Zainab And Other Miracles

May 17
The past two weeks have been extremely intense. Its been full of sorrows and joys. Actually the last 4 months have been consistently full of sorrows and joys. Tears and laughter. Good and Bad Days. Days with both hard and wonderful things. As Lauren Hill once declared, “I am emotionally unstable” which is sometimes what I have felt like with all that life has thrown at me and death has taken from me. Often, my feelings seem to be hanging on the edge of my sleeves more than usual. There is always a lot to process, a lot more I wish I could dive into, get involved with, people to visit, things to write, a lot more time I’d like to myself…There has been so much churning in my heart, mind and soul about different stuff, and I feel like there has been a new peace which kind of entered awhile ago. Probably based on making some final decisions and feeling happy and at peace about that, going through a letting go process, having work become more settled and plans coming together here, the deepening of new friendships, cooler weather =), the thought of seeing my family in two months, before coming back here again.

(Yes. I haven’t really announced it, but my one-year term with MCC SALT is turning into a long-term position!-I am extending for another year or so)

This update I had wanted to write a while ago because I wanted to tell more about Zainab, whom we have been taking care of since last November (2005) as part of Home Based Care and visitation for those people who are living with HIV/AIDS. I changed her name to Zana when I talked about taking her to the hospital via bicycle in December.

From a few months ago I had wanted to share about how Zainab was doing since I last wrote in December when we took her to the hospital (I put up some pictures of her being pushed on a bicycle). After that day I was pretty optimistic. We got her to the hospital, We got her the ARVs that she needed (that is anti-retroviral therapy: medicine for those with HIV who have a CD4 count below 200---a person without HIV usually has a count of 1800—this is a measure of your immunity system, the number of T-Cells you have in your system; but a person living with HIV who can get access to the drugs and take them well can prolong their life 40 years maybe).

The Tanzanian government is now supplying free ARV treatment for all those who are living with HIV/AIDS. (This has been the current policy for the last two years I believe—since 2004). I believe most of the funding come from USAID, and the ARV treatment itself comes from India. However, many places, MOST people living with HIV still don’t have access to this medication. “By the end of last year, there were 1.3 million people in the developing world on antiretroviral drugs (ARV’s), averting between 250,000 and 350,000 deaths…AIDS has infected 65 million people and killed 25 million…therefore the response is nowhere near adequate” (The Guardian Weekly).

At MCC retreat in April, I was talking to Jan who has been working at an HIV/AIDS community health program in Mugumu, Serengeti District, for the last six years. She said that they are just now getting ARVs at the local hospital. And they can only send the blood sample of 8 people each week or month to Musoma to get a CD4 test done (how you monitor the ARV). Only 8 people out of the hundreds of thousands of people who have HIV can check their CD4 in this area!

I couldn’t believe it when she told me that! With all the problems, complications, and lack of care with the ARV itself, and how desperate the situation can seem with them---it hard for me imagine not having them at all…and the totality of the devastating impact on people and families. It all blows my mind to think of people dying with no access to medicine. It blows my mind even more so when they could have it but they don’t; that it is possible, but it isn’t. That it’s taken how many years to reach some areas with ARV usage. That it still doesn’t touch the majority of people living with HIV.

Most patients I know now would most likely not be alive if it wasn’t for access to medicine (ARV’s). Because Dodoma is an urban center, they have government hospitals that now offer ARVs. They have dispensaries and other clinics which are also holding ARV medicine. Many people I know are strong, healthy, and if they eat well they stay in good health and you wouldn’t even be able to guess that they had HIV.

I know that access to these meds has been so limited in reaching the people that really need it, particularly in Sub-Saharan Africa the last 10-15 years. I remember writing a Model United Nations resolution when I was a senior in high school at Rosslyn Academy, Nairobi, which called upon the governments and pharmaceutical companies to allow the marketing and distribution of ARV medication/manufacturing at cheaper, lower prices like in South Africa, instead of protecting the drug patents of these new life-saving drugs. I remember talking in my speech that what was going on was like another slave trade. Robbing Africa of its greatest resource, its people.

I know that there are arguments about the necessity of the patents to ensure funding to further research or put money into education programs) BUT, when people are dying and can be saved….

So yeah, one of the current major problems is lack of knowledge about these facilities and that many people still don’t have access to these kinds of facilities and health services. The live too far away or they may not know they exist, or maybe most people who have HIV don’t know they have it because they are afraid to test, and wait till it’s too late when they finally show the symptoms of HIV: diarrhea, puking, stomach pains, leg pains, rashes etc for an extensive period. And for those who are far away from these medical facilities, who will spend the money they need to feed their family on a long bus trip every month? Their health has to be monitored continually so that they adhere to the medicine and see improvements or monitor bad side-effects or other opportunistic infections which will occur.

Before we took Zainab back to Village of Hope again in December, Mama Sorry and I visited her a few times. She was throwing up lots and was dehydrated, so Mama Sorry gave her some drips at home a few days before we took her to the hospital. (it must have been the weekend when the hospitals still were not open)…we would try to help feed her, but she was throwing up everything, bananas, daga, ugali… she was in a bad state…I can still remember her eating and then throwing up everything on the floor right in front of me…it was horrible. Rebecca brought a pile of dirt, dumped it on her throw up and then she would sweep it out the door…I took a picture of it. The image of her heaving everything up still is in my mind, and of Rebecca trying to assist her as she was sitting up neck and head lurched over in her white and blue sheet draped around her, but still not covering her breasts. She had suffered much weight loss and the emaciation that HIV/AIDS and malnutrition can bring on.






When we brought Zanaib to the hospital back in December, we took her daughters to the hospital so that they would know how to help her take the new drugs right. After testing her CD4, her count was 180---she was ready to start the meds. But one complication of ARV usage is that you have to adhere to them correctly, or else your condition will worsen.

That first two weeks in January when Zainab started the medicine, we don’t think that she took them correctly. Maybe, we can partly be to blame. As soon as she started those drugs, she started throwing up even more (it can take a week or longer to adjust—they are strong, its very necessary to eat well to feel alright when you are on those kind of drugs—that’s another one of the complications); so someone advised her to stop since she had only been on them for a few days. She was very sick and weak, and throwing up a lot.

Then after a week of stopping the medication---she started again. The medicine was for a trial period--only two weeks, and she was supposed to go to the doctor the first of January to retest and get more medication, but she no one brought her. I was traveling in Kenya and Western TZ at the time. And told some people to take her on that day, but that didn’t happen. It was difficult to bring her to the hospital because she couldn’t walk however. (I’m not trying to point the figure—we are all responsible in some way, and I don’t know, sometimes the attitude here is like, no hurry-no worry, which can be positive in many aspects, but can also be detrimental—leading to negligence). Or some people are unaware that taking ARV’s is serious business. You have to follow a strict schedule or you put your health in more jeopardy.

