Laila,
This is a very touching story and I'm hoping it's a made-up story and
not a true story. It would be very sad if it were true.
All the same, I hope this girl got a chance to repeat the year at
school and passed the second time around to go to the next level. I
hope too that she's still alive today. She's such an innocent little
girl.
Courage,
Oduor Maurice
On 9/26/12, Leila Abdul <hifadhi@gmail.com> wrote:
> By Vicky Wandawa
>
> Nintey percent of young people today living with HIV got it through
> mother-to-child transmission. For fear of stigma many keep their status a
> secret
>
> The hard slap across her face got her ears ringing. She did not hear all
> the insults her tormentor threw at her, in full view and in the hearing of
> her classmates. On returning to school five weeks later, to write her
> exams, 18-year-old Angella Sengendo noticed something odd: Everyone seemed
> to tip toe around her, their faces a mixture of fear, pity and disgust,
> save for her three close friends, who were privy to her condition.
>
> One of these friends explained to her why. "On that day the teacher slapped
> you; she shouted that she pitied your father because you are a burden,
> being HIV-positive and that you should consider yourself lucky to be in
> school!"
>
> Sengendo, now 20 years old, still reels in anger as to why a teacher she
> and her father had trusted to keep silent about her status, had betrayed
> her.
>
> At the age of six, her parent's fuss over her made her realise she was
> different. "I was not like my sister and cousins. At family gatherings, I
> was the only one wrapped in ill-fitting thick sweaters and scarves when it
> got cold," she quietly says, with a faraway look in her eyes. If she so
> much as coughed slightly, that was the end of the party for her.
>
> She would be rushed to the clinic as her agemates stayed behind to play.
>
> "I started to hate the word hospital, because it meant returning home with
> lots of tablets and syrups. A week never went by without a visit to my
> uncle's hospital," she says.
>
> Sengendo was not the curious type, so she never asked her parents about it.
>
> At Kampala Junior Academy, despite the tons of medicines she had to take at
> home, school was fun. "The teachers were friendly and I made friends whose
> company I immensely enjoyed. I even took up swimming and I was a star.
>
> One cold morning, during a lesson, in P7, she suddenly felt ill. "I could
> not continue writing. I must have looked really sick because the teacher
> walked up to my desk and in a whisper asked whether I was fine."
>
> Before long, her father was driving her to hospital. She had developed
> asthma. It meant more drugs, but something else took her smile away.
>
> "I was advised to stop swimming, yet I loved it."
>
> At secondary school, life began to throw lemons at her. "First were the
> questions I never had answers to: How come your cough never goes away? Why
> do you often go home?'" she narrates.
>
> The school was located in a swampy area, so the damp conditions aggrevated
> her condition. Almost every three weeks, she was taken home ill.
>
> In S2, students started talking. She would see them in small groups,
> perhaps trying to get answers to the questions she never responded to.
>
> Sengendo became reserved. The school matron was the icing on the already
> bitter cake.
>
> "She was really mean to me, especially when I returned from home. 'What
> sort of disease are you suffering from?' she would shout, embarrassing me,"
> Sengendo narrates. Even when the questions grew louder, Sengendo never put
> her parents to task for answers.
>
> "One day, my mother picked me from school. This time however, we headed to
> an unfamiliar hospital. She explained to me that previously, I was
> attending a children's hospital but because I was now grown, I had to
> attend one for adults. I later learnt it was the Joint Clinical Research
> Center (JCRC). I remember walking in with my mother and seeing a crowded
> place with sick looking people, some in wheel chairs."
>
> Sengendo narrates that whenever she and her mother visited JCRC, some tests
> were run on her, then her mother would enter a room and leave her waiting
> outside.
>
> "When she came out, we would hurriedly walk to my father's car. It's like
> they never wanted anyone to know we were there."
>
> On one of those trips, Sengendo got into the car and sat, while her parents
> discussed something in hushed tones. "I saw papers on the front car seat.
> One of them read HIV-positive. Then, I was 14. I knew what HIV was, so I
> wondered whether it was me or my mother who had it."
>
> Sengendo still could not find it in her to ask her parents who was
> HIV-positive.
