He was a healthy eight month old baby boy. Making bubble’s with his saliva, making incomprehensible noises like all babies his age usually do. Trying to crawl and pull everything in his vicinity. My nephew Brain Kawonawo, was handsome and super sweet. Then he came down with a fever and that trip to the hospital that was supposed to be his salvation turned fatal.
12 years down the road, he kept coming down with flu, cough, a running stomach and the doctors kept treating the fever, or malaria or whatever it was. Until one day it occurred to one of my brothers that Brian needed to be checked for HIV.
As an underage child, the parents had to consent and get tested too. The long trip to the hospital as my sister would call it delivered the bad news. “Esther, my son is HIV positive but I am negative,” my sister called to tell me after she left hospital. I remember standing on the balcony of my office looking in the yonder as I contemplated the news. He had contracted the deadly virus through a blood transfusion that he received at the hospital when he was eight months.
This followed months of denial but also confirmation upon confirmation from doctors upon doctors that surely Brian was HIV positive and actually needed to start on ARVs immediately. Several months later, Brian started his ARV, as he joined high school.
Though he was HIV positive, he talked of his dreams like he would live to be 100. He had an opinion on everything and always argued (in a positive way) with his mother about everything including why he should have potato chips and not rice for dinner. He had a lot of life flowing in him. He believed God, trusted him for his healing even when his condition sometimes detoriated and we all lost faith. He went to church every Sunday. Went to school and strived to be the best. Contested for any leadership position that he wanted. Nothing could stop him.
Then one day, he felt too healthy and decided the ARVs were not necessary anymore. He stopped taking the medicine without his mother and his councillor’s knowledge. That was the beginning of the end of the second chance that God and the ARVs had given him. Brian came down with a host of complications that led to his death at 18 years. Two weeks ago, he was laid to rest and I wasn’t there.
But I will always remember how his face lit up when he saw me. How he always gave me an update of what is happening in his life. He always kept for me roasted ground nuts because he knew I loved them. He cared for me just as he cared for all his aunties and uncles. His life and death has taught me that God is a God of a second chance but our second chances should not be squandered.
Brian I know you are one of the angels in heaven and one of the stars that brighten our dark skies. Until we meet again in heaven…I love you and will miss you.
As I write this, I think of the second chances that people get through ARVs and why they shouldn’t be squandered and also the people in power shouldn’t embezzle the Global Fund monies which are used to buy such expensive drugs like it is in Uganda.
And also I think of the fact that so many people are affected by the HIV and AIDS scourge in one way or another and whether it is a son, nephew, parent, friend, we all need to support each other and make our generation an HIV free generation. The ball is in our hands!
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