Another complication of people with HIV is that previous or current alcohol consumption is really dangerous. If many other intenal organs have been damaged including the liver, the effects of having the virus can hazardously increase.

Anyway when I got back to Dodoma we took her to the Village of Hope Clinic (Tumaini). The doctors said she needed to be admitted in the general hospital because she was too weak and dehydrated to take ARVs again and she was in serious condition, because she had stopped taking the drugs. If you start and then stop—its worse than not being on them at all. The virus can then adapt and change and taking the drugs is like poison in the body. (That’s a simplified, un-technical explanation). It may not have been a very big deal—she had started briefly and then only stopped for a short time—one doctor said she should be alright since it wasn’t that long). But Zainab’s condition was bad to begin with. She couldn’t walk. She had been sick for a long time, throwing up, constantly dehydrated and malnourished.

Joyce Bokke and Mama Sorry took her to the hospital again, while I was stuck in the office making drafts of the proposal for our program this year. Joyce said is was quite a frenzy, these Italian doctors working at Tumaini were so concerned about Zainab’s condition---she threw up in the waiting room, and immediately drew a lot of attention. The doctors kept muttering, “this is horrible, this is horrible”…because of her weak state. Then they thought maybe she must have had poor adherence to the drugs. As I said before, she had started and then was off them for a few days which led to a few weeks because when she went to the hospital the doctor said she couldn’t take anything till she was more ready physically (more hydrated) otherwise the drugs could make things worse.
Another complication to ARV’s is food.

I went to a meeting for a group of people living with HIV and AIDS in Kikuyu Area in March, and they lost two people that month, “Mungu amechukia.” They were on medicine, and ARVs are well supplied now in that dispensary----but because they didn’t have enough to eat they died. The drugs are really strong, so when a person can’t eat right, it can cause a lot of problems. There are a lot of relationships between HUNGER AND HIV/AIDS. The fact that a person with HIV AIDS has to be extra concerned with eating right, and if they are poor and hungry their health situation can deteriorate quickly. The drugs can become an impediment if they don’t have a good diet and cause severe headaches, etc, because of their mkali-ness (fierceness). The relationship too as well of people not having enough food and they are poor to begin with that they engage in risky sex to make a few dollars so they can buy some food for themselves, and their children (or their younger siblings if they are orphans)possibly contract HIV/AIDS, which can make them even poorer, as they struggle through health problems, other needs, medication to meet their needs, the school fees for their kids, and the food they need to eat. It’s a double burden, a double hardship, as Hunger and Aids can cause the other and exacerbate enough to co-opt the other, into a double loaded gun.

the ARVs should have a message on them: if these medications are taken without food and a nutritious diet, they will be hazardous to your health.

Maybe everyone without HIV should get a letter in the mail that says something like this:
Just consider that the food you are eating would also be greatly beneficial for the health of someone living with HIV. Do you realize that a very big percentage of people living with HIV in the developing world don’t have enough money to buy the fruits and vegetables that are recommended for their daily diet? Do we also truly understand that most people with HIV are so poor and its partly stemmed from their own countries incapability of employment because their countries cannot increase their economic livelihood and infrastructure due to many structural and international injustices? Do we realize that our governments Aid can only go so far? Sure people may be hungry to get food, but they’d be better off if they could provide it themselves, and take care of themselves sustainably. Aid sometimes just covers up the larger issues: structural poverty, gender inequality and powerlessness, lack of investment and FAIR economic opportunity. It also doesn’t tackle many of the roots of corruption. Of course there will be corruption in poorer countries, as poverty can breed greed, crime, corruption---so just giving aid to fix it (even with a nice package deal to try and tackle/curb corruption or withhold the money itself—can only go so far in fixing it as it only barely waters the playing field without empowering more players to actually play themselves).

Sorry, its just that the more I learn, the more connections I see from people to the systems that often repress the people.

So we first brought Zainab to the Dodoma General Hospital in January to the women’s ward to get her back to a state where she could receive the ARV treatment. Then it got more complicated again because none of her children were willing to stay with her in the hospital. Rebecca her second oldest was pregnant at the time (8 months) and her oldest Monica, it seemed couldn’t care less. At the hospitals, you have to have someone stay with you to feed you if you can’t be fed. The nurses don’t have the time to feed anyone There is a huge nurse shortage in Tanzania. Nurses are not paid very much to begin with (70 dollars a month maybe) and so many Tanzanians go to other countries to work. Esther Muhagachi who is the coordinator for the HIV/AIDS health program at the church (my boss) is a nurse at the children’s ward at General Hospital (she is still seeking to be seconded by the government to work at the church full time) She takes care of 80 children at a time with one other nurse during her shift! Unbelievable! Although I have ranted and raved at the health care system here the last few months, and been totally frustrated and said, man, if Zainab was being treated in Canada it would be a different story….I realize I can only criticize so much. The health infrastructure is not as needs Well, first Tanzania needs better economic development before it can invest more in its health and social infrastructure (where is where better economic justice, free trade, investment has a major role in uplifting the health care capability that can trickle down to hospitals taking care of their patients better, having more staff, better paid staff, increased quality of care, more medicine, more incentive to work hard etc). And Tanzania needs international investment and aid to assist in developing their national health infrastructure.

And I am not totally criticizing the hospital. I have gotten to know lots of the nurses and doctors personally and have been very touched by their care, compassion, concern and hard work. But I’ll still say, they are way over-burdened. HIV/AIDS is a major major problem and there are not enough doctors, and treatment centers to help everyone adequately. Not for HIV, malaria, TB and everything else. It’s a different world from Canada, the US, or Norway (not that their health care systems are perfect either however!) But I recently talked to someone who was saying that HIV in the US is basically categorized as a manageable treatable chronic disease…a treatable chronic disease!... that just is not the case here for most people living with HIV/AIDS---one of the reasons that make people so afraid to test is that they assume they will die soon after HIV and some would prefer to live in ignorance…but if they knew that it is possible to get adequate help and live for 40 years--that it can be a treatable chronic disease, and those services are available, if everyone knew that, would it be a different story? Would people swarm the VCT’s, clinics and hospitals?

