HIV 1

Today I (Jim) made a trip down to the valley floor to a town called Maai Mahiu.  It's located just below Kijabe and serves as a truck stop on the highway to Nakuru and to Uganda beyond.  For a while, we have been working with a Kenyan named Zack who is trying to find creative ways to help families struggling with HIV.   Once a month, Zack collects funds to buy maize and beans to serve a meal for around 20 families struggling with HIV.  On our trip today, I was finally going to meet a handful of them.  Today and tomorrow I will attempt to share some of my reflections on the experience.

The day began with a ride by piki (motorcycle) to the valley floor..  Most rides in Kenya are white-knuckle affairs as drivers negotiate crowds of people, sheep, goats, bicycles, cows, donkey carts and other diesel-belching vehicles.  This ride had none of that - the road is far too rough for crowds in transit - but was still a white-knuckle affair as we raced down a pretty gnarly 4WD road to the valley floor, on a cheap Chinese road bike, me trying desperately to land on the seat instead of the metal luggage rack but still glad enough of sticking a landing on the metal rack after the largest bumps.  The ride took 15 minutes which, in hindsight, is scary.

Once in Maai Mahiu (which has all the charm of a truck-stop - Kenyan style) we bought 45 kilograms of maize and hired another piki to deliver it about a mile out of town where Zack had arranged to meet 5 of the twenty HIV positive women he helps on a regular basis.

We are enthusiastically greeted by a woman named Nelly who invites us into her home.  We sit in the wooden shack on wrought-iron 'couches' waiting for the others to arrive - me puzzling over the antique hutch sitting against one wall obviously imported from Europe during the days of British Colonialization, them speaking in Swahili and Kikuyu.  I'm wondering what it will be like to meet these women; then wondering what it would be like to be diagnosed HIV positive and wonder how long you'll be able to hang on.

My thoughts turn to a more personal vein: Will they serve me chai?  Will it be boiled?  Should I drink it?  I don't want another stomach bug.  These 'couches' are really painful.  I'm not sure which is better: the piki rack or the couch?  How in the world did that hutch find its way HERE?

There was no chai.  All five women (Nelly, Leah, Mary, Jane, and Shiroh) were very grateful for the maize - a few days worth.  I was surprised by something:

I expected to see women who were the victims of poor choices, but I think the notion that it was going to be THEIR poor choice tainted my expectations.  I expected younger women who were never able to establish themselves before their lives were altered drastically by the consequences of a single bad decision.  Perhaps one of them fit that mold, maybe two.  But the thing that surprised me most was that three were older women; wrinkled skin, stooped shoulders, toes splayed, even signs of grey hair which, for Kenyans, indicates someone much older than me.  These women already had families, probably several kids and most likely, they are suffering from a husband's poor choice.  It's probably not their fault.

The visit ends on a tense note.  These women visit the hospital every Friday for Anti-Retro-Virals (ARVs).  These medications can temporarily slow or prevent the progression of HIV to AIDS.  Rumor has it, the hospital has had problems obtaining the weekly ration of ARVs.  Questions show plainly on their faces.  The fear is palpable.  When life is such a tenuous thread...

My mind is full of questions: How do we bring these women hope?  What about the kids?  Their future?  How do you help them?  What if it were me?  Would I be so joyful?  What kind of a god allows these things to happen?  If that were me, would I have faith?