This is a speech I made at the CD release party for Kim Thiessen’s new Christmas CD for the MCC “Generations at Risk” project. This project raised $100 million for HIV/AIDS last year and they asked me to talk about my personal experiences with this pandemic. So in honour of World AIDS Day (December 1st) and all my friends and family in Malawi I thought I would post it here. I know I've posted it before but it's basically just a remembrance for me.
In Sub-saharan Africa there are approximately 30 million people living with HIV/AIDS. That number is equivalent to the population of Canada. In Malawi, my African home, where I lived from September 2001 to April 2002 there are 850,000 adults and children living with HIV/AIDS. In 2001, 80,000 people died from AIDS in Malawi alone. In the past year AIDS has claimed the lives of an estimated 2.4 million people in sub-saharan Africa. 2.4 million people is a lot to even comprehend – basically picture the population in Alberta, now every last one of them dies except the people within this city’s limits. But I am not here to tell you the statistics because those become mind-numbingly overwhelming. I am here to put names and faces to some of the 2.4 million that died this past year due to AIDS and bring you the laughter, smiles and dreams of some of the 30 million still living with this disease.
I went to Malawi knowing very little about what the HIV/AIDS pandemic in Africa was all about. I knew that people were dying but I didn’t know how that was going to affect where I worked and I never really understood that it would affect me personally. I worked at SASO (Salima AIDS Support Organization) where people from Salima, a small town approximately 100 km away from the capital city, could come for awareness, counseling, orphan care and home-based care. But AIDS is more than organizations too. More than statistics, more than organizations, it’s about the people.
People like Thomas Mwangupili who made me laugh every single day with his crazy antics and funny Zambian accent. He’s our accounts guy and when I taught him something on the computer he remembered it better than I did. I remember when I told him on a sweltering hot day that it was -37 degrees in Edmonton and he looked at me with all the sincerity in the world and said “You can’t go back there, you’ll die.”
People like George Kanyemba, an impish little man who always had a huge gap-toothed smile on his face. He took the information about HIV/AIDS to the outlying villages in Salima District and he always warmed the hearts of everyone he met with that huge smile.
People like Annie Zombana, a woman who spent her days taking care of others. She made sure I was fed and even dressed me sometimes when I wasn’t wearing my chitenje (my African wrap) properly. She always had her eye out for people who needed her help.
People like Nedson Timbenao, an elder in our church in Salima and the kind of person who came to my house on a Sunday afternoon to go over the scripture readings that had been done in Chichewa so that I could understand what they had said in church. The kind of man that wanted to give me a present he was sure I would like and that I would take home to Canada, a present that was far too big of a percentage of his monthly salary.
People like Goodwin Holiabu who spends his days biking around our 30 square kilometer catchment area taking care of the sick and the dying. A person that would take me out dancing sometimes so that we could both see the joy of living and tried to double me on his bicycle to get there.
People like a little baby boy named Dazeem who brought such joy to the lives of his family and especially to me. A little baby who wasn’t scared of the white girl even though she looked so different than everybody else he’d ever seen. A little baby boy that would sit on my lap as I worked on the computer and fall asleep.
People like Catherine Phiri, my African “amayi” – my African mom, who fought for everyone with courage, compassion and grace. Who was never too busy to sit with someone. . She was hysterically funny. She ran a tight ship with her all male leadership staff and stood her ground with every political mucky muck which led her straight to the breakfast table of Kofi Annan as she won the United Nations Eradication of Poverty Award for 2000. She cared for her staff at SASO, her children at the Saturday morning Children’s Corner program and everyone else that crossed her path and personified what a PERSON with HIV/AIDS looks like, she was NEVER a victim.
This is just a few of the people living with HIV/AIDS in Africa, a handful of people that have touched my life forever. I remember sitting with my Catherine having lunch at the local bottlestore. I was heading back to work earlier than she was and as I was leaving these guys were talking to her about how she was “dying” of AIDS and she turned to them and with a look of sheer determination and strong will she looked them straight in the face as only she could do and said “I am going to live to be an old woman, I am going to live to see Amanda bring my grandbabies home from Canada”. She died of AIDS on May 8, 2003 after tenaciously fighting for all people living with HIV/AIDS in Malawi and around the world. So you see this project does not just assist the children infected and affected by HIV/AIDS now but it assists my future children in having the opportunity to meet some of my friends affected by this disease. So you can see how wide the arms of love can spread if people are willing to extend their hearts. Kim has extended her heart today by sharing her music and all of you have extended yours by being here. Zikomo kwambili (thank you).