There is still so much crap tied along HIV, including stigma and other issues that need to be dealt with. But the fact remains: there is the potential to save life (and therefore entire families) through better medicine and health care, to make the major killer in Africa a treatable chronic disease, and yet those services are unavailable to many because of the huge need/demand; or they are not demanded enough because people are afraid to know, test their status, and get medication because they have seen and heard the death blow and assume if they fall into the HIV category they are as good as dead. It is true and not true. It doesn’t have to be the case that many will die from a treatable chronic illness, but many will die because of lack of access and lack of information on the resources, or false information, assumptions about HIV/AIDS. Even though it’s normal to have HIV here, it can infect and enter anyone---there is still stigma which is another barrier to the entire process.

When we brought Zainab to the hospital the first time, she was given a few drips to keep her more hydrated, but she still didn’t eat much. And Zainab seemed very down. She was still throwing up, she couldn’t get up and go to the bathroom, she was very discouraged and depressed. She spoke little and it was written all over her face and body. After two days, the nurse said there was nothing more they could do (they hadn’t really done anything though, the doctor had maybe come by once---but no one was feeding her, she still was too thin and dehydrated to start ARVs, she was still tired and down). Joyce and I argued with the nurses for a bit, trying to really evaluate if she was ready or not to go home, or if she would be ready to receive care from the Village of Hope Hospital. The nurse said she had to be discharged. So away we went. Again there were probably at least 50 patients with two nurses in that ward.

We took her back to the Village of Hope Hospital, and they said the same thing again. She was still in really poor condition, she needed to be admitted in General Hospital again and improve a bit before they could give her medicine. By now it is the end of January and beginning of February. VOH is an HIV/AIDS hospital, treatment facility which receives its funding from catholic churches, organizations. They take care of children who have HIV and who can be admitted and stay there---all their care is free; they have a clinic for adults too; but testing is not free, and there is no ward where adults can be admitted. They have to go to other hospitals if they are in serious condition, or receive intensive, palliative care at home (if it is available).

So after the Village of Hope said she was still in no state to start ARV’s---still weak and dehydrated. So we brought her back to the General Hospital, this time we brought her directly to the HIV/AIDS clinic and her husband also came with her. That was the only time he came to the hospital to see her after that. I ended up talking to the doctor for a really long time, explaining what had happened. He was awesome, and we got her put in a more private ward which costs 1000 shillings a day (1 $). Ward 16. Still the issue was she needed somebody to take care of her, and stay with her, to feed her during meal times because again there are not enough nurses and assistants to begin with. So we asked Mama Sorry to take care of her at the hospital which meant making sure she ate three times a day (porridge or chai and bread in the morning, a meal at lunch and dinner (rice, ugali, bananas, beans). Mama Sorry agreed and began taking care of Zainab daily at the hospital. Zainab’s daughters were not able to come to the hospital because they couldn’t afford the 400 shillings (40 cents) back and forth. We did however give them money for transport and they didn’t show up those days. We encouraged them, and I understand how difficult it may have been sometimes, but, really. One other complication was that Rebecca the second oldest, 15 years old, the tallest daughter, who is very beautiful (they all are) and who has been taking care of Zainab the most, was fairly along in her pregnancy, and therefore it was impossible for her to have travel by foot. Anyway the saddest part is not that they failed to visit often, but that Zainab really needed their love and support---everyone needs psychological and social support, esp from family and especially when one is seriously ill, depressed, and anxious.

But after that first week or two in the hospital Zainab improved tremendously. We brought her milk and juice and fruits as well. Her spirits were high, she was so happy to be eating good food and sit in a nice bed…she was laughing like crazy, joking, smiling, yelling. She was radiant, clean, and happy. And she was getting plumper! I was constantly teasing her that she was getting seriously fat, and that she was going to run out of the hospital soon once she started doing more leg exercises and physical therapy…she would just laugh and say, “Leta Viatu Vypa na nitakimbia kutoka hapa!” (“bring me some new shoes and ill run out of here!”)



Mama Sorry did a wonderful job taking care of her and everyone at the hospital seemed to be falling in love with Zainab and her funny remarks. She would sit up and she had problems with her neck, which would shake a lot, but she would laugh and say she was just dancing to the music then roar with laughter. She was very charming and had people in hysterics (I wish I had a video!) She was then soon able to take the medicine after she was rehydrated and more nourished and gained a few pounds.

After about 10 days the doctor said that she could start ARVs. She started to have really low days. Actually I think she started to feel down again after she started the ARV’s----her strength seemed sapped, she had less energy, she lost her appetite more, she began to occasionally throw up her food (esp. ugali). Interesting that ARV’s--the medicine used to slow the process HIV/AIDS can make someone nauseated, when those medicines are so strong a good diet is essential/recommended. That is an unfortunate irony.

But then other days she was feeling great. But After a couple weeks I think she began to suffer from a bit of boredom too. It was sometimes hard to be there. I remember many people would walk by, Zainab’s bed was right by the door, and I used to get so mad at all their staring and stopping. And Zainab used to get tired of it too. She still wasn’t better, she was still very thin, and she couldn’t walk, and was beginning to suffer from dementia. So sometimes if she was happy or upset she would speak loudly drawing lots of attention. Everyone would stop and say pole, sorry. I think that would get really old, and only add to the discouragement after a while. If too many people bothered her, during visiting hours she would wrap the sheet around her head and wait. Then we later moved her to a separate room after awhile with more privacy.

One time I went to see Zainab to visit and Mama Sorry who was still looking after her told me that Rebecca had just been admitted into the hospital to deliver her baby. I went to go see her as she was just in the ward next door! She was lying on the bed and groaning from painful contractions. She was moaning and shaking. She’s only 15 years old. We stayed with her for awhile and then I went back to see Zainab. After about 20 minutes I walked outside again and they were wheeling her out because she had just delivered her baby! That baby came out fast. They wheeled her into the official delivery room, and I got to follow them and see the new baby. She was beautiful. And they named her Zainab!



I asked if they usually check mothers for HIV at the hospitals before they deliver, but I found out they don’t. A woman has to counseled first and then tested; there is no automatic system because by law you can’t check someone’s status and give them the results without going through the voluntary counseling part. There are some women health centers that might encourage testing. (However, I just read about this womens pre-natal care and health center which Bono visited in May in Arusha, which counsels and tests about 90 percent of the women who come through, and therefore any pregnant women who finds out she has HIV, can take certain medication to reduce the risk for her child.)

After about a month in the hospital it seemed that Zainab was starting to get more distressed although her condition seemed to be improving. She started to suffer a little from dementia. I think it was really hard for her to not see her family after awhile. That lack of emotional support I think made staying in the hospital more difficult. We again, wanted to bring her home as soon as the doctor said that she should be fine at home.

