A happy birthday song to the face of AIDS

[Guest guest]

A happy birthday song to the face of AIDS

Tom Arocho (2006-06-29)

Inviolata celebrates life, and yet another birthday, in Kenya, where

over 600 people die from HIV/AIDS every day. This brave woman is

confronting not only her own fears, but also the expectations of her

community and Kenyan society about what it means to live with AIDS.

Life at 20 marked the turning point. For many, life would have taken

a downward spiral. But not for Inviolata Mbwavi. After going through

the usual motion of shock, fear and denial, she resolved not to let

the virus complete the hatchet job.

Fourteen years later, her steady hands aided by a number of other

hands drive the knife into the red, ribbon cake. With each cut, the

room drowns in rounds of applause. Another purple cake sits nearby

like an impatient child begging for candy.

" The purple cake represents the years I have survived courtesy of the

Almighty, while the other shaped like the red-ribbon, the years I

have defied the virus. " Inviolata says as she gets hugs from friends

and family.

When they finally break into the " Happy Birthday " it takes a

completely new meaning. It is a celebration of life made new; living

positively with HIV.

" This was the month I was diagnosed with HIV, I had just turned 20 " ,

she later tells me.

Inviolata had stepped out of teenage life with optimism. But when the

doctor waved her test-results, life crumbled. From her teenage

years she carried HIV, the virus that causes AIDS. Then, pre-test

counselling was limited and anti-retroviral treatment in the realm of

illusion.

" Nowadays I don't expect anyone who has tested positive to commit

suicide, not to go to school, miss work or simply refuse to live. If

we were to die we would have died then, but we've survived, " she says.

Life must have been a sip of hemlock, I thought.

" Invy, we love and value you… " a voice interrupts as if reading my

thoughts. It came from one of her brothers, shouting from the

furthest corner among a group of teenagers, munching a huge piece of

roasted chicken.

Inviolata stands up, her open palm gently on her heart and stoops in

appreciation, " Love you too bro, virus or no virus. " The room lights

up into hearty cheers. Love, care and support had knocked out the

wind from under the wings of the virus.

Born in a family of ten siblings, having many brothers and sisters

means an abundance of love, care and support. Unlike a number of

people living with HIV/AIDS in Kenya, Inviolata's family has outpaced

stigma and discrimination.

" Love and support from my family, friends and colleagues is the

oxygen I have been breathing for the past 14 years. "

Slightly plump, Inviolata frequently breaks into a sweetly ringing

laughter displaying a set of teeth, as white as the droppings of the

oluru bird (the white only interrupted by gaps between her teeth),

ringed-patterns on her neck staring back in coy pride- all these are

the hallmarks of African beauty.

Inviolata heads the Network for Empowerment of People Living and

Affected with HIV/AIDS in Kenya (NEPHAK). Her name is found in the

oft minimal space in the anti-HIV/AIDS diary in Kenya.

Inviolata advises for those living with the virus, birthdays call for

celebration. A symbolic defiance against a stealthy virus infecting

40 million people globally, 75% of whom reside in Africa and where

600 Kenyans die every day.

Her boyfriend, who is also HIV-negative could not attend the party as

he was away on business. But Inviolata is proud of their eight-year

relationship, despite pressure from his relatives for their son to

find a serro-negative girl.

" Marriage for me has become complicated because of the African

traditions which require that a woman be capable of giving birth. I

cannot do that without putting my boyfriend at risk. "

At one time the pressure on them was so much that Inviolata almost

broke up with her partner. But reassurance from her boyfriend, whose

name she does not want to reveal, kept the relationship intact.

She remains, however, optimistic that over time, her prospective in-

laws will change their minds and accept her as a wife. This is

especially the case because of the abundance of medical intervention

currently available in the management of HIV/AIDS.

The advent of Highly Active Anti-retroviral Therapy (HAART) has

turned HIV/AIDS into a chronic though manageable disease away from

the bare-knuckled killer it was a decade ago. This means more

birthdays for those who are HIV-positive.

" There is life beyond the virus, I don't expect those who test

positive today to stop living. "

But despite Inviolata's reassuring words, her face turns into a mask

of sadness as a shade flushes across her smooth peeled-avocado face.

After hesitation she reveals what has pierced her heart.

" There are those who still think we are children of lesser gods

because of our HIV-status. We should celebrate more birthday to prove

our determination to live to the fullest. "

The conversation had drifted to the brutal murder of a 15-year old

HIV-positive boy in Nyeri. At this point one could hear a feather

drop as everyone sat with hand on cheek (a pose reflecting deep

sadness in African context).

Weeks earlier Inviolata had led a demonstration condemning the

hacking to death of Isaiah Gakuyo by his guardian uncle. He had

driven the forked end of a hoe into Isaiah's temple, snuffing out an

already frail life. His justification? Isaiah's constant sickness

because of the virus was an unnecessary bother, he was heard

bragging. To date, he remains at large, courtesy of relatives who

harbour him, a Children's Department reluctant to raise a finger and

a community hesitant to break the silence.

" The murder is a sign that stigma and discrimination is becoming an

epidemic on its own. We still need to change attitudes towards people

living with HIV/AIDS. "

And despite the fact that the war against stigma and discrimination

is easing, they are determined to emerge victorious.

" Today it is Isaiah Gakuyo, tomorrow it could be you, your mother,

father, or your loved one. Embrace us with love… "

The burst of the mwana wamberi song jolts us out of the sad pre-

occupation. The song is sang among Luhya to celebrate the birth of

the first born. Indeed it was appropriate for Inviolata, who like a

first born in the family was leading the way in the anti-AIDS

struggle.

http://www.pambazuka.org/en/category/comment/35487

[Guest guest]

A happy birthday song to the face of AIDS

Tom Arocho (2006-06-29)

Inviolata celebrates life, and yet another birthday, in Kenya, where

over 600 people die from HIV/AIDS every day. This brave woman is

confronting not only her own fears, but also the expectations of her

community and Kenyan society about what it means to live with AIDS.

