In Karamoja, Aids is still a 'curse'
By KWAMBOKA OYARO
Ludia Nanya wipes her brow with the back of her dusty hand. Her anklets jingle as she paces along the pavement and her beautiful beads rest perfectly on her neck and waist. She ignores the curious onlookers as her dressing is definitely different from the Maasai or Samburu, which many city dwellers are used to seeing.
The cool Nairobi afternoon has given her a break from the hostile surroundings of her Karamoja home in Uganda, and the constant presence of five graves in her homestead seems so far away.
But the needs of the 10 orphaned grandchildren under her care still bother her, despite being more than 600 kilometres away from them. Nanya constantly thinks about them. She worries about them and fear that they might have slept hungry grips her.
It was only after her four daughters and a son succumbed to Aids in a span of five years that Nanya believed that the epidemic really did exist.
Before then, she was as obstinate as other Karamojongs, most of whom are convinced that Aids is a fairy tale. Now, she stands up in a meeting to tell her Kaabong village mates that Aids is a reality, but they usually cover their faces, look at their toes and "seal" their ears. To them, Aids is non-existent and people who die of the disease are bewitched.
Cows � a precious commodity in the community � are given to witch-doctors who diagnose and "cure" the disease. But talking about HIV/Aids is prohibited because mentioning "slim", as it is referred to there, is to invite the disease to the safe havens of Karamoja.
That is why Nanya will no longer be invited to homes where there are social gatherings, for she might come and begin talking about the curse. She is ostracised, but she is not going to sing a different tune � she knows her children were not bewitched.
The four daughters were married and their husbands were living with them in Nanya's home. As it is tradition in Karamoja, a man marries a woman and lives in her parents' home until he raids enough cows to pay dowry.
The more children the woman gets, the more cows her family will get. So the men keep raiding neighbouring herdsmen like the Turkana to collect enough for dowry. Only then can they move to establish their own homes.
Nanya's sons-in-law had not raised enough dowry. So when their wives passed away, they left and did not take the children with them.
So in her 70s, Nanya got a new role to play � guardian and breadwinner for the grandchildren. Her husband could not bear this loss and left. She is told that he lives with a younger woman in another Karamoja district (Karamoja has three districts � Kotido, Moroto and Nakapiripirit).
So when she looks at the graves in the homestead and remembers that Aids has traded her a heavy blow, she is angry at her community and its lack of acceptance of reality.
"Donors should come to Karamoja and help the people. We are all dying and nobody is coming out to educate people on the disease," she says in Kiswahili.
Nanya has joined a few other women in Kaabong Women's Group to sensitise others on Aids. Theirs is a tough calling, explains the group's founder, Grace Loumo.
"The Karamojong know different wars that they have been fighting over time and to them spending energy on HIV/Aids is not important. They must raid and accumulate herds of cows. But our group must visit grandmothers, mothers and guardians taking care of Aids orphans to give them support," she says.
The Karamojong consider their war against the Lord's Resistance Army warriors as the most important calling, and raiding of other communities' cows as a lifestyle.
Because of the abundance of cattle, the Karamojong marry up to four wives and when the husband dies, a brother inherits the wives. Women and children are a measure of a man's property and a rich man must have a large herd of cattle.
With those living with Aids afraid to come out, fighting the pandemic is an uphill task in the community. While Uganda's official statistics indicate that infection has gone down to about five per cent, the Karamojong have not changed their lifestyle despite the acclaimed 100 per cent awareness level.
"Many know that 'slim' exists but they will not accept that it is afflicting them. Our children are dying and no aggressive anti-Aids campaign is going on here. The priority given to our people is disarmament," says Loumo, a social worker in the community.
The Karamoja area occupies about 10 per cent of Uganda and borders Kenya and Sudan. It has a population of about 600,000, and has always been marginalised for its perceived hostility and underdevelopment. During the colonial era, one needed a special pass to go there.
"This tag has made the area lag behind in development. The rampant insecurity has also contributed to our area's poverty," says Loumo.
If HIV/Aids must to be accorded the importance it deserves in the Karamoja area, efforts must be taken to educate the people, she adds. Only then will people like Nanya sleep without fear of being seen as the village's "curse bringer" for talking openly about the Aids.
Comments\Views about this article