I remember one day when Zainab had had a very difficult morning. Mama Sorry called me to come and visit her. Zainab was refusing to eat and was screaming a bit. She was very confused and anxious and needed some reassurance. After talking to her for a long time she finally relaxed. We explained that we were going to get a physiotherapy doctor to help her start exercises for her legs and that she should be able to go home soon once she had been checked up physically, checked her CD4 again, and learned the exercises and the doctor thought it would be alright. There were numerous doctors looking at her though, and some said she was ready to go, and others totally disagreed.

We just sat with her that day, and she was happier the rest of the time, I gave her my radio to listen to. She listened to the music and smiled and laughed lots, and tried to drink more milk and juice. At one point I remember her sitting up, after she finished and began to smile and declared, “Mungu Yupo.” God is here.




We tried to get her more medicine to help her mentally. Often many people with HIV can suffer from psychiatric and psychological problems because HIV can influence the health of ones nervous system and the brain, causing a lot of distress. Social support is very important as well (that’s why community stigma is such a disease too because it damages the emotional/holistic health of a person) People can become extremely depressed, angry and sad. So when she did use medicine, it did help her a little bit. But I still think that she needed more emotional family support as well. It seemed a hard call, at home, we weren’t really sure if she could get good care because her one daughter who could kind of take care of her now just had her baby. Her other daughter didn’t seem to care enough to take care of her at home, nor did they have enough food, so we still thought it best to keep her there until she improved more.

The physical therapist came to see her and tried to begin doing exercises with her but soon stopped because it was very difficult for Zainab. He said she was not in a healthy mental state to progress through the exercises. She was confused and uncooperative a lot of the time from her psychological distress, lack of family support, sometimes lack of medication for her mental state, feeling sick from other medicine, wanting to go home, etc.

I think that I met almost every doctor in Dodoma through trying to assist Zainab. I was constantly running in to them and trying to get advice and counsel. Esther and I used to joke too, that we were no longer doing Home Based Care for people living with HIV/AIDS—we were now doing Hospital Based Care because we were taking care of Zainab at the hospital!

I myself got really frustrated with the hospitals and lack of care, sometimes negligence, but again, I don’t blame the doctors or nurses, although I detest that fact that some still have stigma for those patients living with HIV. As stated earlier, the health infrastructure is pretty minimal and there is a shortage of health professionals able to meet the needs of the people. Another thought to chew on---If HIV/AIDS continues to take the lives of the work force/professionals, think of the increasing strain upon the society, devastated and challenged by the threat and killing of HIV/AIDS!? Loss in hospital staff will stifle and degenerate the caring capability of hospitals and health workers/infrastructures nationwide.

Anyway, I know Zainab was lonely at the hospital. We visited her and took care of her, but we were not enough. I remember the one time that Zainab’s youngest daughter, Neema, who we will be sponsoring in our OVC program, came to visit her mom for the first time. She had been in the hospital for about a month. Monica, the oldest daughter was bringing her baby Brian to the hospital to get treated for malaria, so Neema had come along. When Neema walked in the room, Zainab was laying on a mattress on the floor since she had rolled of the bed that morning and cut the skin below the eye. The nurses moved her to the floor so that she couldn’t hurt herself again. When Zainab saw Neema she beamed. Neema knelt down and leaned into her mom, and Zainab put her arm around Neema and pulled her close and started whispering to her and she started to cry a bit because she was so happy to see her. I started crying as Joyce and I watched. She just held her there. It was the most affectionate moment that I had ever seen from Zainab.

It wasn’t long after that we finally decided to bring Zainab home. We though it better for her to rest there and some of the doctors said it was fine, as long as she could eat well and take her medicine. Honestly, there wasn’t much more they could do at the hospital or were willing to do. So now that she was able to eat, had gained weight and was on ARV’s, we decided to bring her home. However, sometimes feeding her was still a struggle. Sometimes she would refuse and we would try to counsel her. Both of the people from our church who were taking care of Zainab at the hospital were also planning to leave Dodoma so it was better to bring her home and take care of her there; and assist her daughters to take care of her. We trusted and knew Rebecca would do her best to take care of her mom, but having a child had complicated it the last two months. Now, she was more ready for that responsibility.

The day we planned to bring her home, we were trying to gather her things and clothes, most of them lay in this dirty bucket which was absolutely filthy because her excrement was in it as well. One nurse took some gloves and tried to rinse some of her clothes and put them in a bag for us. She made some comments to the other nurses as they refused to help because of nyanyapaa (stigma). All her clothes were dirty so Joyce and I bought her a new kanga. It said “Nani kama mama?” meaning “There is no one like mom.” I took a picture of her bed the day she left.



So we took her home, (this was the end of April) bought her a new mattress to replace her shambled 4 piece mess of a mattress that she had used before, we got her a pillow, medicine, soap, gloves for washing her clothes (everything we could think of ). Rebecca had just showed up at the hospital to visit her mom that same day when we decided it best to bring her home. We took a taxi and escorted them back home to Ipagala. Zainab was in a lot of pain in her neck and back, and was pretty uncomfortable the entire time. She still was not eating as much as she should because it was difficult, and she was still really suffering in other ways. Again her mental state/condition was not good.

The day we brought her home we talked to her daughters and neighbours for awhile. Joyce was outside counseling the girls to take an HIV test with their young babies. They were sort of laughing and joking about it all, and stated that they were afraid of going, and didn’t want to know, but they did agree (although I don’t think that they have gone yet). I stayed inside their tiny house with Zainab and sat and talked to her. Neema came inside and sat with her mom. Again Zainab reached out and grabbed Neema and held her close for awhile then she put her sheet over her head and tried to sleep, exhausted. We left that day, happy that Zainab was back at home, but still concerned about her health, and wondered whether she would get the care she needed and if her condition would improve.






We visited Zainab multiple times after that and each time she wasn’t doing very well. They said they didn’t have a lot of food at home so we brought more, but she also wasn’t eating very much because of her loss of appetite. I brought Ruth, a nurse who works for the Compassion Program on Friday, May 9, and she seemed really tired and thin again. She had started to throw up more, but was still hydrated and drinking water. The next day, I brought my friend Dr. Peter who works at the Mambo Poa Youth center in Dodoma, who runs the VCT located there and is involved in the preventive educational efforts about HIV/AIDS targeting youth. When we visited with Zainab, Peter said he just thought that she needed to eat more—and that her lack of food/or eating was the biggest problem. The medications were also making her very drowsy. She had started some medicine to keep her calm and relaxed but it seemed to make her extremely tired. We left, again promising to bring more food.