Life at 20 marked the turning point. For many, life would have taken

a downward spiral. But not for Inviolata Mbwavi. After going through

the usual motion of shock, fear and denial, she resolved not to let

the virus complete the hatchet job.

Fourteen years later, her steady hands aided by a number of other

hands drive the knife into the red, ribbon cake. With each cut, the

room drowns in rounds of applause. Another purple cake sits nearby

like an impatient child begging for candy.

" The purple cake represents the years I have survived courtesy of the

Almighty, while the other shaped like the red-ribbon, the years I

have defied the virus. " Inviolata says as she gets hugs from friends

and family.

When they finally break into the " Happy Birthday " it takes a

completely new meaning. It is a celebration of life made new; living

positively with HIV.

" This was the month I was diagnosed with HIV, I had just turned 20 " ,

she later tells me.

Inviolata had stepped out of teenage life with optimism. But when the

doctor waved her test-results, life crumbled. From her teenage

years she carried HIV, the virus that causes AIDS. Then, pre-test

counselling was limited and anti-retroviral treatment in the realm of

illusion.

" Nowadays I don't expect anyone who has tested positive to commit

suicide, not to go to school, miss work or simply refuse to live. If

we were to die we would have died then, but we've survived, " she says.

Life must have been a sip of hemlock, I thought.

" Invy, we love and value you… " a voice interrupts as if reading my

thoughts. It came from one of her brothers, shouting from the

furthest corner among a group of teenagers, munching a huge piece of

roasted chicken.

Inviolata stands up, her open palm gently on her heart and stoops in

appreciation, " Love you too bro, virus or no virus. " The room lights

up into hearty cheers. Love, care and support had knocked out the

wind from under the wings of the virus.

Born in a family of ten siblings, having many brothers and sisters

means an abundance of love, care and support. Unlike a number of

people living with HIV/AIDS in Kenya, Inviolata's family has outpaced

stigma and discrimination.

" Love and support from my family, friends and colleagues is the

oxygen I have been breathing for the past 14 years. "

Slightly plump, Inviolata frequently breaks into a sweetly ringing

laughter displaying a set of teeth, as white as the droppings of the

oluru bird (the white only interrupted by gaps between her teeth),

ringed-patterns on her neck staring back in coy pride- all these are

the hallmarks of African beauty.

Inviolata heads the Network for Empowerment of People Living and

Affected with HIV/AIDS in Kenya (NEPHAK). Her name is found in the

oft minimal space in the anti-HIV/AIDS diary in Kenya.

Inviolata advises for those living with the virus, birthdays call for

celebration. A symbolic defiance against a stealthy virus infecting

40 million people globally, 75% of whom reside in Africa and where

600 Kenyans die every day.

Her boyfriend, who is also HIV-negative could not attend the party as

he was away on business. But Inviolata is proud of their eight-year

relationship, despite pressure from his relatives for their son to

find a serro-negative girl.

" Marriage for me has become complicated because of the African

traditions which require that a woman be capable of giving birth. I

cannot do that without putting my boyfriend at risk. "

At one time the pressure on them was so much that Inviolata almost

broke up with her partner. But reassurance from her boyfriend, whose

name she does not want to reveal, kept the relationship intact.

She remains, however, optimistic that over time, her prospective in-

laws will change their minds and accept her as a wife. This is

especially the case because of the abundance of medical intervention

currently available in the management of HIV/AIDS.

The advent of Highly Active Anti-retroviral Therapy (HAART) has

turned HIV/AIDS into a chronic though manageable disease away from

the bare-knuckled killer it was a decade ago. This means more

birthdays for those who are HIV-positive.

" There is life beyond the virus, I don't expect those who test

positive today to stop living. "

But despite Inviolata's reassuring words, her face turns into a mask

of sadness as a shade flushes across her smooth peeled-avocado face.

After hesitation she reveals what has pierced her heart.

" There are those who still think we are children of lesser gods

because of our HIV-status. We should celebrate more birthday to prove

our determination to live to the fullest. "

The conversation had drifted to the brutal murder of a 15-year old

HIV-positive boy in Nyeri. At this point one could hear a feather

drop as everyone sat with hand on cheek (a pose reflecting deep

sadness in African context).

Weeks earlier Inviolata had led a demonstration condemning the

hacking to death of Isaiah Gakuyo by his guardian uncle. He had

driven the forked end of a hoe into Isaiah's temple, snuffing out an

already frail life. His justification? Isaiah's constant sickness

because of the virus was an unnecessary bother, he was heard

bragging. To date, he remains at large, courtesy of relatives who

harbour him, a Children's Department reluctant to raise a finger and

a community hesitant to break the silence.

" The murder is a sign that stigma and discrimination is becoming an

epidemic on its own. We still need to change attitudes towards people

living with HIV/AIDS. "

And despite the fact that the war against stigma and discrimination

is easing, they are determined to emerge victorious.

" Today it is Isaiah Gakuyo, tomorrow it could be you, your mother,

father, or your loved one. Embrace us with love… "

The burst of the mwana wamberi song jolts us out of the sad pre-

occupation. The song is sang among Luhya to celebrate the birth of

the first born. Indeed it was appropriate for Inviolata, who like a

first born in the family was leading the way in the anti-AIDS

struggle.

http://www.pambazuka.org/en/category/comment/35487