I’m not sure how to tell my story… where to begin? I’m living with HIV, which I contracted from my husband, who died without ever telling me of his status.

He left without explaining his strange and hostile attitude towards me. It all started when he began distancing himself from me until I was consumed by doubts. I watched him and soon began showering him with accusations and blame. But that did not change the way he treated me, as he kept to his room and said very little.

My husband was suffering from cancer, to which I initially attributed his strange attitude towards me. But after his death, I was shocked to find out I was infected with HIV. I felt as if my whole world was crumbling before my eyes; as if I were a drowning woman desperately seeking a lifejacket. Other times I felt as though I was falling from a great height and that a premature death was my inevitable fate.

My family’s reaction only made things more unbearable. Along with the condemnation and looks of disgust, they took away my children, saying that by doing so they were saving their lives. Fortunately, in the midst of all this, came a helping hand from a nurse who led me to a professional association that helps those with HIV receive treatment and cope with their condition.

Here I was met by a doctor who provided me with a great deal of information that I had been ignorant of. I learned how to look after my health and that of my children, joined a support group for those who were recently infected, and learned new skills to help me deal with symptoms of the virus.

And now, eight years on, I’m leading a normal life like any other person.