HIV in Sicily Part II

Walking in the narrow streets of the centre of Palermo, looking for some shadow and solace from the scorching heat of the end of July, I couldn’t stop thinking about D. The last time I saw her was in Palermo, on my way back to London from Alicudi.

I met D the first time when she came to register at PW. She didn’t speak any English and I translated for her. She was only 20 years old and she just found out that she had HIV while she was pregnant. Her baby was only a few weeks old.

 During the next couple of years I spent a lot of time supporting D. It took her a long time to tell her partner that she was HIV positive, even if she believed he had infected her. Once she came to PW with a black eye, and bruises on her arms. She had told him, he had beaten her up. They kept being together even if he refused to go for testing. D didn’t think it would have been possible for her to get another boyfriend now that she was positive.

 Sometimes I would go with D to hospital to help her not only with the translation, but explaining the medical stuff. When she got pregnant again,  I went with her for an ultrasound. It was snowing heavily, it was a January evening,  and they kept us waiting until late. We had to wait for a doctor to explain the results of the tests. The doctor told us that next to her baby, in the womb, they had found a big lump. More tests were needed.

 In spite of her health problems and before having any more exams D went to Palermo to see her mother and her 4 years old daughter she had left there. Her mum still knew nothing about her diagnosis. While in Palermo she had a miscarriage and had to go into hospital. In the hospital she was put in a ‘isolation room’ and all doctors and nurses who came in were wearing masks and gloves, as if she was an highly infectious threat. I really don’t know how she explained that to her family. She was discharged after a few days, in spite of still bleeding heavily, with remarks on not really wanting to treat people like her.

 When D came back to London she was diagnosed with late stage cervical cancer. She was given only a few months to live. She decided to go back to Palermo and I encouraged her to tell her mum about her HIV. D called me a few days later to tell me her mum had thrown her out of their home, calling her a whore. She was staying with another relative.

 Somehow D patched things up with her family and the last time I saw her it was in a hospital in Palermo. Even if I was ‘on holiday’ I felt I had to say goodbye to D. The taxi driver took me to the hospital on my way to the airport. Her mum and daughter and other brothers and sisters were there.   D had lost a lot of weight but there still was a glow on her face. She was upset I didn’t warn her I was coming. She wanted to give me a present, some Sicilian delicacy. She always gave me, and other people who came to PW little  presents,  that’s how she was.

 D died a few days later. Her daughter keeps living with her mum in Sicily and the boy is somewhere  in London with his dad, if he is still alive….Even when D was really sick, he still refused going for the test.  Both children are HIV negative

 When I walked the streets of Palermo a few weeks ago I couldn’t help thinking about D. Her short life could have been so much better. Nobody can deny that dying  at such a young age is a tragedy beyond words. However would have she suffered so much if she had just died of cervical cancer instead of AIDS?

Update on Deportation of Lady X

We will not be able to stop the deportation of Lady X – this is how I decided to call the lady that was ‘snatched’ from Northern Ireland to be taken to a detention centres first in Scotland, then in Manchester and was  moved yesterday to Yarlswood, in Bedfordshire.

 There is nothing I, or any of us, can do to stop it. Her flight back to Malawi is booked for tonight. I spoke to her on the phone yesterday. I had to gather the strength to call her. I just couldn’t face saying: there is nothing that can be done. But anyway, I though it is better that she goes knowing that there are people here who care about what is happening to her. She sounded OK on the phone. She told me that she has a 2 month supply of medication and the HIV organization which supported her in Northern Ireland will send her another three months. Obviously she was concerned about what would happen afterwards. She is on second line treatment which is not available in Malawi, one of the world poorest countries.

What will happen when her medication runs out? What will she do in a country she left over six year ago? How will she find a home, a job, medical and psychological support? What can I – and you – do about it?

HIV and Deportation

I have received an alarmed email from PozFem members from Northern Ireland.

A lady from their group who had been living in Northern Ireland for over six years was taken to detention centre and is going to be deported back to Malawi, were she has nobody, on Wendsday.

Last Thursday she went to the police to sign as she does as part of her process of applying for asylum. She was taken directly from the police station to a boat who took her to Scotland. She didn’t have anything on her, not a toothbrush, or a change of clothes and worst of all, not even her medication. Her mobile phone soon ran out of batter and she didn’t have any access to her friends any more, all her numbers were in the phone.

From Scotland she was taken to Manchester and from Manchester she will be taken to Yarlswood in Bredforshire. She has a flight booked to be taken back to Malawi on Wendsday. Somehow the PozFem members in Ireland have managed to keep in contact with her. Thank to them she now has ARVs for a month and some clothes. But obviously she is really distressed because she doesn’t have anybody left in Malawi. Through ICW we are trying to get contacts there that can help her.

The trauma of her deportation is deep.  We know from the experiences of others who have gone through similar circumstances, such as Jewish women during the holocaust for example, that being taken suddenly for deportation and detention  to a place where most likely one can expect to face illness, hardship and death,will have deep repercussions on one’s mental and physical health for a long time.

I am ashamed that a country like the UK can treat a person who is looking for safety here with such inhumanity.

If you have any idea on how we can highlight the inhumane treatment of HIV positive Asylum Seekers or how we can help this lady please contact me.

HIV in Sicily Part I

Hello dear readers I am back! Well I know there is very few of you, but it still feels good that everyday somebody seems to arrive here. Sorry for the long silence. I had the fortune of being on holiday in Alicudi, a very small island North of Palermo. Alicudi is a place out of time. Until not long ago there was no electricity. And still no cars, or clubs, or crowds. Alicudi is an inactive volcano, a big black rock in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea, where the main form of transport is still the donkey, and of course it has very limited internet connection. Even sending a text message is difficult. That’s why I haven’t been updating my blog. I was also hoping that in such a context I could have a little break from HIV, if not in my body, at least in my head. But can I?

Memories have been coming back to me. Memories of two Sicilian women I have met and supported through my work at Positively Women. I reflected sadly that those two daughters of Sicily are among the very few people that I have witnessed dying of AIDS related causes in the UK. Their stories give a good picture of the levels of stigma in this beautiful land of mine.

P was an intelligent and indomitable woman. I first met her at the drug and alcohol support group that PW used to run a few years ago. I remember her telling the story of how she first beat her addiction and then, with her partner and two children drove a Panda from Catania to London to start a new life.

But it couldn’t be… In spite of the fact that medications was available, and she was in London getting great medical care, her body kept having adverse reactions to all the drugs she was put on. She also had Hepatitis C and her liver slowly gave up. One morning I went to visit her in hospital with a big bunch of flowers and the nurse told me she had passed away two days earlier.

I had to get in contact with the family back in Sicily and the Italian Embassy to arrange the funeral. This is where the shocking part of the story begins. The family didn’t want to know. They asked what the cheapest way to bury her was. In the end through the Embassy and the Hospital, we arranged to have her cremated and to send the ashes to Italy. At her funeral there was only two of us PW workers. Not even her children, who had been returned to their grand parents in Sicily when P health had deteriorated, were allowed to come and say good by to their mum. I knew her family was quite well off, so it wasn’t a lack of money that was stopping them. But P had also told me how the fact that she had been a junky and on top of this also HIV+ made her mother and father disown her. As an Italian, knowing how close are our families, and how important ceremonies like funerals are, especially in the South, I was shocked and numbed by the awful reality that nobody had come to the funeral of this young woman, because she died of something unmentionable: AIDS.

The Anglican priest who officiated the service asked if I wanted to sprinkle some blessed water on the coffin, and so I did, while tears streamed on my chicks. This was the saddest funeral I ever went to.