Ongala Maurice

To Inspire is to Empower


Angela: An Experience of Resilience and Determination to Live

“If I was to tell everything about myself, I would write a novel of more than a thousand pages, but I just want you to have this preview…” starts the ever lovely and jovial 25-year old Angela Mutwang’ (fondly known to many as Angie), with hopes that young people of her generation will one day hear from her first-hand and witness what an experience she has had fighting to live.

12th December 2006 is a day Angela says she will never forget, not only because it’s the day her country Kenya achieved independence many decades past, but because it was also the day she began a new chapter in her life. She was recuperating from a serious illness at home in Kisumu city when she decided to take an HIV test.

Prior to this day, Angela’s mother had persistently suggested that she should take the HIV test. The reasons for this suggestion were unclear and even worrying, given that her mum is a career nurse. On several occasions, her mum said in Kiswahili: “Angela, si tupime HIV? hizi rashes zinafanana na za mgonjwa mwingine tuko naye huko kwa ward na ako na HIV” (Angela, why don’t we test HIV? these rashes on your body are very similar to those of a patient we have in the ward and he has HIV).

But Why the HIV Test?
This question would not cease lingering and nagging Angela’s inner self. Her mum wanted her to test for HIV because the kind of rashes on her skin resembled those of a patient they had in the hospital who was HIV positive. Angela however, definitely disagreed for she had just graduated from High School and had never had sexual intercourse, had never been a drug addict and had no history of rape, sexual defilement in her childhood or any known exposure to the virus. How else would she have acquired the deadly virus?

Thanking God that her mama did not force her to take the HIV test, Angela finally gave it a benefit of doubt and decided on her own to visit a testing centre. It was her first time visiting a Voluntary Counseling and Testing centre and she received straight positive result for all three rapid tests that were conducted. Angela wasn’t astonished by the result. She remained calm! Well, this could sound like fiction of sorts but in her own words she says, “…it was like I had received malaria test results. I have never understood why that horrible news didn’t move me.” She went to her mum at the hospital where she worked as a nurse and broke the news of her HIV status. They immediately went to the laboratory and she was retested and her mum also took the test. Angela was still HIV positive but her mama was negative. This cleared any possibility of having acquired the virus from her mother. The two of them sat at the hospital lounge and had a lengthy talk.

“She was witty. She told me it was as a result of a blood transfusion I had way back when I was only 2 years old, I was living with my maternal grandparents in Homabay when I fell critically ill and had to be transfused. It turned out that since then I was always in poor health. Mum had suspected the blood had not been screened. Being a nurse, the only thing she was left with was to take good care of me because she wasn’t strong enough to confirm her fears,” recounts Angela. “Mum said at the time I was growing up, HIV was so expensive to manage. It had just been discovered in Kenya and she was still a nursing student at Kenya Medical Training College.”

Back to the reality of the moment, Angela’s CD4-cell count was at 311. A normal count is in the range of 800-1600. She now felt the reality of the killer disease in her blood and was certain she was dying slowly. She felt frustrated, stressed and distressed. Something really urgent had to be done. Angela was immediately enrolled into Anti-Retroviral Therapy (ART) at Kisumu District Hospital. Whenever she went for the adherence sessions she would spend the whole time crying bitterly and asking questions that no one could logically and satisfactorily answer. As a result, Angela was referred to Tuungane Youth Centre of Impact Research & Development Organization, a youth friendly health centre which manages HIV related cases among young people of up to 21 years of age. At Tuungane Centre, her CD4 cell count was taken again and this time round, it had dropped drastically to 255. “I was even more frustrated and stressed. I slipped into depression. I knew I was dying soon,” she says.

Soon afterwards – thanks to top notch professionalism, warmth and palliative care she received at Tuungane – Angie got so well acquainted with her new family that she even got a part time job there. Earlier on, Angie had vehemently resisted her parents’ calls to take her for higher education. She thought she would but waste her parents’ fees and die all the same. This position was to change when her mum told her she would be able to access some vital hospital information and even sue the hospital where she was transfused contaminated blood, if she studied some course in college. Angie was thus convinced to join Medical School to study Medical Records and Information Technology just to revenge. She was raging with the urge to hit back. Her resentment had steadily evolved into bitterness. She was irked and was waiting for just the right time to launch the search for those who did her this injustice when she was only a little angel.

