Emily Akinyi, "I cried that night till there was no more tears"

Emily Akinyi, 30, a widowed mother of two children, is studying towards a diploma in community development.

"In August 2005 my husband fell sick and was admitted to Mbagathi District Hospital [in Nairobi, Kenya]. When I went to visit him he was confused, his mind was not together. I had brought him food; he refused to eat and was just staring at me.

His two brothers, a sister and some friends came a few minutes later, and this is the time he thought it wise to disclose [his HIV-positive status]: he took my hand and squeezed very tight, and said to us all, 'I want to tell you people something'.

Believe me, I was in darkness: I was five months pregnant, and the people who were around took me out of the room. I heard them say 'handle her with care because she is delicate'.

After some 30 minutes I recovered [from being told that he was HIV-positive] and decided to go to VCT [voluntary counselling and testing], to confirm my status. I tested positive.

This was a shock. I almost miscarried, my senses were disrupted and I saw no meaning to life. In the evening I went to see [my husband] again and I disclosed my status to him.

He was so sorry for me, but encouraged me to have hope in life, to work hard and to take care of his baby boy and the unborn baby. He also advised me not to think of doing something bad [to myself].

He gave me his ATM card and pin number. He told me who owed him [money], and advised me to collect the debts and save them in my personal account. The last thing he told me was, 'I can't live with this virus; it is so shameful.' Then he fell asleep.

Visiting time was over, so I woke him up and told him I was going home and would see him the following day, not knowing that was our last time together. He passed away that night.

I went back to the [VCT] counsellor, who referred me to a person living with HIV/AIDS as a role model. After a chat with this person, my commonsense started waking up. I was [eventually] ... put on a PMTCT [prevention of mother-to-child transmission] programme.

After burying [my husband] - that's when I started seeing what being HIV-positive really meant: I was stigmatised, rumours of being positive were spreading from one person to another, people started avoiding me, including family members, who accused me of bringing the HI virus into the family.

I had no job, I was sick, my unborn baby was becoming heavier; I even asked God to take me to heaven. I went back for my appointment at the antenatal care clinic and my blood pressure was high; they referred my to Kenyatta National Hospital [in Nairobi] and after two days I gave birth to a 2.2kg baby.

On top of everything else my baby was crippled. I cried that night till there were no more tears. I prayed for the newborn baby to die, but she did not. I asked God so many questions with no answers.

She was taken to the nursery, where discrimination was high. I was the only one who was not breastfeeding in that room [to prevent transmission of HIV], so other mothers were asking, 'why?'

Some thought it might be HIV, so I used to sit at the far end of the room facing the other way. I was discharged after three days and went home with my baby.

I was introduced to treatment-literacy training, conducted by MSF [Medecins Sans Frontieres], a partner at the Mbagathi District Hospital. I received knowledge and came to understand that living with HIV does not mean death, and that is how I came to accept myself as a person living with the virus."

jm/oa/he