The Holy Bible in Hosea 4:6 (NIV) reminds us: “My people are destroyed from lack of knowledge.”
Many people continue to shun knowledge at their own peril. In my experience, the most difficult individuals to advise about their health are those in denial about their HIV-positive status.
I have lived with HIV for over three decades, and my journey has taught me powerful lessons about survival, acceptance, and the importance of disclosure.
In my family of four, three of us — myself, my wife, and our now 32-year-old daughter — are HIV positive.
Yet today, we live healthy lives, and our daughter is raising three HIV-negative, thriving children. This reality alone speaks volumes.
My suspicion that I was HIV positive dates back to the late 1980s, when HIV and Aids first became widely discussed.
At the time, the disease was associated with specific groups — sex workers, drug users, and homosexuals.
While I did not identify with all those categories, I had engaged in risky sexual behavior, including unprotected encounters, and had suffered from sexually transmitted infections. Deep down, I feared I was already infected.
For nearly a decade, I lived under that shadow without confirmation.
That fear led me into a reckless lifestyle. I lost direction, eventually losing my job at the Department of Taxes, where I had worked since 1983.
I lived as though each day was my last, convinced there was no future ahead of me.
It was not until 1999, while admitted for tuberculosis treatment at St Luke’s Hospital near Lupane, that I finally got tested.
A doctor encouraged TB patients to undergo HIV testing, explaining that even without treatment at the time, knowing one’s status was empowering. After much hesitation, the five of us agreed to take the test.
When the results came, fear was written on our faces. We did not need words — we all knew. Within two months, all four of my fellow patients had died.
Their deaths were not just due to illness, but also shock, fear, and lack of acceptance.
Disclosure and lessons learned
At first, I did not disclose my status to my wife, Mai Simba. I believed it was unnecessary.
For 18 years, she avoided testing out of fear of a positive result, and we lived cautiously, practicing protected sex.
Eventually, both she and our daughter tested positive — most likely infected by me. I apologised sincerely, and together, we chose to face reality rather than hide from it.
When I disclosed this to my siblings, I was met with anger and accusations of bringing shame to the family. Still, I refused to retreat into silence.
I spoke openly — to colleagues, community members, students, and local authorities.
Many thought I had lost my mind. But I chose openness over secrecy, because I realised it is better to be misunderstood and alive than to be accepted and dying in silence.
I have since lost three brothers, two of whom passed away with their entire families after refusing to accept their HIV status.
They attributed their illness to witchcraft instead of seeking treatment. I have also lost many friends and colleagues who once pitied me but later succumbed to the same disease they denied.
In contrast, members of our support group, formed in 2004, are living testimonies of the power of disclosure and treatment.
Many were once critically ill but are now living healthy lives due to accepting their status and adhering to antiretroviral therapy (ART).
Those who have lived long with HIV will tell you: survival begins with disclosure, followed by consistent treatment.
Disclosure brings mental freedom and a free mind contributes to physical healing. This aligns with the wisdom found in proverbs about the connection between the mind and the body.
Today, my wife, my daughter, and I speak openly about our status without shame.
We live positively, united by truth, forgiveness, and resilience.
Disclosure did not destroy us it saved us.
Next week, I will share how I met and married Mai Simba, and how we have navigated 37 years together in love, faith, and resilience despite HIV.
Those interested in my book “The Extra Time” (2024) can contact me on the number below.