Leaving the orphan support organization, we head further up the dirt road to visit with a woman who has AIDS and is cared for by her mother. Her mother appears to be perhaps in her 60's, but I don’t know this for sure. She speaks some English, is impassioned about the work of the caregivers and speaks reverently and appreciatively to us. She is a guardian (someone who helps take care of the orphans) as well as provides home based care to her sick daughter. She stood during the ceremony/presentation to tell us this: "I am a guardian. And you are our guardians." It is a powerful message delivered in that room.
We arrive at an area further up the hill with an immaculately clean homesite. There are two well kept huts, a small fenced in pig house, a large circular basket-weave maize storage, a screened toilet area and a fire area. A woman slowly emerges from one of the huts and we gather around her and sit in the shade of the hut. A small boy of about 3 or 4 runs over to lean on her lap, hold her hands, and watch us. She says, with the help of an interpreter, that she would like to tell us her story. She is soft spoken and she tells her tale with a simplicity and poise that belies the heartbreaking reality. Her name is Sarah and she is 40 years old. Her husband is dead. She has three sons, the youngest is the child with her now. His name is Promise. She has a daughter, Asale. Three years ago, she gave her daughter a blood transfusion. Shortly after that her daughter started getting sick all the time. They finally tested her and found that she had AIDS (the transfusion was before they were testing blood.) Asale was 9 years old at the time. She was able to get on ARVs (Anti-RetroViral drugs) and is doing very well today. She is in school, but the only person at school who knows her HIV status is the teacher. The children think that she had TB (which she also did). There is still a certain amount of stigma attached to those who are HIV+. Sarah had been very sick herself, but was doing better now (although, clearly, she is not feeling entirely well). Her mother lives in the other hut and helps to take care of her.
While this is certainly not an easy story to hear, it becomes heavier still when I learn that after 10-15 years, a person on ARVs will begin to become drug resistant. If she cannot get second line drugs, she will die. This means she could be about my age. It also means that Asale will be between 19-24. What does the future hold for these women?
It is nearly the end of second day of our visits, there is yet much more to come, and I am already fighting the crush of overwhelming helplessness.
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