>
> In the third term holidays, seated between her parents on the verandah at
> home one evening, they broke the news to her.
>
> "They said my immunity was low and not like other children's, and that I
> needed to take vitamins. It was a blow, what I had been suspecting for a
> while was true. They said I had got it at birth. My mother had been
> involved in an accident and had had a blood transfusion.
>
> Sengendo asked about her younger sister. She was told that because by the
> time her mother was pregnant, she was already aware of her HIV-positive
> status, necessary precautions were taken and so she was negative.
>
> "Even with the bad news, a part of me was glad, that at least, my younger
> sister would not have to face the trials I was facing," she says.
>
> The following year, she enrolled in another school for S3, but the relief
> was short-lived.
>
> "A few weeks in the school and I was baptised 'the sickly one'. The
> one-and-a-half years I spent there was hell. My grades fell and even when I
> copied the notes of the lessons I had missed, it was not enough for me to
> catch up," she says.
>
> As if that was not enough, she developed migraines, which the doctor said
> were a result of a swollen sinus. Though she responded well to the
> medication, she had fallen too far behind in her classwork and had to
> repeat the class in another school. Sengendo was depressed. "I kept asking
> myself, why me? Why wasn't I like any other teenager? Why was I asked to
> repeat a class yet it was because of a condition I was born with?" she
> says.
>
> In the new school, she confided in two of her roommates. "I knew they would
> soon start asking questions about my on and off sickness. I just had to
> tell them, although my mother did not want me to do so. My father, on the
> other hand, encouraged me to."
>
> Fortunately, the girls were sympathetic. They accepted her and helped her
> when she fell sick.
>
> Her face brightens up as she says: "It was the first boarding school where
> I felt comfortable. I had fun and started swimming again. The
> administration knew about my condition and was caring."
>
> Towards her O'level exams, the migraines struck again. "I spent the night
> awake, saying to myself there was no way I was going to repeat another
> year. The administration was concerned. My father took me away for
> treatment and fortunately I was able to return in time."
>
> She managed to complete her exams without any other incidents. "The
> administration of the school was so happy for me and promised to enroll me
> for A'level." However, the school's policy on corporal punishment for wrong
> doers made her opt for another school, so she enrolled at a different
> school.
>
> At the new school, the director of studies and school matron made her
> prefect because then she would be exempted from housework and punishments.
>
> "The school was different from all the others I had been to. It was an
> interesting life, from letting us grow hair, to attending dances and
> allowing a cool dress code" Sengendo remembers. She opened up to three of
> her friends about her condition. They became close friends and none of them
> ever breathed a word of it to anyone. Sadly, Shortly afterwards, her mother
> passed way.
>
> Five weeks to the A'level exams, Sengendo was seated close to a group of
> angry girls, who had earlier been told by the director of studies to leave
> their dormitories. They were not happy.
>
> Being in a group, they hurled insults at the director, knowing she would
> not be able to tell who exactly had done so.
>
> "The school matron heard and walked in the direction. Unfortunately, I was
> seated near to these girls. When the matron reported the matter to the
> director of studies, it is only me who was singled out. I was summoned to
> her office.
>
> She did not wait for me to get in. She met me at the verandah and started
> hurling insults at me, even when I tried to defend myself."
>
> The office was in a quadrangle, so when the other students heard, they
> gathered on the other verandahs to watch.
>
> "The other girls tried to tell her that I was innocent, but she would not
> listen. She slapped me hard and continued yelling. The ringing in my ears
> was so loud, I could not hear what she was saying," Sengendo narrates.
>
> Sengendo was handed an expulsion letter. She called her father.
>
> "I had never seen him so angry. We went back the following day and the
> teacher told her side of the story, insisting I was guilty. She said all
> she would allow me do was return for exams."
>
> She says the five weeks she spent at home were hell. The anger in her would
> not let her concentrate on her studies. To make matters worse, her father
> blamed her.
>
> "There was no one at home I could confide in. The only person who
> encouraged me was my counsellor at the hospital from where I got my ARVs."
