Aisha
Yesterday, we went to visit Aisha Juma and her family. We had gone to visit her last month, after James got a call from the village leader saying she was not doing very well. She said they needed food and wanted us to come. So, we went, with bags full of rice, beans, sugar, flour, and salt…to which she responded, “This is not enough.” It was hard to hear, especially since we had spent a lot of money buying that food and all that is needed in return is just a ‘thank you.’ But, try being in her position…it’s not enough.
Aisha and her mother, Witness, both have AIDS. They live with Aisha’s two young children in a small 2-room house made of mud and sticks with a grass roof. It leaks when it rains, and in December, we helped to rebuild their wall which had collapsed. I’m not sure if the two children are HIV positive or whether they’ve even been tested, but they show definite signs of malnutrition and skin problems that are often associated with HIV. It would not be surprising.
We found them yesterday in serious condition. Aisha and her mother look much worse than the last time we saw them. They are literally skin and bone…I’ve never seen someone looking like that. Witness couldn’t even get out of bed. Aisha’s been coughing up blood and vomiting; she may have TB, but she hasn’t been able to afford the medicine. Her pen pal sent some money for her, so hopefully she will use that to buy it. I don’t know how much longer they will last. It’s the worst feeling in the world to watch someone dying little by little, and not being able to do much about it.
Those poor kids…they are beautiful, so full of energy, with curious eyes, vibrant smiles, and laughter that tickles you to hear it. I wonder if they know what’s happening inside their house. It’s almost painful to see Aisha and her children together, such a startling contrast. You can tell that they exhaust her, but every once and awhile something they do elicits a smile from her. I watched them play outside the house with a dull knife blade they found in the road, threatening to cut each other. They can’t be more than 5 years old.
What are we to do? Aisha and her mother are dying alone in their mud house, while their children play outside. There is no one to take care of them except Aisha’s 12 year-old sister, who is supposed to be going to school, or Witness’ 70 year-old mother. They live far from town and any proper medical facility. There is no hospice where they might go to die in comfort. In fact, if they lived in a place where they could get adequate nutrition and have access to the necessary medicines, they might not be dying at all right now. But here they are, wasting away in a community that shuns them and discriminates against them…that turns a blind eye, because to die of AIDS is a shameful thing and we don’t talk about that. Yet, this is one of the most highly affected areas around, and the reality is that many people will die in this village from AIDS. Maybe even the majority, because people just keep going on the way they have been, ignoring the meaning behind what is going on inside that little mud house with the two children happily playing outside.
Aisha and her mother, Witness, both have AIDS. They live with Aisha’s two young children in a small 2-room house made of mud and sticks with a grass roof. It leaks when it rains, and in December, we helped to rebuild their wall which had collapsed. I’m not sure if the two children are HIV positive or whether they’ve even been tested, but they show definite signs of malnutrition and skin problems that are often associated with HIV. It would not be surprising.
We found them yesterday in serious condition. Aisha and her mother look much worse than the last time we saw them. They are literally skin and bone…I’ve never seen someone looking like that. Witness couldn’t even get out of bed. Aisha’s been coughing up blood and vomiting; she may have TB, but she hasn’t been able to afford the medicine. Her pen pal sent some money for her, so hopefully she will use that to buy it. I don’t know how much longer they will last. It’s the worst feeling in the world to watch someone dying little by little, and not being able to do much about it.
Those poor kids…they are beautiful, so full of energy, with curious eyes, vibrant smiles, and laughter that tickles you to hear it. I wonder if they know what’s happening inside their house. It’s almost painful to see Aisha and her children together, such a startling contrast. You can tell that they exhaust her, but every once and awhile something they do elicits a smile from her. I watched them play outside the house with a dull knife blade they found in the road, threatening to cut each other. They can’t be more than 5 years old.
What are we to do? Aisha and her mother are dying alone in their mud house, while their children play outside. There is no one to take care of them except Aisha’s 12 year-old sister, who is supposed to be going to school, or Witness’ 70 year-old mother. They live far from town and any proper medical facility. There is no hospice where they might go to die in comfort. In fact, if they lived in a place where they could get adequate nutrition and have access to the necessary medicines, they might not be dying at all right now. But here they are, wasting away in a community that shuns them and discriminates against them…that turns a blind eye, because to die of AIDS is a shameful thing and we don’t talk about that. Yet, this is one of the most highly affected areas around, and the reality is that many people will die in this village from AIDS. Maybe even the majority, because people just keep going on the way they have been, ignoring the meaning behind what is going on inside that little mud house with the two children happily playing outside.
posted by Ashley at
9:52 AM
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