The ManicaPost
Cathrine Murombedzi Post Correspondent
“TO say I remember how many times I had tuberculosis (TB) is not true. How many times I got bedridden also plays like a horror movie. It was a daily living. It was either I was taking a handful of tablets or I had my bottom riddled with jabs,” diary of a young mother born HIV positive in 1987, reads.
Enita Kwaramba is a healthy mother of an equally healthy three-year-old boy, Sean.
Meet Kwaramba as she walks you on her road to wellness.
“Today I am a mother of a boy aged three. He is HIV negative, thanks to anti retroviral therapy (ART). I was born on September 25, 1987, in Harare. I was the second child in a family of three. Today my elder sister, who was born HIV negative, and me live to see this day. My little sister born in 1990 did not make it. My mother bade us a sad farewell on February 1, 1997 after a long battle with TB, and my father joined her on June 9, 1997.
Hospital becomes home
The hospital was her home for many years.
“I was only nine-years-old and had been in and out of hospital since the age of three. The nursing staff and the doctors were all afraid to handle us as patients with rights like the other patients. I dreaded going to the clinic, however, it was not a choice, the clinic was our second home.
After completing TB treatment, I was well for a few months, however, with either mum, my young sister or dad battling TB, it was not long before I got re-infected. It was a cycle, a handful of tablets is what I had, not candy like other children. I lacked food to supplement the little we had. It was a mountain to climb for my dad who had lost his job. By 1995 we lived in a one-roomed ‘home’ in Dzivaresekwa, Harare, where the bedroom was the lounge, kitchen and sickbay.
Blessing in disguise
A blessing in disguise came when she was sent to live in Mhondoro with an aunt. Orphaned at that tender age was tough, however, she had a loving aunt who today is her only ‘parent’.
“With parents gone, all relatives knew we had AIDS; that is what it was called, no one was prepared to take the three of us.
‘‘My elder sister, who was HIV negative, was lucky to be picked up first, like a sheep on a market stall we were distributed. My little sister remained in the city with an aunt. I was taken by a loving aunt who lived in the rural areas in Mhondoro. The journey to Mhondoro marked a turn in my life. As an invalid, always checking into hospital for weeks, Dr Buggiana asked my aunt that I live in the orphanage during school days and come home during the holiday. Treatment adherence became better as I took medication at the prescribed times. I also had enough food at the orphanage.
Today, I remain in the community as a peer educator, an eye for wellness, a sister to the orphans at St Michael’s orphanage.
St Michael’s Hospital and the orphanage have a special place in my heart. Meet me for the second part of my new lease of life under Dr Buggiana.
RIP Dr Buggiana, I am alive and well thanks to you.
To be continued…
Feedback: [email protected]
