Telling

She stood in the room and told her story. Her voice was barely a whisper. Others encouraged her to speak.

She was small and dark. Thin. Above her right eye was a big swelling.

She spoke about how she had been sick for so long. And how she had been so sad but had been helped by ladies from a church fellowship that she went to prayers for. She talked about starting on medications for HIV and that she had become so much better. She told us that she had started working again.

Our friend was sharing her story with a group of people who knew what she was talking about. Most of those in the room were HIV positive themselves.

She carried on talking. Last week she felt sick again. A fever. A crushing headache. She was so scared that this would mean her losing her job. She didn't want to stop working.

She prayed. Called on the name of Jesus. And went to sleep.

When she woke up she was so much better.

Her voice remained barely audible as she told her story. But her eyes flashed through moist eyes.

She walked back to her seat enfolded by the applause of everyone in the room.

Another friend with HIV - sharing slices of who they are - at the monthly Positive Friends support group meeting.