After joining Kenya Medical training College, Angela’s Christian virtues in which she had been brought up came alive. She recalls, “I joined college but in the course of my studies, I realized God had a much deeper purpose for me than revenge. He had been so faithful to me and given me life for all the years I lived with the deadly virus. Eventually, I gave up on revenging and instead focused on Christ. I made a conscious decision to live positively. Hard as it was, forgiving those who did me this injustice made me even a stronger warrior!”

Needless to mention, young people living with HIV in Kenya and Africa at large come face to face with the cold reality of stigma and discrimination, fear, ignorance, hatred and cruelty. Angela was discriminated against right from home by neighbors and relatives, friends in school and worse to imagine, even in the church. Many preferred to look at her as having been promiscuous when she was still a virgin! They didn’t care to know the moving story behind her condition.

Angela recuperating in a hospital in Kisumu

Angela recuperating in a hospital in Kisumu

Although Angela has learned to deal with the social ills she faces almost daily, she still finds it difficult to be ever taking drugs. If her mother doesn’t remind her to take medication, sometimes she won’t remember to do so. She is also poor at eating and this sometimes makes her really weak especially in the wake of drugs. Perhaps the greatest of the impediments that Angie has faced is that of access to medication in management of opportunistic infections. Many are the times she is taken ill with pneumonia, TB or other respiratory complications. One other thing that Angela doesn’t like talking about is her love life. She says she denies herself the opportunity of falling in love and sustaining a relationship. She notes this phobia must be a result of self stigma of sorts but in a quick rejoinder and with a beautiful smile, she promises herself to work on it.

My perception of myself…
Asked what she thinks about her status and her life, Angela goes completely inspirational. One could not help but marvel at what encouraging words came out of a person whose life was once rocked with self-pity, bitterness and resentment.

“God’s ways are not our ways; I am fearfully and wonderfully made,” says Angie. “God will not throw at me what I cannot bear. I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me! This I deeply believe. I also believe that knowing my status was the best thing that ever happened to me and surely, my status is a blessing to me and scores others whom I inspire to fight on.”

Over and over again Angela prayed, “Lord, let this cup pass for it is too much for me”, but only several months later she discovered for herself that she could actually manage it. She only needed the positive will, which she got. “Now it has been nearly 24 years since my infection. I am still here, still working, still living, still learning how to love,” she reflects.

Sometime back, Angela could count the number of pills she had to take in a week, 14 assorted tablets! She goes to her doctor for reviews and assures him that she’s feeling quite well. Not few are the times the doctor mutters words to himself as he rereads the latest laboratory results which show her immunity declining towards zero. Nevertheless she fights on for her Christian up bringing has taught her that God is always present with her. This thought she says comforts her and gives her much hope.

Angela is deeply pained when young people living with the virus are stigmatized an ill-treated. She quotes a story in the Holy Bible in the book of Matthew where someone asks Jesus,
“When, Lord, did we ever see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you a drink? When did we ever see you a stranger and welcome you in our homes?”

Jesus replies, “I tell you, whenever you did this for one of the least of these, you did it for me.” On a light note, Angela adds, “I still harbor a childlike desire to really see Jesus, talk with Him, and ask Him a few questions concerning my life…”

Angela admits her life has been greatly impacted by people who have stood out to show her great love and care, people who have prayed with and for her in time of need. She says these acts have not been of men but it’s God Himself who has been working through them.

“God is omnipresent,” says Angela, “He is not only in the church, but also in the person sitting next to me on the bench on Saturday, He is in my parents and friends who have shared tears with me on more than one occasion, He is in Maurice who is helping me to share my story with the whole world, only to inspire someone, and He can be in you today if you choose to do that single act of kindness to someone living with the virus!” This statement particularly got me thinking…

Angela during a past church function

Angela during a past church function

My Piece of Advice
Asked what snippet of advice she would give to young people struggling with her kind of situation, Angie again quotes from her favorite book and source of inspiration, the Holy Bible. She says, “Let your weakness be your strength, simple!” She particularly mentions the book of Romans 8:18: “For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us…”

She notes with concern that many people are afraid of facing facts and prefer only to shelve in cocoons of comfort. This she says is wrong and should be unlearnt if a successful combat against HIV/AIDS is to be waged. She says only a few people have saved a life when everyone actually has the potent to do so.

