I pray that my story encourages you
Asunta Wagura. "It could be HIV or something else, but believe me, your current situation does not define your destiny. Who knows, you are only being refined in fire for a greater mission." She says. PHOTO | DENISH OCHIENG
What you need to know:
- I could not fathom enduring those few minutes of pain. It is that lack of courage that transformed me. It gave me the courage to live. And it did not matter what was said: What mattered was what I did and decided. I put my destiny in my hands.
One is a “normal” birthday, the other is a baptism of fire. Last Friday I celebrated my 48th birthday and 26 years to the exact date when I was told I had Aids. Simply put, I have lived more than half of my life with HIV.
Most of you know my story. How my world was shattered when I was in medical school. How the principal told me I had six months to live. Lord, those were the longest six months ever!
I had tonnes of questions, but it was too late to ask anybody anything. My fate had already been sealed. As I walked to the hostels, I felt a total disconnect between my body, mind, and soul.
My body was going to the hostels, but my mind and soul were at a standstill, not ready to believe the unfolding events.
For starters, I wanted to know where I went wrong with my life. I asked God, “why me?” “How bad are my sins that you must punish me in this very shamefully public way?”
“God, what about those classmates of mine who always bragged about how many boys they slept with, and yet they never got pregnant or got infected with a sexually-transmitted infection. What about them?”
I hated everyone, including myself and God… mostly God. I blamed Him for allowing this to happen to me. I felt I did not deserve this because this was my sexual debut. I wanted answers. But as usual, at such times, the only answer one gets from God — especially if you are raging against Him — is deafening silence.
At the hostel, word had already gone round about my situation. I found the security men dressed like those guys who used to advertise mabati dumu. They were picking up my clothes with forceps and dropping them inside a big black polythene bag.
I realised that the disease I had been told I was carrying was deadly beyond imagination.
I did not even cry. To this day I have never known why I did not cry. I only continued packing while stuff that belonged to the school went into another polythene bag.
I remembered that I had not been given any documents to indicate I was suffering from an incurable disease. All I could do in the evening was stand in front of the mirror and inspect every part of my body. I was looking for signs of Aids.
Fortunately, I did not see any. But the turmoil inside me was so overwhelming, I thought people saw what I was thinking and planning.
“I won’t wait for my body to waste away and for everyone to see my bones through the skin,” I told myself. “I’ll not wait for that slow painful death. I’ll commit suicide.”
At least I had the brains to do this. But again I lacked courage to commit suicide. You know the seemingly simple strategy of standing on a stool with a rope tied to a beam, noose round the neck? It is not simple. I lacked the courage to kick away the stool.
I could not fathom enduring those few minutes of pain. It is that lack of courage that transformed me. It gave me the courage to live. And it did not matter what was said: What mattered was what I did and decided. I put my destiny in my hands.
Looking back, it was extremely hard. I believe God was making me better through this baptism of fire. He was moulding me to make me a comforter of His hurting people.
So, if someone came and shared with me the pain of being newly-diagnosed, rejection, stigma, and discrimination, I would identify with their pain and offer hope.
I have no regrets or hard feelings towards anyone. I am grateful to God, who has made me withstand all situations and proved that He is the God who works beyond impossibilities.
I have several things to celebrate in my 48 years of life and 26 living with HIV. I have received several awards, local and international. I am a mother of five biological boys and two foster girls.
And that is just the half of it.
It could be HIV or something else, but believe me, your current situation does not define your destiny. Who knows, you are only being refined in fire for a greater mission.
I am blessed. Nobody and nothing can convince me otherwise. What is more, miraculous numbers, (like 48 and 26), never lie.
This is the diary of Asunta Wagura, a mother-of-five who tested HIV-positive 26 years ago. She is the executive director of the Kenya Network of Women with Aids (KENWA). Email: [email protected]
