The Courageous 20

Some smile widely, others barely sway in motion with the group. Tremulous voices join together in song testifying of hope, life and Jesus. Large eyes looking out of emaciated faces, beautiful bone structure highlighted. Some clearly stronger than others, yet together their voices gain strength and depth. Spirits lift as their songs continue.

Sitting huddled three or four to a bench, the traditionally clothed guardians meld into a rainbow of color. Joining the gathering quietly at first, in small groups, their posture slowly relaxes as they soak in the songs.

BOOM BOOM BOOM the drums start and goose bumps rise on my arms. The women in gray, the singers, now break into traditional dance. Traditional dances which display strength, vitality, and courage. The air fills with dust as feet pound the ground- challenging the idea that life, strength, and hope are gone. Voices raise and clapping crescendos- confronting fear and pain.

Children join the song enthusiastically clapping and cheering. The guardians stand almost simultaneously, the rainbow of color blossoming like a flower, filling the room. The traditional drumming signals the end of the song and with a charged energy the guardians, their children, and the students find their seats once again.

One by one the women in gray now stand alone. Each speaks with a surety, a strength which fills the atmosphere. Something is changing in the eyes and in the posture of the colorfully clothed guardians as they listen silently; they are smiling, they are really listening. Arms uncrossed they lean forward, now joining the applause of the children.

The women in gray traveled over the mountains on this Sunday afternoon to bring a message of life and hope to the women of our village. The women in gray are HIV /AIDS positive. In a culture where “the virus” is still very much misunderstood, where sufferers are considered outcasts, where admitting you are infected is taboo, these 20 women in gray are speaking up.

They speak quickly; I catch only a little of each speech. Instead I remain observant to the atmosphere around me. The colorfully garbed guardians, local women from our village, are slowly moving their chairs forward to the front of the room. Crowding five to a bench to be nearer to the words of hope the women in gray are speaking. Over and over I hear the words grace, life, and the name of Jesus. These women in gray speak with confidence- no false bravado, no false hope, and no fatality mindset.

A time for questions is offered. I see the guardians shifting uneasily in their seats. I wish the children were ushered out, giving the women the freedom to speak. Two students stand to ask questions. One, clearly uncomfortable, makes a joke about it, he is covering for his pain; he knows what AIDS can do to a family. The other asks a question that brings uneasy laughter- one woman in gray is breastfeeding her infant; how can she feed the baby when she has AIDS? The woman in gray stands to answer the student’s question, in a strong voice she explains current medication options, the precautions she is taking, and the reality that her window for breastfeeding is slim. I silently cheer the brave girl for standing to ask a hard question, and for the woman standing to answer in honesty.

The program comes to a close with a final song and prayer. Many of the colorfully garbed guardians in their traditional clothing disperse quickly. Some stand from a distance and just look at the group of women in gray. Students leave and children begin running about. The women in gray file out of the room towards the waiting van, preparing to head back over the mountains homeward. I thank the ones I can, shaking their hands and wishing them safe journey. Two students standing with me take a deep breath and greet the women as well. AIDS has forever changed the lives of the two students I am with, but they do not speak of it.

The brave women in gray are again ostracized. Students and guardians give them wide berth as they walk, my heart twinges in sadness. I know they are strong though, and I don’t see hurt or anger in their faces, in their eyes- I see acceptance, and kindness.

I am thankful for their message. I am thankful for their hope. I am thankful for the courage of these 20 women in gray.