Africa is home to roughly 16 percent of the entire world's population.
69 percent of these people are living with HIV/AIDS.
70 percent of the people who died due to AIDS were African.
1 of them was Susan.
Susan is not a percentage, she is not a number, she is not a statistic.
In 2011, I went to Zambia for the very first time and met Susan. She was very tiny, but very full of spirit. She was the loudest, the goofiest, and the most snuggly little girl I had ever known. I loved Susan. I loved her more than I had ever loved a child. She was the sole reason I wanted to continue working in Zambia. She was the reason I became so passionate about orphan care. She was the first child I led to Jesus. She was my daughter of the spirit.
She was about nine years old at the time but I easily carried her like a toddler, not uncommon in Zambia, but still strange. She explained to me that her mother died when she was very young and she didn't know why. But she loved her grandmother and didn't think much on her mother. She was happy, she was smiling, but little did I know there was a disease ravaging inside her little body, passed down from her mother, that would later end it.
In 2012 when I saw Susan she had told me that she had been sick. She described her symptoms of what seemed to be a virus, her older sister said she was OK and just not feeling well. I was worried but I trusted her sister's opinion. While at camp she fell and hit her head, leaving a gash. She told me it was an accident, that she was running and she tripped. Though now I am pretty sure she fell from exhaustion.
In 2013 and 2014, I realized what was happening: HIV/AIDS, the worst nightmare coming to life. There is such a stigma on AIDS that parents won't allow their kids to be tested because they don't want to know. They would rather watch their children die then know they were HIV+.
2015. Susan was giving up. Her body was giving up. She was so small and weak that she couldn't walk more than 10 steps without having to lay down and breathe. She couldn't stand for too long. She had been missing school. She could barely eat. She was dying. In and out of the hospital, but her family still unwilling to admit the fact she was HIV+ solely because of their reputation. It was too late, we had waited too long to realize the severity of her condition.
So we prayed, we prayed for the stigma to disappear. We prayed for a miracle. We prayed that the Lord would heal her and let her grow up. It was as if the disease was too strong that Jesus just had to take her up and heal her Himself, then October 27th, at age 13, Susan went to be with Jesus.
We rejoice in the fact that she is no longer in pain. We are sober in the knowledge that we will see her again. But we hurt, we hurt because in our eyes she is Susu: goofy, fun, loud, and gives the best hug you ever got. But to others, she is a statistic. An AIDS orphan becoming part of that 70 percent.
She is not a statistic. She is not a number. She is a soul, a spirit, just as the others living with HIV/AIDS are.
My family is would like to give a huge thank you to Family Legacy for providing Susan & other children like her with a chance to be all they want to be. We would also like to thank the staff who was with her in her last days and made her feel so loved during her time on earth.
We love you Susu, thank you for changing us all. You will never be forgotten.
