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| Beatrice, a couple of friends and I at her place in Mathare slums |
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A strong stench of raw sewage, crowded
tin houses, depilated roads and hoards of weather beaten faces welcome us into
the heart of Mathare slums. In the crowd, we spot Beatrice beaming with joy. She
walks towards us, her gait radiating strength, the only hint of her condition
is the slight limp on her left. Beatrice is a strong woman who has defied great
odds; being able to stand on both feet is nothing short of a miracle.
It is a Saturday afternoon, I
accompanied a couple of friends to visit Beatrice, woman who has defied death. She
leads us through a narrow street with mabati
make shift structures line on the side. She asks us to hide all valuables as we
walked past a group of 5 young men looking at us suspiciously. We later learnt
they are members of one of the dreaded criminal gangs that operate in the slum.
They run all kinds of illicit trades, cause mayhem and impose a ‘protection fee’ on all households and
business.
We finally arrive at her place on the
bank of a heavily polluted stream. It is a great house by the local standards;
complete with a broken toilet, single electric bulb and a communal tap. Never
mind water only runs on Saturday night. We all pile into her minuscule living
quarters, separated from her ‘bedroom’
by some old bed sheet. She is so happy to have visitors over and even reveals it
makes her momentarily forget all her troubles.
After exchanging pleasantries, she
begins recounting her sad life story .Beatrice is a mother of three boys. The
first and second born are in high school while the youngest is in lower primary.
Her troubles began 14 years ago when she tested HIV+ (positive).
Like
all newly tested positive people, She had to make a tough decision. Whether
keep it a secret or go public about her status. She choose the latter. A tough pick
since back in the late 90’s the society ostracized anyone who was tested
positive. News of her HIV status spread like wild fire all through the slum. In
no time, the people she used to hang out with would huddle together aside, point
fingers and call her names. ‘Ako na
mdudu’ (she is infected) they would say. Then they began segregating her. Friends
disappeared. Neighbours would whisper in hush tones whenever she passed by. No
one wanted to shake her hand worse dine with her. They believed anyone infected
with HIV/Aids was receiving punishment from God for being promiscuous.
Preachers from all over the city came
to her with all kinds of promises. They claimed all she need to do was to ‘plant a seed’ (give huge sums of money
as offering) and have faith to heal. Despite receiving lengthy prayers and planting numerous seeds her HIV status remained unchanged.
I ask about her family, with a distant
look she tells us how her mother is yet to come into terms with her condition
perhaps longing for the much-needed love. The mother claims to be busy whenever
she is bedridden and needs special care. Since she cannot bend, a selfless
woman who happens to be a neighbour helps with the house chores. Another young
man diligently refills her water jerry cans weekly out of benevolence.
When we ask why she limps, overcomed by
emotion, she breaks into tears. The ladies in our group embrace her in effort
to console. I ask about the Gor Mahia sticker on her cupboard in bid to get her
mind off her predicament. Smiling again, she tells us of her kids’ undying love
for this Kenyan football club. They are also into Tae Kwando. The youngest has
a red belt.
The eldest son studies and stays with a
family in Murang’a. The benign family took him in when she fell ill. The son
was forced to repeat a class for studying less than a month in that academic year.
He spent all that time nursing Beatrice as no one else was there for her.
After regaining composure, she speaks
about her cancer. She was diagnosed with cervical cancer in December 2011. She
has been receiving medication ever since from a medical facility sponsored by
the Medicine Sans Frontiesres (MSF) in Mathare. She is on a list of those
awaiting surgery to take out her ovaries. What frustrates her most is not knowing
when this would happen and take away the unbearable pain. Sometimes after meals,
her stomach swells. Goiter is not making things any easier. On her last doctor’s
appointment, she learnt that the wound in her uterus is now 16 cm wide and
chances of recovery are slim once it gets to 20 cm.
Before the cancer she could buy
feminine accessories like handbags, decorate them with beads before selling
them out at a profit. She would also visit other women living with HIV/AIDS
encourage them on living positively. Having been bedridden for a greater part
of the year her business has been severely affected. She can no longer work to
fend for her family or pay her bills. She now relies on well-wishers for food.
Her rent is two months overdue. Just last week the proprietor sent someone to
evict her. Sympathetic to her plight he gave her a week to pay up the arrears.
We unpack the foodstuff and toiletries
we had brought and filled the empty shelves. We then went ahead to raise some
cash amongst ourselves to settle all her overdue debts and some to revive her
accessories business. She was so gracious for this small gesture thanking us
profusely. We promised to spread the word about her condition and find people
to sponsor her children’s education.
After sharing some words of
encouragement and prayers, she walks us back to the bus stop. We board a bus
headed back to town. Waving through the window, I see tears running down
cheeks. I hope this time they are tears of joy.
You can contact
Beatrice on cell: +254725 779 728
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| mark maina |
By Mark Maina
