Ours is a culture of shame and secrecy. Since 1980 life expectancy in Africa has fallen to an average of 48 years. We have little time for shame and secrecy.
My first encounter with the carnage that is HIV/AIDS was when the neighbours; whose children I had played with and whose chicken I had chased about, died within days of each other. Mother died on Friday. Father died on Sunday.
Obviously we were shocked. When you are a child nobody really dies. They just disappear one day and fade into the refuse pit that is a child's memory. The memory of the weekend the neighbours died though has always lingered on the dermis of my mind, like spinach between my teeth. Always there, always visible.
For years after that we would sit on the steps and speculate as to the events that had preceded that fateful weekend. Armed with a portfolio of facts and graphic images from my mother's pre-1980's med school texts, we misdiagnosed and re-diagnosed the neighbours until we were burnt out.
All that was left were prognostic patterns. They were fat, then they grew thin, then they died. That was AIDS in the mid-90s for an urban child.
Years later, when everyone had either grown out or moved away and my childhood stolen by time I was reluctantly reacquainted with that same foe. Walking through homesteads in rural Nyanza I saw a society wasted and dying and a landscape transformed into one colossal gravestone where one read only of decay and destruction.
First day on the job my boss said to me, 'Assume everyone is HIV positive, including yourself.' I felt like Pandora. A struggle had begun and I had no idea what to do with the box of ills released into my world.
I don't think AIDS is a particularly impressive disease. I've seen children wasting away from cancer and witnessed the waste that meningitis can render a human mind. With AIDS though there is no respite. Mankind is made as Sisyphus; rolling the boulder to the top of the hill only for it to roll down again. Toiling uphill endlessly.
What's worst about modern life is our equanimity towards death. Funerals are big business and the best many of us can do is sigh at the thought of sitting through more perorations, always beginning ,'I haven't much to say' or 'I will tell you briefly' and proceeds to last but three hours.
Out in Nyanza funerals were our weekend do. Our big rave if you will. We went to eat and drink a nd meet new people. Every weekend without fail. It was only more death after all and everybody was too drunk on battery acid anyway to tell us who it was we were mourning.
In the aftermath of death, however, one realizes what it means to say that someone has died.
I could never accurately describe the despair I felt every time one of my students walked up to me and said, Japuong, I cannot come to school anymore. Mother is dead and father is very sick.
The fact that the economic impact of AIDS on households is so dire means that many children's chances of staying in school after their parents deaths are slim. They have to assume new responsibilities to support the family.Further,as many communities view sex education as taboo and without the protective factor of parents, many more of these children are vulnerable to STIs and especially HIV infection themselves, as well as unintended pregnancies.
When I first moved to Nyanza I could think only of how unlucky I was to have ended up in a community where there was no one my age that I might hang with. I figured I mustn't be in such a great place if all the young people thought to leave it. Like a chameleon's tongue shooting out, reality hit me square between the eyes. The youth hadn't left. They had died.
HIV/AIDS is a disease just like any other. Less severe than some, worse than others. There's no grading its deaths though, its results are no worse than any others. No score is kept in death and there are no winners. But we must accord AIDS special priority as opposed to mainstreaming it as just another disease because its effects are non-discriminate. It touches past, present and future; young and old no stone of jargon and clich left unturned. We are all affected or infected and oftentimes both.
Through the plight of the orphan the untold agony of the AIDS pandemic is made incarnate.
Due to cultural, practices, inferior education and limited economic freedom, more women than men are infected in Africa. With Africa leading the world in number of infections, I sometimes feel the weight of the world rests on my shoulders. No matter how many views I take it is my inescapable responsibility. Nine out of ten times when someone debates the demographic details of AIDS they will be describing me.
The African woman; the face of AIDS.
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The drop in life expectancy is not just due to HIV-AIDS. Part of it is the sycophantic adherence of African governments to Bretton Woods policies which caused widespread social stress and endemic poverty, which are more responsible for AIDS than sexual habits as I argued in this article here. In Nyanza which you speak of for example, the death of the cotton industry, rural-urban migration has wrought severe damage across the whole region. 90% of HIV is about poverty and the conditions it brings, so any campaign against HIV needs to concentrate more than anything else on improving standards of living.
The Millenium Village of Jeffrey Sachs' in Sauri, Yala is a great example of this, watch video here.