The Silent Assassin - short story...
This short story is in memory of my elder siblings who lost their fight to HIV related illness (RIP) and for all those out there in the world that have been touched by the loss of their loved ones due to AIDS.
You can never tell who has AIDS! The phrase from the popular HIV awareness campaign advertisement replayed itself incessantly in Chandra's mind as she heaved herself through the huge double doors of the hospital's entrance, wiping her tears. Her steps were heavy, her head bowed. It didn't matter that the breezes blew warmly against her saphire-blue silk-clad form. She impatiently pushed a few stray strands of curly black hair behind her ear.
She had just left the doctors office and his counsel hadn't been all that inspiring. He'd chastised her for not using protection.
"Chandra, Chandra, Chandra," he said, narrowing his eyes disapprovingly and shaking his head. "I've seen too many cases of young unsuspecting girls like you contracting HIV. The men they get it from, don't have signs posted on their foreheads. They look just like you and me," he warned.
But he wasn't telling Chandra anything she didn't already know. She knew it by heart. That, and the whole hullabaloo: the use of condoms, the necessary frequent HIV tests and the prevalence with which HIV tests among young people nationally turn out positive.
"Uganda is one of the few African countries where rates of HIV infection have declined, and it is seen as a rare example of success in a continent facing a severe AIDS crisis. Uganda's policies are credited with helping to bring adult HIV prevalence (the proportion of adults living with HIV) down from around 15% in the early 1990s to around 5% in 2001. At the end of 2005, UNAIDS estimates that 6.7% of adults had the virus. The country is seen as having implemented a well-timed and successful public education campaign." Chandra recalled from an opening statement on HIV in Uganda. http://www.avert.org/aidsuganda.htm
But theory is often quite different from reality - especially the reality of finding love. Chandra rationalised mentally. As she walked towards the hardware store to pick up a length of rope, her mind drifted to her boyfriend, Akim.
She had found "the one". He was handsome, intelligent and talented and unlike so many deadbeat men - well, at least those she knew - Akim had a goal. But that's not what had won her over. It was his sincerity, his sensitivity, the way he opened up to her about almost everything - his past relationships, his future plans, his love for her.
He was the one. Chandra was sure of it and she wanted to let him know how she really felt. She wanted to show him. She was going to show him.
Condoms? The thought had crossed her mind - fleetingly. She knew Akim. She'd been with him for an entire year. She trusted him. She always practiced the rhythm method so she was safe in that regard and she'd hae known by now if Akim was sick! Besides, why spoil a good night with a request like that? That would only prove to him that she didn't trust him - and she did.
She couldn't have found a better guy. They moved in together and had even fit into a comfortable routine. They organised their individual schedules so that their free time would always coincide. She was happy and nothing really bothered her - except one seemingly insignificant detail.
A few months after she had first slept with Akim, Chandra notices a slight discharge in her underwear. "Another yeast infection," she'd thought. But this one was different. Slightly worried, she voiced her thoughts to Akim, but he wasn't as supportive as she'd imagined. "I bet it's nothing to worry about. Give it a few days." She did, but it didn't get any better. In fact, it was getting worse. And the more she told Akim about it, the more upset he got.
"You are paranoid!" he said. Ther is nothing wrong with you. What are you saying, that I gave you something?"
That's not what I mean," she tried to explain. But that very day, to ease her mind, she scheduled an appointment with her gynaecologist.
"I never asked him to take an HIV test," she answered in response to her doctor's questions as he prepared to extract a blood sample."I mentioned it once, but there was never any real urgency to get it done."
She winced as the syringe pierced her skin. Damn the pain.She'd always had a phobia for needles and those were huge compared to the ones she'd used to do up Akim's torn pockets and missing buttons. The doctor's presence calmed her. In a few hours, she'd know what the problem was.
"It doesn't look good," Dr Shuram told her when she was back in his office later that afternoon, startling her. "Your blood tests revealed Chlamydia. That accounts for the discharge." She knew what that was. One of the disease that come if you play with fire was how the medical encyclopedia had put it. But that was curable. She let out a sigh of relief.
"We also found HIV antibodies in your blood." Chandra's eyes flew open. She caught her breath.
"Now, I don't want you to be alarmed," Dr Shuram tried to calm her. But Chandra couldn't hear him. She had broken down into a torrent of tears. Sobs racked her body. But it was too late for regrets. Chandra knew. She had come face to face with harsh reality. Akim probably wasn't even aware of his condition. But she couldn't think of Akim now. AIDS was her problem. How would she face her friends, her parents? Her life as she knew it was shattered. How was she going to live with AIDS? The answer suddenly came.
She left Dr Shurami's office, promising she would give him a call in the morning to reasure him she was fine. But she wasn't going to. She wasn't about to become another statistic or a burden on anyone for that matter. She didn't have to live with AIDS.
The sales attendant at the hardware store broke into her thoughts.
"Can I help?"
"Six feet of rope, please," she order, her mouth set in a grim line of resolve. The way she saw it, suicide was her only option.
Names of characters are all fictional, but the accounts are facts.
According to Beckerman, 1995, persons infected with HIV are seven times more likely to attempt suicide compared to their non-infected peers, preferring death rather than the physical and emotional torment of life with AIDS.