Part II

“The subject no longer has to be mentioned by name. Someone is sick. Someone else is feeling better now. A friend has just gone back into the hospital. Another has died. The unspoken name, of course, is AIDS.”

A few weeks ago Nanny Neema told Liza (one of our roommates who has since gone back to the states) that her sister wasn’t feeing well. She was complaining of stomach pain among other ailments. Liza generously took Violet, Neema’s sister, to the Hospital. She was not surprised to discover that Violet had HIV and because of the infection and weak immune system she was also suffering from typhoid & malaria. Liza made the trip to the hospital possible by paying the cost to get to the hospital (a few dollars). In Tanzania the cost of the blood test and most medication is covered. We are told that it is not uncommon for people to not go to the hospital out of fear of what they will discover, but hiding from the truth doesn’t make it any less real. After hearing about Violet we were encouraged by the chance to get to meet her. Neema invited Stephanie, Hallie, Heath and myself over to her house. She asked us to love on her sister, but not to talk about her being HIV positive as they are not telling her family. Violet herself is a mother and a widow. She lost her husband and a baby probably to AIDS, but that was never discussed. We spent a lovely afternoon hanging out with Neema, Violet her brother Matthew, his wife, Their mother and two of Neema’s nieces Liteness and Joyce. They were precious and welcoming. After a while of being together we joined together and prayed for Violet and her health (also not mentioning AIDs by name). They then walked us all down the hill to catch the daladala to go home. As we walked down the hill Violet told Hallie and I that she was HIV positive and that she couldn’t even tell her neighbors for fear of rejection and humiliation. She thanked us for coming over and spending time with her. I lost my footing a few times as we walked down the hill and she clutched my arm closer to hers to steady me. She told us how unwell she felt and how difficult it was to be away from her children so that she could be closer to the hospital a few days a month to receive treatment. And then she said, “but God is good.” Over here in Africa I am constantly reminded of my conditional love for God. If God is my definition of good to me then God is good, but if he causes pain or suffering well then that’s a different story. I am blessed by Violet and her unswerving love of God even in the face of suffering.