17.11.05 - 19:38

(Please note: Names have been changed to protect privacy, but Aicha gave me permission to post her story. She shares it to give others hope.)

I asked Aicha to describe herself.

"I'm black!" she said immediately, stroking the skin of her arm for emphasis.

"Yes, but what, besides that? That's hardly the most important thing," I responded.

She smiled and rolled her eyes, thinking. "I'm 37 years old, mother to three children, and married legally to a Mauritanian man named Mohammed. That's important! We didn't just co-habitate. We are actually legally married."

"And that's it?" I asked.

"Yes. That's it."

"Well, I don't think so. I'm going to write in my story that you are really nice and beautiful, with wonderful braided hair. Now, I - "

"Oh wait!" she interjected. "I forgot something really important. I'm HIV positive."

"Oh," I said, not wanting to define her by her status, "that's hardly the most important thing!"

"No," she said seriously, meeting my eyes. "It is the most important thing of all."

Aicha was born to a very poor family in Cote d'Ivoire. She met a Mauritanian named Mohammed in her country and married him. She bore three children. Then, in 2002, Mohammed became very ill, and was forced to go back to Mauritania. Aicha was left with her three children, the two oldest of which she sent to live with her mother.

Then, in 2003, the war began. There was terrible, bloody violence in the streets. Women, in particular, were targeted. They were often raped before being killed. Soldiers would even cut upon the bellies of pregnant women to kill the babies inside.

Aicha fled Cote d'Ivoire with her youngest daughter Rakia, in fear for both of their lives. She was forced to leave her other two children behind, and has not seen them since. (Luckily, the war did not reach as far as her mother's village, so they are well and safe.)

When they arrived in Mauritania, they found that Mohammed was still in very poor health. Aicha asked him again and again what was wrong.

"I don't know," he would reply.

"Well, what did the doctors say?"

"They didn't say."

But Aicha finally accompanied her husband to the health center. He would not let her stay in the room as he was tested.

"What is it?" she asked the doctor as he exited the room.

"I can not tell you. It is confidential between your husband and myself," the doctor told her.

Aicha was suspicious. Mohammed and the doctor must have known what was wrong. Why wouldn't they tell her? She had dark fears about the truth.

Finally, she steeled herself and told the doctor that, even though she was healthy, she wanted an AIDS test. He didn't say anything but "You have chosen wisely."

In three days, Aicha got her results. She was HIV positive. It meant that her husband was suffering from AIDS. It meanth that very likely, her children were HIV positive. She became severely depressed.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked her husband.

"I was afraid you would panic, that you would leave me. And that I would die alone," he told her.

But Aicha is a good woman who loves her family. She did not leave him. Even so, she was so depressed that she could barely leave her bed for days, not even to cook lunch for her little girl.

Her family remained in Cote d'Ivoire and could not help her. If her husband died of AIDS, she felt sure that his family would refuse to help her. She would weaken, become sick, die alone. And no one would care for little Rakia.

After some time, Aicha was recommended to Espoir et Vie ("Hope and Life"), a charity organization that gives help to HIV positive people. She found a community of people who would support her.

I was there as she described to a staff member how hopeless she felt after discovering her status. The staff member interrupted her. "But now you have us. We are your family. We will never leave you. We will not let you be alone..."

Aicha's eyes grew bright with tears. "I know," she said simply.

Even now, Aicha does not know the status of Rakia, but she can only think the worst. But even though she knows Rakia needs to be tested, she can't bring herself to do it quite yet. "I can't leave behind that little hope [that she's negative.] I'm old. I've lived. But she... she's innocent." Again, her eyes grew bright and glossy.

Nonetheless, Aicha has hope. She is taking anti-retroviral drugs, and is still in good health. "With medication, you can live eighty years with the virus! Being HIV positive is not a death sentence!"

(But, oh, Aicha, you're not old, as you said. You have not fully lived. And the medication doesn't work forever...) Still, it's hope that's the most important thing. I could never try to take that away from her.

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