The father of my children died in 2004 from HIV, and that gave me a lot of problems. I cried. There are still people who stay away. They say I have HIV and that I can’t live next to them. They are afraid and they talk amongst themselves, always pointing their fingers at me. But that does not trouble me anymore, because I have to take care of the education of my children. I am the only one left. Sometimes I think, maybe I should have died, like my children’s father. But then I say no, life is still beautiful. I will continue to drink my medication.

We have an organization that just formed, and the patients say they want me, “Dina,” to be the president, to represent them. I tell them all that they must take their medication. Because sometimes when you give them medicine, they put it under their tongue and spit it out later. Why do you think they put it under their tongue? Because they don’t have food! When you give patients medicine, they should get something to eat. Give them food so they can really take the medication and not throw it away.

In the photos I have taken, I see how much my younger son supports me. I see he is there with me, everywhere. That makes me want to live.