The next day I discovered I had malaria! And had to sit through the longest church service of my life before I went to test. Once I got the medication, I started feeling much better. And then Monday, we were busy doing food distribution. Zainab’s husband came to collect food that day since we had invited all the families we were helping in our program. Later that afternoon, John Mwita gave me a call, and informed that Zainab had died that afternoon. I was in shock. I couldn’t believe it. I just stood in the office when I hung up the phone not sure what to do. I told Mwita that I would come to Ipagala (Mwita is Zainab’s neighbour, who was the one that started to help/counsel Zainab back in November). I went to the Compassion office and told people the news. Everyone was shocked. Ruth and Margaret wanted to go with me so we left late and went to Ipagala. When we arrived the women were gathered outside with their kangas wrapped around them. We entered the house and spoke our condolences to the daughters and others sitting around. It was dark, but I could see their faces, I took Neema’s hand and she smiled at me which just broke my heart. She has a beautiful smile and she looks so much like her mom. Zainab was wrapped in white cloth and there was like a thin screen in the room separating her from the others. I remember Rebecca’s face looking solemn, broken.

Her husband had not yet arrived at home, so he had not even received the news. I had seen him earlier that day because he had come to the church to get food since we were distributing food to all the families. He had still not arrived before we left.

I also had this weird feeling though too. It’s just that she had suffered so much, and maybe now she could rest. It had been so hard for her family to take care of her (although some would argue, many of them simply neglected her). But when I went home, I couldn’t sleep that night. I couldn’t even go to Mchungaji’s house, I didn’t want to talk about it, I didn’t want to cry. I started reading Kite Runner, which is an amazing novel taking place in Afghanistan, and finished it that morning as I stayed up and got a couple hours sleep. If I wanted to distract myself from crying, it didn’t work. I wept through it all. it was so intense, but it was an incredible book; one of the most redeeming novels/ books I have ever read.

I went to the church the next morning and got busy doing some stuff. I was in touch with Mwita to find out when the funeral was. I saw Mchungaji Amos, and I could barely look at him. I went and talked to him in the office, someone had called him the night before to tell him the news, but he told me he was so sad and disturbed he couldn’t even call me to come over although he wanted to know if I was ok. And at some point, I don’t remember when, I broke down and started crying. He seems to be one of the few people I can openly cry with. He is like a father to me, and I have had to come to him for advice and counsel and prayer about other areas of life, and times when I have needed to cry the last few months.

He tried to encourage me and tell me not to cry, but I needed to. She was a friend. We had taken care of her for a long time. Joyce had left the week before, I called her and she was really sad/upset too. As I continued to let the tears fall down, Mchungaji said, “don’t cry don’t cry, Mungu Yupo.” That made me lose it even more because I remembered Zainab saying the same thing as I sat with her in the hospital that day when she had been so stressed out and then finally relaxed. I have to say the last few months from Feb to May have been really difficult. I don’t think I have gone through so many moments of depression. I have always been alright, and am enjoying and loving people, but sometimes the reality of everything hits me really hard. We can do a lot and can continue to be responsive, but to intake the totality of the devastation of HIV/AIDS and its residual and revelation of even greater problems in society/world which often puts this enormous burden which I can’t carry, which I don’t know how to handle. I am just living and working through it, and don’t have answers to some of these hard questions and moments. Suffering isn’t something you simply go through to “edify yourself and learn some over-spiritualized lesson”. It sucks. People are dying. People are stigmatized and marginalized and cast out and its wrong. Things can be dark and messy.

I took Mchungaji’s car and went and picked up Esther who was just getting off work at the General Hospital. And we headed to Ipagala for the funeral, although when we arrived they had already returned from the burial (we had been told it was later than it actually happened) and all the people were gathered around as people were giving speeches and condolences. Esther and I strolled through the crowd and sat down and listened to the final speeches. Mwita told us later that they gave a speech thanking the Mennonite Church for our caring efforts for Zainab.

Then things started to get really intense. Some of the leaders stood up and talked about how Zainab was mistreated and neglected by her family. One women said they should take over the house and kick the daughters out of the community. Someone said that a neighbour had discovered Zainab was dead on Monday afternoon, and that her daughters were laughing and joking and sitting outside at the time. A woman said that the daughters were sleeping with men, doing their “business” while Zaianb had been sick and laying inside. People were pretty angry and it was like this huge debate erupted (there must have been 100 people there). It was stated later that Monica took money that was given by the father to buy food and would disappear and do her own thing instead, so Zainab sometimes had nothing to eat. They forced Zaianb’s daughters to come outside and someone went up to Monica and grabbed the kanga wrapped around her face and shoulders and threw it to the ground so that her head just hung down, eyes downcast, as she stood in front of everybody.

At that moment, I started to cry, for different reasons I can’t even explain. I had never seen an event like this before and I gazed at Monica, I just wanted to do something, but I didn’t know what. I felt bad for her---this is a shame-based culture in some ways so remarks would reflect upon her reputation for the rest of her life. Yes, Monica could have helped her mom a lot more, but she was also very young, 17 with a child, and poor—maybe she didn’t have excuses for her behavior, maybe she did. I don’t know what her relationship with her mom was like before she got sick. They stood there and continued to condemn Monica. And then I wanted to ask a question to the audience, especially to the men (I didn’t actually ask the question but I began to wonder…) How many men sitting there had slept with Monica in exchange for money? How many had taken advantage of her vulnerability and poverty? Monica is a gorgeous girl, so are all Zanaib’s daughters. I can’t remember if it was later on or during this episode that I thought of John 6, the adulterer brought before Jesus to be stoned, and Jesus refuses saying let the first without sin cast the stone…

And then I had other questions: People seemed to be getting angry as more people stood up to condemn Zaiab’s family. I wanted ask, if people are so angry why didn’t they do something before? Why didn’t more people visit her at home and in the hospital? Why didn’t more people bring her food and feed her? If they had really cared, who had actually done anything to help???
I also began to wonder if we as the Mennonite church gave the impression that all her needs were being met/looked after which in turn disempowered the community to rise up to carry out the responsibility to care for its members who are sick. If they were complaining, then more should have been done before it was too late. Very few people came to see her in the hospital to my memory, but I could be wrong. But I guess later I felt like it was unfair to condemn Monica, even though she was her child. How could someone condemn Monica or the others if they themselves weren’t willing to visit Zainab and pitch in? Perhaps only those who tried to assist Zainab had a right to speak. We can’t condemn anyone if we ourselves lack the compassion that we use in attacking/cross-examine somebody else.

