This is a crisis day after day, hour after hour...