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Despite the plenitude of red ribbons displayed on billboards and posters, I remained mind-blind to the reality of HIV/AIDS. I didn't have the virus nor did any of my friends (or so I thought). My concept of people living with HIV was restricted to societal degenerates, illiterate girl, and truck drivers. No thought was offered to Wendy, my Wendy; Thompson, my nerdy neighbor, or George my freak-of-iPhones-friend. The leprosy of this unreality crippled my mind so much that red ribbons meant to me just what a speed bump sign would mean to a pedestrian.
"HIV/AIDS is yet incurable and has claimed the lives of millions and it still does. This virus works like a self-righteous bandit- it strips you of your sword and shield leaving you defenseless and plundered by every lurking disease-rougue. The HIV attack, like every microbial attack, needs 'you' to get to you. You must stay safe." Those were the exact words of Thompson on the day he revealed to us that he was HIV positive. I remember George muttering something about a resolve to stick to one partner.
"I wasn't always a loner", he continued "and in truth, I cannot rightly trace the means by which I contracted HIV. I had a girlfriend whom I loved; I still do. Maybe it was through her, maybe the barber or elsewhere; I don't know. I lost her to AIDS, I lost myself too. A lot happened then. You all must take your lives serious. Tell the barber to burn that blade, use a condom if you must have sex, tell the hairdresser to burn the pin first. It is your life.
I looked at Wendy; and for the first time it hit me that my fidelity was no assurance of her's, condoms were a must. George looked scared, Wendy too. I looked around Thompson's apartment and realised just then what those drugs were: antiretrovirals (ARVs). The next day we all got tested and I was positive!
Word Count:, 315
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