A Positive Paradise

Again, the HIV mobile clinic this week was a memorable one, and overwhelming to say the least.  I knew the village was called Nchiru and we'd be seeing lots of children, so I imagined something similar to last weeks clinic in a rented cabin.  Ai ai ai, after an hour and a half drive in the loaded up SUV, the road finally narrows to two, packed dirt peaks the tires try to stay on.  After riding through a lush, green tunnel it came as a surprise to pass through the compound gate into an expansive view of mountains, near and far.  We had just arrived at the "New Hope HIV Orphanage," founded by AINA onlus of Italy- "Italian Association of Nomads of Love."  The Polish director came to greet us and invite us for tea and bread.  Recognizing the new member of the team, he gave me an introduction to the project.  After he said that 84 children live at this site and are all HIV positive, my heart sank into this reality and my attention was gone.  Eight-four.  It was too much, yet a small portion of the country's orphaned children.  From the gates, the orphanage spread down a soft hillside, with their livestock down at the bottom.  Three different sleeping quarters and the dining hall created a "U" shape, hugging the central play area.  A jungle-gym, flowering bushes, and green grass gave the children their own safe and loving space.  Some were being wild and crazy, digging holes and riding the swings and others were laying in the grass in total peace.  So much to see but strangely it all started to blur together like a Monet painting.  The beautiful faces and flowers swirled together and I closed my eyes.  I didn't need them to feel the grace here. 
After tea we set up clinic in a room dedicated for us and the children's medication cubby holes.  Over half of the children were due to be seen so we had our work cut out!  Youngest to oldest.  The three-year-olds fluttered in and each sat neatly on a tiny wooden seat, waiting to be seen.  With no parents' hands to hold, they look wide-eyed at the buzzing line-up ahead of them, first height and weight, then another nurse to take their vitals, next the waiting chair in the corner, then on to see Caroline and I, then either out the door or on to the lab tech in another corner for a CD4 count blood draw.  Not a single child complained except when asked to describe their complaint...a rash, bumps, belly ache, etc.  Any serious complaints were brought forward by one of the seven "house mothers."  This newer generation had very different names compared to what I have noticed so far: lots of Ann's, Mercy's and Agnes, Beatrice, Glory, Valentine, Purity, Nimrod, Fridah, Moses, and my favorite, Perpetual.  Moses is one of the two HIV-negative children here.  Usually they would be taken from the home and placed in a foster home, but they are trying to construct a separate sleeping quarter for them.  Moses is only 7 months old.  He was rescued from a car accident here in Chogoria a few months ago in which the car had ended up in a river, he was the sole survivor of a matatu-full of people.  I think he was accepted because his mother was HIV+ and his status was unknown at the time.  Definitely a cutie and pretty chubby, it showed how much this disease can affect growth. 
Only a few had to get their blood drawn, at least that I noticed, none of them cried so I practically forgot it was going on beside us.  Until it was Erick's turn.  HIV+ but healthy in all other respects, his immune system was doing well with the help of antiretroviral meds.  I think they called him back after we were finished with the rest of the kids for a reason.  Four years old, gabbing away, he acted like he was the boss of this clinic and if he wasn't examining something, he was asking questions or showing you his stuffed Tiger.  The first attempt at drawing his blood was unsuccessful, the holding team was upped from 2 to 3.  He wasn't crying, he was screaming and as soon as he saw the second needle and syringe it was no longer pain that fueled his lungs, but anger.  He pleaded for them to stop, kicked, pushed the syringe away after it was already in his skin.  A third time and we were all as desperate and anxious as he.  Then he let out one last plea and I had to leave the clinic in tears.  He screamed "But I'm not sick!  Please don't subject me to another injection!  I'm not sick!"