Has it come to this?
Has it come to this? Like seriously? I can’t believe it.
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A young lady from whom I used to buy veggies at the market suddenly vacated her sales spot. The women among whom she sold didn’t have the slightest idea where she could be. I forgot entirely about her. Then as the Almighty would have it, last Thursday I saw her fiilifiili by the side of a bus stop at Dansoman.
She was first to see me. Mentioning my name whilst emerging from behind a lamp post, I expressed shock at who it was who knew me at a place so far from my residence. “Hannah! What are you doing here? Where have you been? Did you travel?” My questions dispensed simultaneously. She grinned as usual and said, “Madam, I am there ooo”.
Further probing indicated she owns a hair-dressing salon which seats three clients at a time, and no longer lives at Frafraha. Kasoa is her new habitation. “Hannah, what happened? You are looking very nice”. I said. “Madam, an NGO helped me oooo”. “How?” I asked.
Just when she was about to respond, the vehicle plying her route came along and so she had to say good-bye. I quickly keyed in and stored onto my phone, what she said was her new phone number. We waved goodbye at each other as they sped off.
There was no way the sun was going to go down on my suspense. I had a strong urge to have a further chat with Hannah, especially having mentioned an NGO. Sometimes I make such enquiries for the sake of my relatives whose need it is to become economically transformed. You see, once you get them something lucrative to do, you ease yourself of almost every financial dependency. So I like teaching them to fish, not sending them fish all the time. If indeed Hannah’s NGO could help two, just two of my relatives in our hometown, Mercy and Akuyoo, I am sure I would really be free.
Hannah’s phone seemed to be very busy. After five tries in the space of about 45 minutes, I eventually got to speak to her. “Madam, my case diɛɛ it has been God ooo”, she said as an opening to her elucidation. “You see, I have this friend I came to Accra with to find work to do. Initially we were kayayei at the Agbogbloshie market. We wanted to work hard, save some money and start a small business. With the passage of time, my friend befriended a certain fitter who impregnated her.
“It was when she was going to deliver that the doctor found she was HIV positive. She lost her baby after delivery though. I used to visit her a lot in the uncompleted house in which she lived with her boyfriend. She was so demoralised because of her new status, she almost died daily from fear. I also became afraid I would contract the disease from the boys around who used to worry us a lot. So with the little money I had, I bought a metal tray, found a place in the market, and started selling vegetables.
“As for my friend, her health was getting worse and worse owing to a lot of factors, of which money was chief. She said one-day, a man who lived across their residence, her confidant, told her about an HIV-prevention NGO he worked with. She opted to become their HIV Ambassador. That was when life started to get better for my friend. She went on educational trips to the various regions with the Director and some of the officials. They paid her well. They even set her up in a sewing business. Madam, if you see my friend you won’t believe she is HIV positive. She still works with them”.
“Things were getting tougher and tougher. Life had to get better for me too, Madam. So I also found an NGO and told them I was HIV positive and that I wanted to work for them as an Ambassador. My sincerity pleased them. They accepted my offer, travelled around with me, and helped me train as a hairdresser. It’s been about a year and a half now. Today I have a small hair salon with two apprentices”.
I thought it was all a joke. “You what? Hannah!” I yelled on the phone. “Agh Madam paa. Desperate situations necessitate desperate measures,” she said with a giggle. To say that I was extremely “shocksprised” is an understatement. “Agh, but how come the NGO didn’t run any tests on you to verify your claim?” I asked. “Agh, maybe that was my luck”, she replied. “But Madam, I don’t have any regrets. I am very happy”.
“So are you made to take any medication to build up your immune system?” I asked. “Yes, I attend the HIV clinic alright but do not take the medication per se”. “Hannah!” I yelled, surprised. “Hoh, Madam, you sound flabbergasted oo. I am not the only person who is into HIV stuff ooo.
“A few months ago, our NGO and a medical team held a workshop for a new group of persons living with HIV. We were to provide some money to each of them, about twenty-three in number, to start a trade of some sort. One of the nurses, during coffee break, jokingly came out to announce that each one of them would be tested before the monies would be given them. By the time we settled for the next session of the workshop, there were only 12 people in the room. What does it tell you, Madam?” That made me really laugh.
I couldn’t believe anyone could take on such a status with the aim of putting body and soul together. I had watched a Nigerian movie where a wife, during church service, stood up to join widows who had been called forward to be given money to start petty trading. When her husband, next to whom she was sitting, asked why she took such a step, she said to him, “if I had a husband, I wouldn’t be going through so much struggle in life”. I was surprised. But that was a movie.
This time around, I have heard the stunning reality of a similar case. Has it come to this? That some HIV-free persons who want to whisk themselves out of the current state of economic difficulties have decided to change their status to HIV positive? Ridiculous!!! Things are happening in this city.