Living
In The Shadow Of Aids
By Florence
Namukwaya
The
Guardian
01 December, 2003
My
name is Florence Namukwaya and I am 19 years old. Our parents died of
HIV/Aids: my mother died in 1989 when I was five and my father died
two years later. After my mother died I went to live with my brother,
who died in 1996. I don't know how old he was when he died. I think
he was in his 30s. I stayed with his wife but she died the following
year. After that, I went to live with my paternal grandmother.
I have lost six
of my brothers and sisters through Aids, and two sisters through an
accident, so now there are only two of us left. I remember my brothers'
and sisters' names - Ruth, Mayega, Lugaju, Bosco, Namugera and Nabbale
- but not their ages, as I was too young to remember. They all died
within quite a short space of each other. I was left shocked and frightened
at losing so many people in my family so quickly. I didn't really understand
why they were all dying. Looking back, I realise how traumatised I was,
and worried that the same could happen to me.
My other two sisters
were called Eve and Jennifer. They were aged 15 and 17 when they died
in a car accident. I was only eight or nine but I remember feeling very
frightened, not knowing what might happen to me. I still miss all of
them so much, and I still ask - why did this happen?
I was 13 when I
went to live with my grandmother. She was already looking after eight
young children - including my sister's children and my uncle's - all
of them orphaned through Aids. Because I was the oldest I had to start
working to provide for the family, as well as finding time to study.
I also take care of my grandmother because she is old and sick. She
has high blood pressure and often has a fever - maybe malaria.
I washed other people's
clothes to get money to feed the family and the boys helped by fetching
water. We worked mostly at weekends if we could spare the time and,
altogether, would make about £1 which would have to last the week.
We would have one meal a day - one kilo of maize meal - but that wasn't
nearly enough to feed everyone.
I get up at 6 o'clock
every morning to do the household chores - cleaning, washing dishes,
fetching water. At 7 o'clock the children walk to school, half a kilometre
away. I go to a nearby secretarial college. When I get back home to
our house, which is in a suburb of a small town in the southern part
of Uganda, I start preparing supper for everyone. The children return
at 5pm and while they are waiting for their food they start working
on our crops in a garden near the house; they each have their own job
to do. After supper they do their homework and go to bed. We share mattresses
- we have six between us in our three-roomed house.
I worry every day
about what we will eat and whether any more children will come. Less
than a year after I arrived, friends and family started to bring their
little brothers and sisters who had lost their mothers through Aids,
and soon there were 14 of us. In May last year my cousin brought her
four-month-old baby, after her husband died of Aids. I looked after
her for six months and then she came and took her away.
Things were particularly
difficult around that time, especially when the children got sick and
and we didn't have enough money for medicine. I think one of the children
has Aids.
There are so many
who live like us. I know lots of other young women like me who are looking
after children who have lost their parents through Aids. And there are
lots of children who have nowhere to go and no one to look after them.
So many people of
my parents' generation have died of Aids. At first they died ignorant
of the disease and how they might have prevented others from getting
it. Now there is a lot of training designed to educate people, including
methods of abstaining, being faithful and using condoms, and also informing
people of the symptoms and what might be wrong with them.
Some ignore the
safety advice and take risks. There are still many people who have the
disease, although they may have contracted it some time ago. The incubation
period can take several years. But I worry that one day I might get
Aids too. I know there is medicine that can make people better but the
people I know can't afford to buy it.
There are at least
1.7 million orphans in Uganda. Some of these children live on the streets,
some are fostered, some institutionalised in homes and some live independently,
like the children and me. I see them as my family. I don't think about
getting married or having my own children; I'm so busy worrying about
all of them and looking after them.
A couple of years
ago, everything changed. We acquired a cow. We call her Rita. She came
from a charity and has helped solve some big problems in our family.
Everything she produces has helped us: we have enough milk for our family,
and manure to help us grow much better vegetables than before. Now we
can sell some and use the money to buy other food, school materials
and medicine. We now have twice as much money coming in each week -
about £2, on top of our own milk and vegetables. We depend for
our vegetable crop on three or four months in the rainy season, and
it has been unpredictably bad this year. But at least I am no longer
borrowing money each week.
Rita has brought
us respect in our town. She is pregnant by artificial insemination;
if it is a female, the calf will eventually be given to help another
family like ours where there are older children to help care for her.
If it is a male we will raise it, then sell it. Other families with
young children are given goats or poultry from the charity as they are
a lot easier to manage.
But there are still
so many challenges: men pester girls and offer them food or soap in
return for sex. It has happened to a number of other children but I
am tough. Having a cow means I can look after the children myself and
keep these men away.
One man from our
town said he loved me and wanted to marry me but I suspected he just
wanted sex. They say the same things to my friends. They just want to
take advantage of our situation. I don't have a boyfriend and neither
do my friends. None of them are married, maybe because of Aids and the
fact that they are still studying. Boyfriends destroy our futures, so
we need to avoid them.
I have dreams of
becoming a teacher and starting my own school. I missed being a child
myself and initially found it very difficult to accept my situation,
having to help other children all the time. But now I realise there
are lots of other girls doing the same thing. All the children go to
primary school, which is free, but before I pay for my teacher training
I need to pay for their books and pens and uniform; they also need money
for school dinners; and there are fees for secondary school. But I am
sure I will do my training eventually.
Aids is everywhere
and the threat of it affects everything, especially your relationships.
Everyone is in the same boat, and that is what draws you close to each
other. We are all young, we have all lost loved ones, we are all caring
for others, so we all support one another. But it's hard coping with
all the loss.
I worry that more
children will come to us because they have lost their parents. Of course
I would take them in. What else can I do?
· For more
information about Send a Cow, go to their website: www.sendacow.org.uk
HIV: the facts
· There are
approximately 40 million adults, including 3 million children, now living
with HIV worldwide.
· In 2001,
12 countries in sub-Saharan Africa accounted for 70% of all orphans
across the globe.
· There are
11 million children in sub-Saharan Africa who have been orphaned because
of Aids.
· Between
2001-2010, it is estimated that the percentage of children orphaned
by Aids as a proportion of all orphans will rise from 12.4% to 24%.
· At least
20 million people have died of the disease around the world since it
was first identified.
· Source:
UNAIDS, Unicef