[ 2006.11. 1 ]
Djama Amadou is working with CARE to educate women about the realities of HIV/AIDS.
Djama Amadou has a vibrant, cheerful spirit and comforting smile that invites friends and strangers alike into easy conversation. She also has HIV. And unlike most HIV-positive women in Niger, Djama wants people to know her status. That's why she has traveled to rural Wandale village(*1), a rough two-hour drive from the nearest paved road and worlds away from her home in the west African nation's capital, Niamey.
Djama is working with CARE and our local partner Espoir through the Mata Masu Dubara (*2) (MMD) project in Wandale, which helps provide women with access to credit, savings and information about HIV/AIDS.
"My mission is to speak out to women throughout Niger," Djama says, "to help them know that we are all vulnerable to HIV/AIDS." Djama is also working to correct many common misconceptions about the disease. "You look at me, and you see a healthy woman. You can shake my hand, drink from my glass, even embrace me... none of these things will give you AIDS. There were times when I was abandoned and alone because even my closest friends and family turned away from me. They did not understand these things. I tell my story to help others, because I remember a time when there was no help for me."
Djama's story begins six years ago when her husband left Niger for a better paying job in neighboring Cote d'Ivoire. "Niger is a very poor country," Djama explains. "Jobs here are difficult to find." Indeed, chronic poverty, a shrinking economy and recurring food emergencies have forced much of the country's workforce to seek temporary employment abroad. In Wandale village alone, nearly 90 percent of the adult male population has left to find migrant work in Nigeria and Cote d'Ivoire.
"When my husband returned from Abidjan he was very thin and frail," Djama recalls. "He refused to see a medical doctor, and the traditional healers did not know what was wrong with him." Ironically, Djama's husband knew all too well. "He had been away for nearly three years, and died not six months after returning home. Imagine my grief!" Djama exclaims. "Then, as I was going through his documents, I found his test results from a clinic in Abidjan. He had AIDS, and he knew it all along."
Before long, Djama fell ill herself. "I knew that my husband had the disease," Djama says. "At the time, I did not imagine that he could have passed it on to me. But then I began to develop sores and scratches on my body. After a while, I did not even have energy to hold my children."
Djama feared the worst, but could not bring herself to face the possibility that she might be infected too. After more than two weeks in bed, with no energy to move, Djama visited her community's health clinic. "I was still hoping that the diagnosis would reveal something ? anything ? other than AIDS, but the results were positive. I thought I would die immediately," she says, stifling a sly grin, as if to affirm that she is still very much alive. "I was terrified for my children. I am poor. My relatives are poor. No one can afford three extra mouths to feed. My little ones would be left on the streets."
Djama's fears intensified when the screening counselor told her that lifesaving anti retro-viral drugs would cost as much as 50,000 CFA (roughly $100) per month ? nearly double her income. "The clinic gave me antibiotics and sent me on my way," she says. "Later I learned that a mobile health clinic was offering ARVs for 1,000 CFA. This was still very expensive for me, but I was able to afford it by taking extra work and eating less so there would be food for the children. There were months when I could not pay my medical bills. But during those times, the clinic staff would pay for me. They were seeing an improvement in me; they did not want me to get sick again."
As time went by, Djama improved. "I will always have HIV," she admits, "but with the medication, I am able to maintain good health. If you see me on the street, you will not know that I have AIDS." Inspired by her progress, the clinic asked Djama if she would appear in a video show to let other women know that people with HIV can lead normal, healthy lives if they seek treatment in time. Djama agreed. In the meantime, she had fallen in love again and was preparing to remarry. "A woman cannot keep secrets from her husband," Djama says. "When I told him I had HIV, he said he would marry me anyway. We had a normal life, and took all the necessary precautions. But he insisted that we keep this news a secret from his family."
"One day, his sister saw my video on television. When word spread, the whole family disowned me, my children and my husband. It was more than he could take, so he divorced me and sent me and the children to live on the street," Djama says quite matter-of-factly. "At that point, I truly had nothing."
When Djama learned about CARE and Espoir's work to fight HIV/AIDS, she contacted us to see if there was anything we could do to help. "Her story was so inspirational," says Espoir's national president, Nassirou Issa. "CARE and Espoir had been working with MMD groups to educate women in this highly vulnerable area about HIV/AIDS. The people here did not know how AIDS is transmitted, and that ignorance had created a culture of fear. If we could teach them how the disease is spread and treated, we could not only help reduce infections in the region, but also help build a support network for people living with HIV and AIDS."
As a result, Djama now works for the MMD project. Each month, she and three other HIV-positive Nigerien women visit women's groups throughout the region to give their testimony and help reduce the stigma of HIV/AIDS. "Communities here are very supportive. If someone in a village falls on hard times, their neighbors are always there to help. But this is not the case if someone has HIV; if a community member becomes ill with AIDS, she is shunned by everyone. The only way to fight this problem is through education. When people understand the disease and learn that they can safely offer help and support to their family and neighbors who are sick, then they will begin to do what is right," Djama says.
Indeed, the women of Wandale are getting the message. "Our MMD group has set up a special cereal bank just for people in the village who are affected by HIV/AIDS," reports Ize Abdou, a Wandale MMD member and community volunteer. "It provides them with food when they are too sick to work in the fields, and profits go to help pay for medication."
Djama is proud of the work she is doing to educate others about AIDS. "I have lost a lot because of HIV, but I have gained so much more," she says. "We must work together to fight the stigma and ignorance surrounding this disease, but perhaps even more importantly, we should learn to help each other and not turn our backs on other women and mothers who need help and support."
*1 Bouza Department, Tahoua Province.
*2 "Women on the move" in the Housa language.
