Yesterday, I started writing about the last two years that I lived in Malawi and the wonderful people I met along the way.  In honor of World AIDS Day today, I will continue my story about Doreen*, a colleague whom I befriended while in Africa.  Click here to read part one of the story.

Part 2: Doreen’s Story 

Earlier this year, Doreen became sick; she had all the tell-tale signs of HIV — skin rashes, small cuts that wouldn’t heal, persistent flu-like symptoms. She went to the doctor and was given a common treatment for malaria. She started to lose weight rapidly — about 20 pounds over two months — and complained of painful gland swelling. Everyone watched as she got sicker and sicker, some days barely able to drag herself into the office. No one said a thing, including me.
 
One day, Doreen’s mother called the office. Doreen had gone crazy, her mother said. She had been possessed by spirits and was acting violent. A few of my colleagues went to her house and found her delusional. Her husband had left the country that morning on a business trip; only her mother was there, trembling outside.

When my co-workers returned from taking her to the hospital, I inquired about how she was. The hospital might send her to a mental institution, one of my colleagues said. Maybe someone put a witchcraft spell on her, suggested another. 
 
She’s HIV positive, I wanted to shout. But I didn’t.  
 
Over the next two months, I watched Doreen go in and out of the hospital as she wasted away. I saw the effect of overwhelmed, and consequently unhelpful, medical professionals and spotty care - even in a private hospital. When the pain medication wore off from the daily surgeries she had to drain the wounds on her leg, I didn’t know what to do to help. I just held her hand and brought her American hip-hop music to listen to. 
 
On the brink of dying, Doreen finally had the courage to accept the positive results of her HIV test and begin the life-saving anti-retroviral medication that have allowed her to regain her weight, health, appetite, and life. I finally mustered the nerve to talk to her about her HIV status, and she has now openly admitted it to her co-workers - many of whom were supportive (though a few were not). A month ago when I saw her, Doreen looked happy and healthy. “Look how fat I am!” she said, delighted, twirling around to show me her once-again healthy frame.    
 
The culture of stigma surrounding HIV is hard to comprehend. Now back in the US, I am still confounded by its power, and how I could have fallen to silent in its grip. So as the world commemorates World AIDS Day on December 1, I’d like to pay tribute to the projects and people - here in the US and around the world - who have made it their life’s work to fight the powerful force of stigma, silence and discrimination surrounding HIV.

Want to do something to help fight AIDS, and support the millions who are affected? Here are a few great GlobalGiving projects you can support:

Help S. African women build income & HIV awareness

Fish to feed HIV/AIDS affected families in Malawi
 

*I changed names in this post for privacy reasons.

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Tomorrow, December 1, is World AIDS Day, and in observance, I wanted to share my story.  It’s longer than usual, but important to tell.  I’ll post the first part today, and follow up tomorrow with the remainder.

 Part 1: Living in Malawi

For the better part of the last two years, I have lived in Malawi, a tiny land-locked African country of about 12 million that’s sandwiched between Mozambique, Tanzania, and Zambia on the eastern part of the continent. Malawi is the world’s 11th poorest country, and 85% of its population makes less than $1 per day.

In addition to its staggering poverty, Malawi also has one of the highest incidences of HIV. Nearly one in every six people has the disease. 

When I went to Malawi, I knew the numbers. But it was still difficult to understand the personal impact the disease was having on peoples’ lives. In Malawi, HIV is many things: a disgrace, an embarrassment, a taboo, a sign of promiscuity or weakness, a death sentence. It is not yet, though, a topic for open, personal discussion - even, I learned, within organizations working to combat it.    
 
The organization I worked for in Malawi specialized in carrying out extensive HIV and AIDS education. We facilitated conversation around the disease, distributed information to rural communities, and encouraged prevention and testing. We held radio shows with local leaders discussing the topic and spoke to the media about how to best fight against the disease. 

My colleague, Doreen*, was one of my favorite co-workers, with a quick easy laugh, high cheekbones and sparkling eyes. She continually had me laughing by teasing my American behaviors (”Why do American girls need such big bags?” she would ask, looking with scorn at what I considered a quite modest purse) and my awe at Malawi’s natural beauty (”Who cares about mountains?” she demanded. “Big, tall, concrete buildings - now that is what Malawians want to see!”)

She taught me to wear a chitenje, the traditional colorful wrap-around dress of Malawian women. She introduced me to her two young sons and her husband Hastings.  But mostly, Doreen taught me how to appreciate the luxury inherent in basic things, like eating in a restaurant. One day, I took her to an Indian café - most professional workers wouldn’t dream of spending $8 for lunch - and afterwards, her eyes filled with tears at how lucky she was.

…Tomorrow, I will continue writing about Doreen, since this is not a post about my life in Malawi.  Rather, it is a regrettable and all-too-common story about the personal face of a treatable and preventable disease that kills millions ever year.

In the interim, check out these great projects featured on GlobalGiving that both support the fight against AIDS:

Help S. African women build income & HIV awareness

Fish to feed HIV/AIDS affected families in Malawi

 *I changed names in this post for privacy reasons.

Save to: