The Sunday Mail
Thelma Jones
I got to know of my HIV status in 2008 when I was 14 years old.
I was born with the virus as I had never indulged in intercourse. It must have been from my mother who died years ago. My father has always shunned me because of my status.
I used to be sickly as a child, visiting the local clinic regularly.
It was only in 2008 when my great grandmother, the one who raised me since I was two months old took me for HIV testing after being adviced by her friend to do so.
The results were devastating.
Back then, many people were not knowledgeable in the subject and thought every HIV positive person had been promiscuous.
The counsellor explained other ways of transmission, but everything still confused me.
It appeared like everyone was against me.
My great grandmother accepted the situation, but relatives didn’t.
I once overheard my uncle telling her that, “She is just a grave, she is going to die.”
I kept blaming my mum.
I didn’t accept my condition until I was admitted to Parirenyatwa Group of Hospitals for three months due to meningitis.
Paralysed, I could not feed.
It seemed there was no hope.
Breakthrough only came in April 2009 when I recovered, much to the doctor’s surprise.
The doctor said, “You are a living miracle because I never thought you would live again.”
A miracle for sure.
It was the beginning of a new life for me, with the will to live now firmly in my grasp.
At home, things became more difficult, though, as not many were willing to share a plate or spoon with me, believing they would contract the virus.
All along, my father was in South Africa and didn’t know about my status.
He only learnt about it through an uncle.
He took it badly.
In any case, I had never met him, nor had I known his love.
Support groups became my family, embracing me with love and helping me restore my confidence.
Armed with purpose, I did a hotel and catering course, finishing in October 2013.
However, I was still confused as I didn’t know my father.
I made every effort to locate him and succeeded when he returned to Zimbabwe on a brief visit.
He said to me, “How do I know that you are my child? Your uncle told me that you are HIV positive.”
I was devastated, the air in my lungs almost dissipated immediately.
My head began to spin. Was I dreaming?
The nightmare only ended with his return to South Africa.
The support groups remained my family.
I have not seen my father since 2013, all because of my status. But I am thankful that I have friends in the Africaid support group.
I feel I have a mother and father there.
They helped me as I didn’t want to take medication at first.
As an adolescent, you get tired of taking medication and you leave it like that.
I thought I would die and I didn’t have hope.
Some relatives who used to discriminate against me are now asking so many questions.
They tested HIV positive and now need me for counselling.
I try by all means to help and encourage them.
It has been difficult for my uncle, too, to accept his condition as he later married a girl who was HIV positive but didn’t disclose her status.
I feel great, God gave me grace.
Many young people have received help through the Africaid/Zvandiri programme.
There is no fear of discrimination.
I want to give hope to the hopeless and to the adolescents who are still in denial.
At one point, I thought I would die, but now I look forward to 200 more Christmases!
Thelma Jones is a pseudonym for a 21-year-old who told her story to The Sunday Mail’s Fatima Bulla at the 2015 International Conference on Aids and STIs in Africa. In Zimbabwe, it is socially acceptable for one’s lifespan to be benchmarked against the number of Christmases they have seen.
Thelma remains optimistic of good returns in spite of her HIV status, and will enjoy Christmas just like every other Zimbabwean.
