Sequel: Cure ›
Sickness
Yellow
I was born in August. I am a Leo. A bright yellow lion.
My mother found out she was pregnant nine months before that. That was when she moved to America. She was nineteen.
I remember her telling me the story when I was thirteen. About how we got here, and how I came to be.
Southern Africa has the highest percentage of people living with AIDS. My mom lived there for nineteen years. She used to never want to leave. Now she never wants to go back. She grew up in a small village. She wasn’t rich, nor was she poor. She lived comfortably.
The bad thing about learning about AIDS is that people have a lot of superstitions as to how you get it, or how it can be cured.
In South Africa, men who are HIV positive, or have AIDS, believe that by having sexual intercourse with a young, innocent virgin will cure them completely of HIV/AIDS. My mother was one of those young, innocent virgins.
“…all I can remember were his disgusting yellow teeth formed into a crooked smile, like he had finally gotten rid of his disease. It was a smile of happiness and pleasure for him. For me, it was a nightmare, soon to haunt me in my dreams for years to come…”
Sometimes, I wonder what my mother’s life would have turned out to be if she hadn’t been raped.
Would she still be living in Africa?
Would she have moved here anyways?
Would I even exist?
My mom always tells me that even though she has one of the worst illnesses known to man, she still feels blessed everyday to have me, to have the life we have living in America. She tells me that she wouldn’t want it any other way.
After a couple of weeks, my mom realized she was late. She waited another week, and still nothing. She began to feel nauseas. This is when my mother knew that she had to move to America where there would be a better life for that of her unborn child.
Me.
But she didn’t know that she was HIV positive, and would soon have AIDS.
She didn’t know her child would have it either.
“…my mother had old friends living in America. They gave me a very generous loan, so that I could start over. Mom knew why I was leaving, she understood. She said that one day, maybe she would come visit me, but for now, she would write. By the time I got to America, I knew for sure that I was pregnant. I set up an appointment with a doctor about a month or so into my pregnancy to get my first ultrasound and blood test. The ultrasound was fine. But a couple of weeks later, my blood test results came back. I scanned the sheet quickly, and didn’t read it through. My doctor called me, and asked if I got the results. I said yes. She told me that she would like to start treatment and medicine right away. ‘What for?’ I asked. ‘Miss, didn’t you read over it? You have AIDS. We suspect you were HIV positive before, but now there’s no denying it. You’re child will have it as well.’ ”
My mother then told me that she only said a few sentences after that. She hung up the phone, and sat down on hard tiled floor of her new apartment. She sat in silence for a few moments up against her cabinet doors. She realized what had happened.
It was at this point in the story where my mother began to cry.
It was also when I began to cry with her.
My mother found out she was pregnant nine months before that. That was when she moved to America. She was nineteen.
I remember her telling me the story when I was thirteen. About how we got here, and how I came to be.
Southern Africa has the highest percentage of people living with AIDS. My mom lived there for nineteen years. She used to never want to leave. Now she never wants to go back. She grew up in a small village. She wasn’t rich, nor was she poor. She lived comfortably.
The bad thing about learning about AIDS is that people have a lot of superstitions as to how you get it, or how it can be cured.
In South Africa, men who are HIV positive, or have AIDS, believe that by having sexual intercourse with a young, innocent virgin will cure them completely of HIV/AIDS. My mother was one of those young, innocent virgins.
“…all I can remember were his disgusting yellow teeth formed into a crooked smile, like he had finally gotten rid of his disease. It was a smile of happiness and pleasure for him. For me, it was a nightmare, soon to haunt me in my dreams for years to come…”
Sometimes, I wonder what my mother’s life would have turned out to be if she hadn’t been raped.
Would she still be living in Africa?
Would she have moved here anyways?
Would I even exist?
My mom always tells me that even though she has one of the worst illnesses known to man, she still feels blessed everyday to have me, to have the life we have living in America. She tells me that she wouldn’t want it any other way.
After a couple of weeks, my mom realized she was late. She waited another week, and still nothing. She began to feel nauseas. This is when my mother knew that she had to move to America where there would be a better life for that of her unborn child.
Me.
But she didn’t know that she was HIV positive, and would soon have AIDS.
She didn’t know her child would have it either.
“…my mother had old friends living in America. They gave me a very generous loan, so that I could start over. Mom knew why I was leaving, she understood. She said that one day, maybe she would come visit me, but for now, she would write. By the time I got to America, I knew for sure that I was pregnant. I set up an appointment with a doctor about a month or so into my pregnancy to get my first ultrasound and blood test. The ultrasound was fine. But a couple of weeks later, my blood test results came back. I scanned the sheet quickly, and didn’t read it through. My doctor called me, and asked if I got the results. I said yes. She told me that she would like to start treatment and medicine right away. ‘What for?’ I asked. ‘Miss, didn’t you read over it? You have AIDS. We suspect you were HIV positive before, but now there’s no denying it. You’re child will have it as well.’ ”
My mother then told me that she only said a few sentences after that. She hung up the phone, and sat down on hard tiled floor of her new apartment. She sat in silence for a few moments up against her cabinet doors. She realized what had happened.
It was at this point in the story where my mother began to cry.
It was also when I began to cry with her.