Was it stigma that held people back from caring for Zainab, including her children sometimes? Many are still afraid to test for HIV. And now I am worried. How will this death impact the community? Zainab was tested, she had started ARVs (her CD4 was still fairly high); yes she was late in getting really good treatment, she could no longer walk, she was malnourished, but I thought she was going to make it. Many people do make it when they get the right medicine, and can prolong their life—even if they are a bit late in getting help

But now, will people still be ignorant or afraid of their own status because Zainab’s death will simply reify the common belief that HIV=AIDS=Automatic Death? Will people not realize that lots of people have HIV and are doing just fine, that HIV can be a treatable chronic disease, that access is available to life-prolonging drugs, that it is better to know one’s status to be prepared and take proper precautions if one is HIV positive, eat right and that it is possible to live for more than 40 years from the time one starts medication? But no, many will remain afraid, because to most people here who have seen the devastation,having HIV/AIDS means one is soon damned to death. (Can you blame people though for this false assumption now that the world has only made these drugs free and available for the last two years in some few developing countries; while previously people had to simply watch the millions dying from AIDS related diseases every day!) So perhaps many will think healthcare is useless/pointless, people will die regardless so caring for people is also useless; or perhaps if they think all HIV positives will die, then better to enjoy life in ignorance—till its too late. That is what scares me. The lack of education and knowledge will decrease the sensitization efforts of the community. And more people dying from HIV seen in a community will increase the fear of knowing if one is positive or not.

Zainab was really complicated. She had poor adherence and nutrition, she had been an alcoholic. These things made it difficult for her to improve. But in Dodoma there are some good health services available. Lives can be saved. People shouldn’t wait till its too late to get the care they need.


We decided to encourage Neema, the youngest daughter to stay with her auntie who was willing to take her in since it may be a better environment for her to be in now.

I have many more memories of Zainab. I don’t know that I could have written everything when it all happened. I was pretty immersed in grief. But some incredible, wonderful things happened as well, which gave me some light through it all. There were three miracles that happened that same week.

The day I went to the funeral, I got a call from my friend Musa, who is the Compassion Director at our church. He announced that his wife Mama Sarah, just had a baby boy that morning! Esther and I stopped by to see the beautiful babe and give our congratulations! Musa was so excited! Its their third child! So it was nice to celebrate a miracle that day, a new human being entered the world that day into a healthy loving family.




The day before Zanaib passed on, when I was at church trying to make it through another church service with malaria, a woman came up to me after church. She asked, “Do you remember me?” She looked so familiar and yet I couldn’t place her! Then she told me her name was Janet and then it clicked. I was like WHAT?! I had met Janet last year in October when she was really sick and then she had disappeared and I thought that she had died. But here she stood before me, beautiful, healthy and shining!

She was the first person that I knew that I thought had died from HIV/AIDS. After that happened, I had heard that news, I went through this stage where I was afraid to leave Dodoma in case a patient got really serious and none of us were around to respond. I had all this fear, anxiety, and guilt that it was our fault she had died---or we thought had died. Janet first came to us when she had just discovered she was positive. She had been working in a bar for ten year. She had finished Standard 7 (like Grade 6), moved to Dodoma and started working, and later had a child, but the father abandoned her later. She was sick, she wanted counseling and assistance. She had come in the office, told her story and started to cry. Mama K counseled her and told her to take courage. I took her to the clothes room and she got some extra clothes for herself and her daughter. Her five year old daughter was named Fiustina. Her mom had come from the village to take care of her. When Janet came to us one Sunday back in October again when she was feeling worse and really sick, she arrived early to walk before the sun came out. I was preaching that Sunday in church, and she came for the English and Swahili service. After the service we took her to Mirembe hospital with Mama Kenyuko. Her friend told us that her mom had just left her and taken her daughter with her. She was alone now, abandoned by her own mother. She was admitted into the hospital for a night and then returned home. Two weeks later a friend said that she had died. (I guess they didn’t know); she had just disappeared. Thankfully they were wrong.

When I saw her, I asked what happened? She said that her mom had returned to bring her back to the village near Mivume. There she took care of her and helped to nurse her back to health. There is a really good Anglican hospital in Mivume, where she later went and was able to check her CD4 which was about 30 at the time (very low); and then started ARV’s. After five months, her CD4 had jumped back up to 150! Amazing! She had eaten well and was well taken care of. I was so glad to see her, I can’t even explain it. She was a miracle. She looked incredible, healthy and strong. And she was vibrant, laughing and joking around, like a new person. I signed her up for the Food Relief because she decided now to move back to Dodoma and was still looking for new work and didn’t have much to eat at home. We talked for a long time after church, and it gave me a radiant sense of hope. She came to the worship service on Wednesday as well and wants her kid to go to nursery school at the church. I think seeing how well she is now has been one of the biggest encouragements this year.



And then, there is another beautiful woman who entered my life awhile ago named Agnus. We recently got her sweet little three year old daughter to be sponsored under the Compassion program once we got to know her and Compassion wanted to sponsor six more kids. When I met Agnus in March, she could barely walk. She had been sick for almost half a year. The first time I saw her I went with Joyce Bokke and Baba Matthew—her relative who had come to us to see if we could help his niece (Agnus). He had come to the office one day and said his neice was sick but was not ready to go and be tested for HIV although she was showing symptoms. We advised him to counsel her to go and be tested at the General Hospital and so he took her letting her sit on his bicycle as he pushed her along on foot. Baba Matthew only discovered last year that he was HIV positive. He is around 60 years of age. He is receiving assistance through the Compassion program right now, and he and his wife are doing well. He comes on his bike from Chinoya every day to get milk from the church. Chinoya is located by this beautiful green hill about a 30 minute walk from Kikuyu.

Agnus had refused to go and see a doctor for a long time. She had been living in Mbeya with her husband and daughter, and then moved up to Dodoma to stay with her mom because she was very sick in October/November. She tried to work for awhile but then had to stop because she was too sick to leave her bed, or the house. She then later received news in January that her husband died (most likely AIDS). I remember the day we walked to Chinoya to visit Agnus for the first time.After Baba Matthew had taken her to be tested and her result was positive we decided to go see her. We walked into the house and were warmly greeted by her mom, Margaret. Then we went into the room where Agnus was laying down. The room was dark except for a small window which let in some light. We greeted Agnus and she turned over and greeted us back. She sounded very depressed. Her face said it all, solemn, sad, strained. She sat up a bit revealed her thin shoulders and tiny frame. She is 23, a year younger than me. She seemed weak and helpless. She was still very sick. She was coughing a lot, suffered from pains, and a type of STD that had been bothering her for many months; she had open sores in her genital area that was making it very painful and difficult to walk. She was also still throwing up a lot, was suffering from diaareah. She had refused to go to a doctor for a long time. It wasn’t until Baba Matthew counseled her again and said that the people at the Mennonite church including an mzungu, advised that she go be tested for HIV—then she finally decided to go.