“They may not have saved a child from a burning building, neither may they have even pulled a drowning person out of the swollen river, notes Angela, “but – when so many are so afraid and even dread talking to people living with the virus – they sit next to me, they shake my hand, they hug me, you know. They tell me they love me so much and that, if they could, they would do anything to make it easier for me. Knowing people like this has made my life a daily miracle! You can save a life, too. That life may only be a few months, or a year, or two years long, but you can save it just as surely as if you had reached into the river and pulled out someone who was drowning.”
In her parting shot, Angela looks straight into my eyes and says, “You will be called upon to grieve; yet, you will know you have made a difference in someone’s life in this world. Then you will realize you have gained more than you could ever have given.”

Deep and powerful inspiration do we draw from this moving experience of one young girl living in poverty stricken, under-developed country. This is a story of resilience and determination to beat all odds and just live. Yet, as I love to do, I challenge you: have you saved a life?

Angela can be reached on the following contacts:

+254 710 711 967

Follow the author of this blog, Ongala Maurice on Twitter: @Maurytweetz


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We Live in a Post-Saitoti World

Ongala Maurice Speaks remains this real. Many are the times when the tale gets hilarious. Not meagre are the instances when you read and leave with a prize of laughter, a smile or for the tougher of you, a grin. This is contrary. Yes, contrary because we now live in a Post-Saitoti World.

J.M. Kariuki and Bruce McKenzie of old had their lives taken away at this spot. I’m also told The Late Kipkalya Kones and Lorna Laboso, some really prominent legislators in the Government of Kenya shared the date – June 10 – of yielding up their lives with this Internal Security Pair. As many of you as believe that all these are but bad coincidences, I charge to take a second consideration, this time a more objective one. This country Kenya, my brothers…

But speaking of the Internal Security Pair, to whom you will allow me to refer as ISP, could there have been something transpiring under cover? Is there anything Kenyans need to get acquainted to that is being purposefully held away from them? Or better still, how possible could this be, that the Minister for Internal Security and his equally powerful assistant could somehow find themselves aboard a chopper with ‘unforeseen’ mechanical problems? Pertinent questions round one.

Honestly the human side of me permitted me to shed a tear or two as I watched the Vice President, Mr. Wiper tell the tale of these two great men of our land and their body guards. He was struggling with tears and in disbelief paired with enormous difficulty, he almost brushed the journalists’ mics aside from his face. He chose his words with great care, yes I noticed him do. Hon. Musyoka is one composed guy in such an occurrence, you know that. Rt. Hon. The Prime Minister and his men weren’t left behind. Political rallies cancelled and their hype almost instantaneously replace with shock waves. It didn’t matter whether it was UDF or ODM, URP or TNA, PNU, the legendary KANU, et cetera; fact is all these rallies were cancelled by the very people who organized them!

But wait, before we come to terms with the painful loss of the very intelligent minister – Prof. George Saitoti and his Assistant, the very zealous Hon. Orwa Ojodeh and their security details – take a moment to ask, why did Police Commissioner Mathew Iteere and the Permanent Secretary who were also meant to be in this same flight, decline to fly at last minutes? The Captain and the co-pilot must have not foreseen any peril early enough, with all their experiences and the many missions they have carried out successfully with the ISP? I ask. Wasn’t this not a case of a too-sudden-to-be-salvaged fate? The Euro-copter AS350, was a new aircraft tested over Nairobi for one hour by the same pilot who flew it at its crash, also having clocked only 230 flight hour since purchase. How possibly credible could this crash be? Ok, why the ISP and not any other pair? If the ISP was this unsafe within the country, how unsafe are you and me blabbing on Ongala Maurice Speaks right now? Pertinent questions round two. Lots more stunning facts are in existence pertaining to this tragedy, perhaps you know some more (…).

Bottomline, I shudder. I utterly render myself feeble enough not to entertain the episodes of this movie-like country which I love. Love hurts, now I know. We love this country this much, no wonder the tears drop. Life and death in Kenya both happen really incredibly. Lord I’m too feeble to imagine this. Are we enemies of our own selves or what? Ok, I will be patient with you. From the noble writers like myself and the folks in upcountry to the elite and the political class in the cities and places of high authority; are we our own enemies? Pertinent questions round three.

Some parting lines could go like this: People never know when they give their last speeches, case in point Prof Saitoti at the Mombasa Peace Conference on Friday June 8. You never know what will be counted good of you after your demise, case in point Hon. Orwa Ojode and his loyalty to his boss and zealous debates in Parliament. And lastly, you never know when your loved ones and colleagues will be taken away from you perhaps forever, so learn to love and appreciate them while they last case in point, fellow legislators and kin of the deceased. Meanwhile the 3 day national mourning period declared by His Excellency the President ends Wednesday 13 June.