>
> By the time she returned to sit her exams, the whole school knew she was
> HIV-positive. "I felt like I was suffocating in the school. Thankfully, my
> friends who had always known my status did not change their attitude
> towards me," Sengendo says.
>
> To add insult to injury, both the matron and director of studies were in
> charge of checking the girls for any cheating material before they got into
> the exam room.
>
> "Each time I saw them, a flash of the incident would go through my mind and
> I would get so angry that I did not care what I wrote."
>
> When the results were released, she had scored only two points. She blames
> the school's director of studies and the matron for her failure.
>
> She says the top administration in different schools should take note of
> and punish those guilty of stigmatising HIV-positive students.
>
> "This should be taken seriously because the way you treat students affects
> them negatively. I am not the first and will not be the last to face stigma
> unless there is change."
>
> She believes that schools should leave it to the student to decide whether
> or not to disclose to their status.
>
> Five weeks to the A'level exams, Sengendo was seated close to a group of
> angry girls, who had earlier been told by the director of studies to leave
> their dormitories. They were not happy.
>
> Being in a group, they hurled insults at the director, knowing she would
> not be able to tell who exactly had done so.
>
> "The school matron heard and walked in the direction. Unfortunately, I was
> seated near to these girls. When the matron reported the matter to the
> director of studies, it is only me who was singled out.
>
> I was summoned to her office. She did not wait for me to get in. She met me
> at the verandah and started hurling insults at me, even when I tried to
> defend myself."
>
> The office was in a quadrangle, so when the other students heard, they
> gathered on the other verandahs to watch.
>
> "The other girls tried to tell her that I was innocent, but she would not
> listen. She slapped me hard and continued yelling. The ringing in my ears
> was so loud, I could not hear what she was saying," Sengendo narrates.
>
> Sengendo was handed an expulsion letter. She called her father.
>
> "I had never seen him so angry. We went back the following day and the
> teacher told her side of the story, insisting I was guilty. She said all
> she would allow me do was return for exams."
>
> She says the five weeks she spent at home were hell. The anger in her would
> not let her concentrate on her studies. To make matters worse, her father
> blamed her.
>
> "There was no one at home I could confide in. The only person who
> encouraged me was my counsellor at the hospital from where I got my ARVs."
>
> By the time she returned to sit her exams, the whole school knew she was
> HIV-positive. "I felt like I was suffocating in the school. Thankfully, my
> friends who had always known my status did not change their attitude
> towards me," Sengendo says.
>
> To add insult to injury, both the matron and director of studies were in
> charge of checking the girls for any cheating material before they got into
> the exam room.
>
> "Each time I saw them, a flash of the incident would go through my mind and
> I would get so angry that I did not care what I wrote."
>
> When the results were released, she had scored only two points. She blames
> the school's director of studies and the matron for her failure.
>
> She says the top administration in different schools should take note of
> and punish those guilty of stigmatising HIV-positive students.
>
> "This should be taken seriously because the way you treat students affects
> them negatively. I am not the first and will not be the last to face stigma
> unless there is change."
>
> She believes that schools should leave it to the student to decide whether
> or not to disclose to their status.
>
> --
> Karibu Jukwaa la www.mwanabidii.com
> Pata nafasi mpya za Kazi www.kazibongo.blogspot.com
> Blogu ya Habari na Picha www.patahabari.blogspot.com
>
> Kujiondoa Tuma Email kwenda
> wanabidii+unsubscribe@googlegroups.com Utapata Email ya kudhibitisha
> ukishatuma
>
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>
>
--
Karibu Jukwaa la www.mwanabidii.com
Pata nafasi mpya za Kazi www.kazibongo.blogspot.com
Blogu ya Habari na Picha www.patahabari.blogspot.com
Kujiondoa Tuma Email kwenda
wanabidii+unsubscribe@googlegroups.com Utapata Email ya kudhibitisha ukishatuma
Disclaimer:
Everyone posting to this Forum bears the sole responsibility for any legal consequences of his or her postings, and hence statements and facts must be presented responsibly. Your continued membership signifies that you agree to this disclaimer and pledge to abide by our Rules and Guidelines.
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