Once Bokke and I saw her, we decided to bring her to Village of Hope hospital instead of letting her go to the Gereral Hospital. The services are not completely free at VOH, but the treatment is better, and we decided to get her the best help possibly available because her condition was not good. So the next day we told them to meet us at the church and we would take them by taxi to the clinic. They came early in the morning, again, Agnus had to sit on a bicycle while her uncle pushed the bike along from their home to the church because of her difficulty walking. Agnus also brought her daughter Neema with her (3 years old) to be tested at VOH.

Rehema and her son Paulo (who are also in our program—both have HIV) came with us that day to the hospital as well. Rehema had just taken Paulo to General Hospital and found out he had HIV. He has been suffering from TB for the last 8 months, and been in and out of school. When she came and told me in the office awhile back, she started to cry a lot. We told her we would take them to VOH---which was created especially for children with AIDS.

When we took everyone to the clinic, Agnus was subdued, silent, and depressed. It was hard for me to talk to her. She smiled grimly, and again she could barely walk due to her sores, making her very uncomfortable even when she sat. Rehema was also very down. I remember sitting on the waiting bench with Bokke when we went back with all of them the following day to pick up the results. I got the paper from the doctor’s office which said that Neema was HIV negative! We were so happy and told Agnus who also breathed a sigh of relief and praised God. Bokke was like, “thank you God thank you God!”…everyone seemed thrilled and relieved. And then I looked over at Rehema and noticed her head was down and her cloth covered her face. She was crying. Paulo was sitting on her lap. Was she crying because she had recently found out Paulo was positive, and hearing this good news, reminded her that her child had HIV? Was it guilt, was it sorrow? She wept silently. Bokke then tried to counsel her and told her to stop crying, things would be ok. Now they were both going to get good health care. Paulo’s father disappeared a long time ago, now both of them are living with her parents. There is still so much pain in Rehema’s eyes, which often makes me hard to say anything, because what exactly can I say to take all that pain away? It just sits in my head and heart and I remember her eyes. She needs healing—emotionally, spiritually, physically, please remember her in prayer. She needs work, she needs to see her gifts and talents put to use, and she needs to see Paulo improve, to be healthy and stay in school, to play and chase other kids without worrying. She needs confidence, wholeness, to be restored, complete, feel purposeful and at peace, like we all do. That day, Agnus got medicine and Paulo was checked out more thoroughly although he still needs more attention. We brought them home and returned to the church.

Agnus and her little girl Neema came to the church the Saturday I also took Dr. Peter to go see Zainab, two days before she passed away. Before I left, I sat outside with Agnus and talked while Neema shyly patted my arm and shirt and smiled. She is adorable. She had been escorted via bicycle that day and her sister had come with Neema too. Neema had to get her picture taken for the sponsorship program. We sat outside and laughed and talked for a long time. Agnus was different now, she was really funny and talked about how she wanted to go back to school (she finished Standard 5) like Grade 5, and then dropped out because of school fees. She was faring much better now that her health was improving, and she was in better spirits, although walking was still difficult.

The day after Zainab’s funeral, Agnus came to the church because I told her we could go to another hospital/dispensary Mirembe where we could get her any other medicine she needed for some of her infections. That day she walked from home to the church. It was the third day she had done so; none of us had been available to escort her to Mirembe until Wednesday. She showed up early, and I invited her to come to the morning devotion. We then set off to Mirembe and I asked if she wanted a taxi, but she refused and said she wanted to walk. She was laughing and joking the entire walk there, and although she had never been to Mirembe, she knew the directions better than I did. When we arrived at Mirembe we went to the special clinic. Mama Kenyuko met us there too. She is the head nurse of that hospital, and she is the Director of our Health Program at the church. She is an awesome lady. We went to the HIV/AIDS counseling center/office and there I talked to Eva, the head counselor. We will start referring more patients to Mirembe; things are free and accessible there, less crowded then General, ARV’s are now available there, as well as CD4 testing (they will use the government machine form General but will get the results faster than testing at General—yeah it doesn’t quite make sense but that’s the case).

I had made some chai and put it in thermos and PBJ sandwhiches and gave it to Agnus when I went to talk to the counselor to learn about their services etc. She had been laughing at me cause she was wondering why I had been carrying a big bag (as usual) and didn’t know there was food inside. Agnus got some extra medicine and then we set off again this time, she grabbed my bag and wouldn’t let me carry it. While we were walking back she asked how Rehema was doing. I said I thought she was doing alright and then asked if she wanted to visit her and she enthusiastically agreed. When we entered the house Agnus hugged Rehema like an old friend, and I was totally amazed at the general improvement of Agnus compared to when I had seen her last and how immediately encouraging she was to Rehema. She has such spirit and joy and she exclaimed how happy she was despite some of her health problems. I could tell that her joy, charisma and optimism was starting to infect Rehema, and it was a beautiful moment. I could see such potential in Agnus as a natural HBC caregiver since she was so assured and was starting explaining the medicine she was taking and giving advice to Rehema. Paulo sat on my lap and as I put my hands on his back I could feel the deep, rough rumble from his breathing from the TB. He still needs more attention. Please pray for this child’s health.

Agnus and I left and went back to the church. Agnus wanted to stay at the church and wait for the afternoon church service. She started helping Ruth pull out her extensions. Janet, the other woman who had just returned to Dodoma, also came to talk and attend the service. The worship was lively as usual. I sat with Agnus, and she was dancing like crazy. During the Shuhuda/Thanks time, Agnus got up to the front of the church, and praised God for taking care of her, she explained that she had been really sick, but now she could walk. She then sang a solo-song and danced around! I was so humbled by her passion, charisma, faith, hope and strength of spirit. I saw the real Agnus that day. I felt radically blessed and inspired by her courage, even just to get up there, and words of praise and thanks. She was so beautiful.