The conclusion of the matter is: we live in a Post-Saitoti World. Sad for Kenya, reality to the world.

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This Word Love

A super sophisticated theme, only maybe – this is how….

You know the simplicity of love lies in the fact that it’s only a four letter word. Very flimsy letters, if anything. Two consonants and two vowels, and that’s about all. That’s love for me, that’s it for you too, I presume. You realize love is a root word of several other lazy words like lover, lovely, loveable… the listing sickens. Not that am a pessimist, just that we make a lot of undue sophistication out of love the word that out-rightly renders itself unwarranted as we miserably fail at love the action. Be it filial, romantic or agape, miserable is how we fail.

I’m positive, somehow. Because love is a beautiful thing, an elegant word. Beautiful because it is an adjective, elegant because it is a verb. Otherwise I detest the emptiness of lip service when it comes to love. The adjective betrays the verb. It offers a scenic and colourful description of the thing. Now pick some common case instances; “when I see you smile, my heart bursts into flowers…”, “my love for you super-cedes this world and the next combined”, and what nots. Indeed, all of you should agree with me as in a chorus that the adjective is such a tale-teller, more than just a describer. The flip side of the coin however, reads treachery. The adjective love is so cunning in our lips. It’s a no partner fit for the verb love, for only one pertinent question made of four really simple English words work it down: Can you show it?

Now, enough of this chit-chat, if only I lived in this planet (or is it still one?) then I would walk miles for the verb, yes the doing word. The action word. The acted meaning. I would stand tall for it, I would defend it. Not that I’m overdoing this thing, take love the adjective and love the verb for an en-sample. The former is empty and forthwith I would banish it. It is irrelevant given the latter, for isn’t action describable? I perform an act of love and the onlookers will describe it as love. I say I love with no action accompaniment and the onlookers tag me a hypocrite. Now I’m certain you see where I’m founded.

Next time you utter this word, take an intrusive walk down your mind and establish whether it was the adjective or the verb!

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Reverse GBV in Kenya

Well, this is how I enter – not to be confused with the Madtraxx and the Skamares of this world. Today I thought we could at last face the reality of reverse Gender Based Violence in Kenya with our usual level heads and open minds.

Why Reverse?
So why reverse, anyway? Where is it inscribed that women are to suffer in the hands of men and not the other way? The answer lies in the African societal expectations seen in gender roles and made real in the African family set up. But for this Kenyan thingy, I just want your full attention please…

In Kenya, men physically assaulting their women could as well be regarded a relic of the past. Women in Kenyan cities and townships have been known for battering their husbands to the point of hospitalization, and sometimes death! Ok, this is no exaggeration just in case you think so, neither is it an inferred wayward joke. The most interesting portion is that as the women wage the battle, they do most of the screaming, wailing and yelling – you would quickly, but falsely deduce that they are the victims, when the reverse is, sadly, the case! Even more interestingly, when their poor ‘victim husbands’ get to the health centres and social gatherings with their bruise-littered, utterly damaged faces, broken limbs and/or bandaged parts they go like, ‘mmmh, eeeer, you know I had this almost fatal accident, thanks to God I’m alive…’ and all this manner of vako continues. The details of the ‘accidents’ often remain concealed, maybe only some ka-FBI could do the unveiling. I chuckle.

Now The Mamboleo Tale asks, which one sounds sexy; wife-beating up husband or the converse? Well, spouse battering is a criminal offense either way, for doesn’t it amount to domestic violence?

Conjugal Rights versus Multiple Concurrency
Apart from just being a crime, this practice heightens chances of acquiring the HIV among affected couples coz usually after the fight, either of the spouses goes on a sex strike, denying the other their conjugal rights. Multiple concurrent sexual partners (mipango ya kando) is the direct consequence of such a scenario, in which case the sex is usually unprotected – you do not know if condoms are ever known behind closed doors.

Masculinities and Gender
Also commonly reported among Kenyan males overtaken by their masculinities is an incident of forceful sex immediately after the physical fight, just to prove their prowess and weigh ‘who’s stronger now?’, ignorant of the fact that this is marital rape attracting prosecution and exposing each other to bruises and cuts thereby increasing chances of infection.

Now this is the Bull’s Eye: Sweet ladies, the offense is spouse battering and not exclusively wife battering, so the law also protects men. Hi dudes, marital rape is as grave as ‘the other rape’ , so which one do we employ, the mind or the muscle? We only need so much enlightenment to appreciate this.