We have returned to the US, and ordinarily I would write about jet lag, the mountains and fond recollections of our trip and of our fortune to be back in our house, with family and kitties. But, I want to make a recollection of a young girl who needlessly died in Moshi.
This young girl, I will call her Mary, though that is not her name, had been infected with HIV from birth. Which parent was first infected is unknown, apparently both parents were rather prominent people, although I did not know them. After her father died, life became difficult for she and her mother, a common theme in Africa. Mary was a good student and had a smile that could light up the world. It is not easy to be a good student when you have HIV-infection because you are often prone to illnesses and you have to go to the clinics at least once/month to collect your medication. Usually, you have to take an entire day just to see your medical provider and get your medicine, even without a thorough exam. Most frequently, you don't have an opportunity to even express your concerns about the way you feel, your rashes, your headaches or fevers. The drill is to get there early, wait until your name is called, and to get your medicine.
Indeed, if you are a young girl and are totally ashamed about your illness, and definitely don't want anyone you know to see you, your pattern is to sneak into the CTC, mumble that you need your medicine, and scurry out as quickly as possible. You don't want donors to come to the school and single you out as one of the "AIDS Victims" who are getting their school fees paid by well meaning Mzungus (white people) because you are likely to be teased by everyone including possibly the teacher after the well meaning mzungu leaves.
This was the case with Mary. Her saving grace was that she belonged to our Moshi Community Advisory Board (CAB), where quite a few other young people attended, some of whom were also HIV-infected. The common theme among them was that it didn't matter. The whole board accepted everyone, and in particular the Teenagers held a special bond. But, things did not go well for Mary. Her mother became ill and she had to miss quite a lot of school. Several other board members said that when they saw Mary, she didn't look well, and our fabulous Research Directors said that she was plagued with low CD4 counts. One counselor said that she was very depressed, in particular because she had missed so much school. It was clear that she would have to resit her exams which would make it very difficult to pass.
She stopped coming to CAB meetings. Just before I left, this counselor called me to tell me that Mary had died. She had talked to the mother who said that she died and had already been buried before anyone could even be informed. Apparently, even the family was ashamed.
When I think about this tragedy, especially as I return to the states where the life expectancy of children born with HIV is nearly the same as a child born without HIV, I cry. And I do it particularly because it doesn't have to be this way. The stigma and shame connected with HIV have lessened in some areas, but clearly not where we live in Tanzania, and the only thing that seems to give hope are clubs like our Teen Club with the Youth CAB. Maybe if we had all known what was happening, we might somehow have been able to offer her more support and certainly our fabulous teens would have been by her side and helped.
I don't want likes on this post, but I hope those that read it, might be aware and offer their support in some way. There don't have to be more "Marys".
This young girl, I will call her Mary, though that is not her name, had been infected with HIV from birth. Which parent was first infected is unknown, apparently both parents were rather prominent people, although I did not know them. After her father died, life became difficult for she and her mother, a common theme in Africa. Mary was a good student and had a smile that could light up the world. It is not easy to be a good student when you have HIV-infection because you are often prone to illnesses and you have to go to the clinics at least once/month to collect your medication. Usually, you have to take an entire day just to see your medical provider and get your medicine, even without a thorough exam. Most frequently, you don't have an opportunity to even express your concerns about the way you feel, your rashes, your headaches or fevers. The drill is to get there early, wait until your name is called, and to get your medicine.
Indeed, if you are a young girl and are totally ashamed about your illness, and definitely don't want anyone you know to see you, your pattern is to sneak into the CTC, mumble that you need your medicine, and scurry out as quickly as possible. You don't want donors to come to the school and single you out as one of the "AIDS Victims" who are getting their school fees paid by well meaning Mzungus (white people) because you are likely to be teased by everyone including possibly the teacher after the well meaning mzungu leaves.
This was the case with Mary. Her saving grace was that she belonged to our Moshi Community Advisory Board (CAB), where quite a few other young people attended, some of whom were also HIV-infected. The common theme among them was that it didn't matter. The whole board accepted everyone, and in particular the Teenagers held a special bond. But, things did not go well for Mary. Her mother became ill and she had to miss quite a lot of school. Several other board members said that when they saw Mary, she didn't look well, and our fabulous Research Directors said that she was plagued with low CD4 counts. One counselor said that she was very depressed, in particular because she had missed so much school. It was clear that she would have to resit her exams which would make it very difficult to pass.
She stopped coming to CAB meetings. Just before I left, this counselor called me to tell me that Mary had died. She had talked to the mother who said that she died and had already been buried before anyone could even be informed. Apparently, even the family was ashamed.
When I think about this tragedy, especially as I return to the states where the life expectancy of children born with HIV is nearly the same as a child born without HIV, I cry. And I do it particularly because it doesn't have to be this way. The stigma and shame connected with HIV have lessened in some areas, but clearly not where we live in Tanzania, and the only thing that seems to give hope are clubs like our Teen Club with the Youth CAB. Maybe if we had all known what was happening, we might somehow have been able to offer her more support and certainly our fabulous teens would have been by her side and helped.
I don't want likes on this post, but I hope those that read it, might be aware and offer their support in some way. There don't have to be more "Marys".
