|
|
“I have no one, no one. I have never felt so alone, lonely and forsaken.”
It was a poignant scene. The tragedy was so heartrending that I could bear no more. I stood up and walked towards the patio. I gazed at the geraniums that Fatima had planted in large jars. They were the only beautiful scenery, the only joyful note in the elegy that Fatima was singing. Then, I asked her whether she worked.
“I used to be a salesclerk at the store across the street”, she explained. “I was asked to leave after I was infected. I couldn’t hide it. I became sick and it affected my performance, so I was released from my duties.”
“Did you try to work elsewhere?”
“I did, but I couldn’t. I had to offer certified medical statements.”
“How do you survive? Do you have any income??”
“I barely do. My mother is a cook in a restaurant, and my daughter sends me some money in secret whenever she can.”
“Do you buy your medicine or is it provided by your government?”
She smiled acerbically and said: “Government? No, the government can’t afford this kind of medicine. I have to buy it, and I am not insured. I can’t afford to buy insurance. I haven’t been able to buy all the required medicine, and surely not in the amount that I need.”
“I feel powerless”, she continued, “incapable of controlling my own destiny. If something happens to my mother, I will soon die.”
I was speechless for a while. I wanted to console her, but couldn’t find the proper words. I finally asked her: “What is it that you need the most, Fatima? Is it money?”
“Of course I need money, she cried; otherwise, I couldn’t carry on. But it is more than money what I need! I need love, companionship, acceptance, support, friendship, this is what I need! This will give me a reason to fight for life. But these are luxuries I can’t afford. I can’t have love, for my closest family deserted me. I can’t have friends, for no one would want to spend time with a dangerous AIDS patient. I sure cannot be accepted, for AIDS is a taboo; I can’t talk about it openly; otherwise, I will be stigmatized for the rest of my life. While I can’t have moral support, I can’t even have financial support because my government is broke and careless.”
My encounter with Fatima lasted three hours, which seemed as long as three winters. They were fierce winters indeed, and I felt very cold, so it was time for me to retire home. On my way out, she uttered her final words: “I really hope to meet with you again. Please remember me in your days.” I said good bye promising to return, and set out.
As I drove away from the capital into the mountains, the sun was glowing magically and the cool breeze was whispering through the tree leaves. With all the glimmering sunlight that imbued space, it rained in my heart. Fatima’s words did not leave me. They were implanted in my mind. I knew that the sun would never shine again in her world. She is doomed to eternal darkness, for she is the victim of an unmerciful society; a society where human rights barely exists; where the government is corrupt and impotent; where women are blamed for all the calamities that befall mankind; and where ignorance and decadence make it impossible for human dignity to flourish. However, I made a vow to myself which brought me comfort: to visit Fatima as often as I could, to be the friend she longs for, and to be the solace she craves in the bitterness of her endless night.
|
Tags
You must be logged in to add tags.
|
Writer Profile
May Fawaz
This user has not written anything in his panorama profile yet.
|
Comments
You must be a TakingITGlobal member to post a comment. Sign up for free or login.
|
|