I talked to another friend later in the week who also deeply encouraged me. When I told him about the death of our friend Zainab, and then these other miracles/encouragements that happened the same week, he said, “Jo, you are well taken care of; we are taken care of.” I paused. What does that mean exactly? For the first time in my life, maybe I could believe it really, at least for a moment. God is greater than all our worries and anxieties and burdens, and everything good comes from Him, for our sakes he became human, he became poor and broken so he could heal us and make us whole again. The God of love, peace and shalom is here with us, looking out for each one of us who is lost, sick, in pain. The suffering servant is here and is trustworthy to heal, restore and give. He holds us. And yet, I still struggle because there is so much pain, and there is so much death—it’s hard to believe in some things and yet believing is the only thing worth holding on to. With so much pain and suffering, I can sometimes only focus on that---its not wrong to experience this pain or to feel other’s pain, in fact we are supposed to if we are restorable creatures of God—but we can’t forget the beauty, love, hope that is alive and around us. We have to enjoy each day we are blessed with---and praise God for the gifts of those around us and creation itself, as we yearn for its complete redemption one day and continual in-breaking redemption today. I guess Embracing life is part of solidarity with suffering. It is part of acknowledging, envisioning and redeeming what is good, and actively partaking in that good and extending it into the spheres that are dark, hopeless and painful in our own hearts and those around us. And when I say this I am not trying to even give some “religious hopeful message.” The truth is, if I didn’t have some kind of other hope for a new redeemed creation, and tried to reach out to all the suffering around me and the pain and brokenness in my own heart, I’m not sure I would want to exist. I wouldn’t want to even step one foot on this planet, because to know the true reality of suffering is too much for me. (And yet when I say that, I also disagree with myself, because when I think of others who are dying of AIDS, or children in Hebron who are harassed on their way to school, I think it’s a sin to selfishly want to not exist when others are suffering alone or humiliation. So even if I had no hope in something better one day, it is better to love and live anyway). But As a human being, I don’t know if I would want to be human if I couldn’t believe that things will be righted, there will be a resurrection, that if I lost a child one day, I would know I would not be separated from them forever. It doesn’t take away all the pain, but it brings some kind of peace. But this also propels me to want to live in this redemption, to work for justice and peace alongside those, whoever they are, who care enough about their human beings, their brothers and sisters to take care of them and love them however much it kills me and breaks me, and proclaim this message of hope which has relevance now and forever.



I wrote this poem for Zainab on May 11, 2006.

MUNGU YUPO
Mungu Yupo
She speaks through
a coughing throat
strangling her words
but still cannot distort
their truth

Mungu Yupo
She cries silently
struggling to sit up
sipping slowly her
glass of milk
soothing the roughness,
the pain, the hunger
she smiles meekly

Mungu Yupo
She says again
Lifts up her head
face turning to stare
out the window
while more sunlight
envelops her
tired frame

Mungu Yupo
We groan out of our own
shuddering depths
confused, numb,
eyes dimmed in
our decay
are you down here?
are you with us?
are you in us?
or hovering at a distance
watching, only watching
I scream

Mungu Yupo
Feeling sickness
in the flesh
unbinding the power
of shame
fear and misery
weeping for death till death,
suffering until it
squeezed no more
that even silence hushed

Mungu Yupo
embracing our heartache
redeeming lost beauty
falling,
like the bones
cast on the bones
that sprung back to life

We open our eyes and pray
Mungu Yupo





Here is a picture I took in December; the blog entry and story is called Solidarity.

Since the day I wrote it I kept thinking of a greater truth.
I think God is in the middle, not the just the sorrounding people. It is the picture of a suffering, weak, vulnerable Jesus. Our suffering servant. He is the one who feels shame, fear, loneliness, rejection, stigma and betrayal. The one who identifies with us, is IN us, is in our suffering. This is True Solidarity. This is Emmanuel, God with us, God in us, the incarnate presence of Jesus in the suffering of the world, IN OUR FLESH. Jesus experienced all pain or suffering we are undergoing because he felt it when he walked on earth and on the way to crucifixion. True loving tangible compassion. I caught a glimpse of a Passion film being played at an internet café in preparation for Easter. I only watched a bit, and then left in tears. seeing Jesus standing, stripped and bleeding reminded me of Zainab, whom I had seen that morning during Easter week, laying naked on the bed, crying and whimpering as we held her and Mama Sorry and I washed her body cleaning up her faeces, as she complained and sometimes screamed. She was starting to have severe psychological and psychiatric problems.

How could God show such solidarity? Only a God who can identify with and experience human suffering is a God who I can truly love. Only God who knows our pain, can bring healing and restoration to that pain. Only God who suffers with us, inside us, groans with us, is truly Emmanuel. Not just being present, alongside---which he is---but actually taking on all our suffering on himself---bringing true holistic healing and redemption. And being in us, with us whether we realize it or not. Perhaps that it’s the only comforting and yet still painful thing about facing death, sickness, injustice…it still needs the hope of resurrection and new life, and tangible experiences of the kingdom here, but at least we can pray to a God who prayed for us, broken and on his knees, with tears of blood, when he lived with us, ate with us, brought us hope, joy, embraced us, healed us, freed us, and then suffered with us---all of this to make us whole again.

This is not an argument for some kind of divinely sanctioned suffering, and therefore an acceptance of human suffering on our part. I think it just helps us not feel alone when we suffer, and realize as imitators of God we don’t leave others who are suffering alone as our God did not leave us alone but lived through it to bring the restoration of all creation.

We need to speak the truth of God’s love which is abounding, unstoppable, covenantal—not condemning or judging---no matter how much we mess up, like the prophet’s love for his wife Gomer; we individuals are called to love, love and love—helping others get on the path of redemption which we are all on. His love is forever. In the words of Hassan from Kite Runner, “for you a thousand times over!”

This whole thing has been really hard to write. Because I still have all these memories and emotions which I can’t express. And moments I can’t do justice too. Often when I feel like there is too much to say I don’t want to even try, because I know I won’t like anything I say or it won’t sound right. But, I felt it important to tell some of the story of Zainab. But its only my perspective. I am glad I met Zainab and we were able to help her and that she became a friend to us. But I am still really sad, and still think about what happened, what we could have done better, and I think about her children.

When I was really sick this month for a few days (I was cemented to my bed) I didn’t know what was wrong for the first couple days and I felt awful. It made me think what it could be like to be sick and wonder if I was HIV positive. What would I do if I had HIV? How would I react? It is a scary thing to think about. If I wasn’t careful in taking care of somebody, if my future husband or I was a carrier? I can’t totally imagine getting really sick again for a long time and I think I would freeze with worry if I thought it could be HIV + which is too common, if didn’t know what was wrong immediately. When I was sick physically, I didn’t sleep very well but instead kept thinking about people I knew that were really sick, especially one person who is not doing very well right now. In fact she was just readmitted into the hospital just recently. It was a really agonizing time, and I thought about Zainab a lot too. Remembering. Thinking of her children, especially Neema.