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There are real people behind HIV/AIDS figures

• His name was Bongi and he was four years old. I met him during a church leaders' tour to the HIV/AIDS-ravaged areas of Umgwavuma in Zululand. His mother was clearly dying and in her arms she held a six-month-old baby. Tucked away alone in a hut well off the beaten track, the family had not eaten for several days. In Bongi's hands was a jam tin of water, which he placed at his mother's lips for her to sip. Bongi told us he filled the tin from a nearby river every morning. "My mummy is very sick. I must look after her." When his baby sister began to cry, he pulled the blanket over her, patting her gently and soothing her with the words "Lala, lala" (sleep). Hungry though he must have been, his thoughts were only for his mother and sister. Both have subsequently died and Bongi is in care. He might be just another statistic in the unfolding orphan catastrophe, but I will never forget his compassion in the face of extreme suffering.
• Pretty, cute as a button, seven-year-old Christina was born of a Greek father and an African mother. She was collecting treasures for her memory box when I met her in a township near Port Shepstone. Through local voluntary counselling workers, she had been prepared to accept the reality that her HIV-positive mother would not be around for much longer and she would have to move to another home. In Christina's memory box was a woollen bonnet she had worn as a baby, a rusted teaspoon and a letter from her mother saying goodbye. She picked up two stones. "I'll take these with me," said Christina, two plaits swinging from beneath her beanie. "When I have my own house one day, I'll put them in front of my door and paint them blue. That's my mummy's favourite colour. Do you think she will see them from heaven?" "Yes," we all said. "Good. I want her to see I am not sick and will think about her for ever and ever."
• Princess is a nine-year-old primary school pupil who excels at art and arithmetic. She is also HIV-positive, but because she has the benefit of quality home care and good nutrition, her immune system remains strong. Of all the children I have met during these past two years, she was the most informed and outspoken about her status. "I tell people I am HIV positive. If they don't like me, it doesn't matter. They're silly - not me." She calls her virus "the pest", but believes that if she looks after herself, she will be fine. I asked her what she wanted to do when she grew up. "Just live," she said.


No story of children and the impact they can have on the course of the HIV/AIDS epidemic would be complete without the mention of Nkosi Johnson, whose short but extraordinary life and his brave battle against HIV/AIDS moved the entire nation.

I remember sitting with him and his mother Gail beneath the great red ribbon in the memorial gardens near the Workshop hours before he was due to address the World AIDS Conference at the ICC.

He looked up at the steel ribbon glinting in the sun, and said: "I have to tell everyone in the world that you must be kind and caring to people like me. I'll tell them they can hug and kiss people like me and they won't get sick. I hope they listen."

After Nkosi died, Nelson Mandela spoke about him on International Children's Day, June 1, 2000.

"He was an example for the whole world to follow."