Over the past two years I have had the privilege of serving
as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Malawi for a rural hospital in the central region
of Malawi. I have had many ups and downs as you always do in life. The one
thing they tell you about Peace Corps service is that your highs are really
high and your lows are really low. But when I look at the whole thing together,
I only feel gratitude now. I want to tell a story of a girl that I talked about
once before in my previous writing. But I will just tell you the whole story
again from the beginning of my encounter of her. I met Sarah when she was
already 18 years old. She was born with HIV during the height of the epidemic
in the late 90’s. Her father died before she was born and her mother followed
in 2003. This was a time in Malawi when ARVs were still something that was not
consistently found in the hospitals. She was given to her mother’s sister, her
aunt to be raised. She was never told that she had HIV until she was 12 years
old and figured it out. She was at the borehole gathering water where she heard
the women speaking about the room number where people who had HIV went to get
their medicines. But that room number was the same number where her aunt took
Sarah every month as well. She was in secondary school at the time and in a
boarding school. She became afraid that someone would find out that she was
positive. She started throwing away her medicine in fear that the boys would
find out and tease her. While in Malawi the stigma has reduced among adults who
are living with HIV/AIDS, while children and adolescents it’s different. They
still live in fear that their peers will find out and especially if you are a
girl, you fear that the boys will find out. By the time she came home for
school vacation she had rashes all over her body combined with T.B. She was counseled,
given medication in a different bottle (disguised as vitamins) and sent back to
school. That’s when my supervisor met her and then introduced her to me. She
told me her story. By the time I met Sarah, her family was unable to pay her
school fees so she sat at home. She told me her dream of wanting to graduate
from Secondary School and become a nurse. I knew deep down inside that it was
unlikely, but I still tried to find someone to help her. Thanks to a
well-wisher, she was able to go to school. She was happy most of the time. She would
come home sometimes and tell me of her fears that people would find out her status,
but then she would go back after counseling. She came home one time and was
really emaciated. I worried, but we gave her a different diet regimen and she
improved. Some months passed and then she came home sick with T.B. again. I
knew this time her illness was different. But no matter how sick she was she
always wanted to return to school. I knew the conditions of the boarding school
were weakening her immune system; lack of diverse diet, close quarters and
stress. I tried to explain to her that it may be best that she goes to a local
school until she could become strong again. But she refused. She told me once
that ‘I don’t want to be a house girl’. At home she felt like a house girl, but
at school she was free to focus on her education only. She came home one more
time very sick. We laughed together knew that this time it was different. She
tried to return to school to write her final exams, but was turned away because
of her illness. Her mother called me one Saturday morning and said Sarah was
asking for me. I came to her room to see that she was leaving us soon. I prayed
for her, told her I loved her and said goodbye.
In Malawi when someone dies there are many different
cultural practices that take place. First the family members come and show
their last respect at the morgue. The chiefs come and give their condolences.
Then they take the body to the home village to prepare for burial the next day.
People come all day and night to sing spiritual hymns and grieve. I was not
able to go the funeral the next day, but was grateful I had the opportunity to
say goodbye to her. A few weeks passed and I was told that I needed to go to
her house to collect something from Sarah’s aunt. I arrived and awkwardly spoke
with her aunt in Chichewa about basic conversation starters. The weather,
farming etc. Then she looked at me and said in perfect English ‘I want to give
you something from Sarah’. She thanked me for the love and help I gave to Sarah.
She spoke of how happy she was whenever she spoke of me. She said in Malawi,
when someone dies they wrap the body in clothe. Then they take a piece of the cloth
and cut in it in remembrance. She told me that I should take this clothe and
wherever I go, whatever I do, always remember Sarah. Finally she told me to
never forget her and to tell her story. So this is me sharing her story.
Sarah was my friend. She liked to read the bible and talk
about the stories from the New Testament. She liked cake and liked to laugh.
This is her story.
