I was 6 years old ...

She sits up with a deep sigh. I take off my reading glasses. We are halfway through the book. A kind of African version of W.G. van der Hulst. A book that gives you the feeling of "outside it is storming and inside it is cozy and warm at Moesie ..."

Her eyes stare into nothing… She is unaware of the hospital ward and her head covered in sores. She is 11 years old and HIV positive.

"I was 6 years old and I had to take care of the baby," she begins. "My mother was in prison and I lived with my aunt." She looks in the direction of a newborn baby in the cot next to her. ‘Ik was 6 jaar en ik moest voor de baby zorgen’, begint ze. ‘Mijn moeder zat in de gevangenis en ik woonde bij mijn tante’. Ze kijkt in de richting van een pasgeboren baby in het bedje naast haar.

"I gave the baby the bottle and changed the diaper. I would bathe the baby and if it cried I would make it quiet again. "

"Sometimes when I wanted to go outside, I tied the baby on my back ..."

6 years old…. In my mind I see my 5-year-old son…. Unimaginable!

"My aunt always didn't come home until midnight. I was afraid of the dark. I had the door locked and I gave the key through the window to my aunt when she got home. My aunt left at 5 in the morning. "

It remains silent ...

I keep looking at her, with my head in my hands ... waiting ...

"My mother's blood was sick too, just like mine ..."

"She had a boyfriend. And they did things together in front of me, you know… .. "I told my mom not to do that. That is not allowed if you are so sick. "

"It was a bad friend. He hurt my mother. "

"My mother kept getting sicker and then she had to go to the hospital."

She looks at her IV.

"They didn't have those tubes there. And no button you can press when you need the nurse. "

"It was a bad hospital. Three people died there in a week. "

"My mother tried to get up, but then she fell."

"They brought her back to her bed and closed the door. Then she died. I was not there…'

It remains silent for a long time…. (Her mother died six months ago)

"My mother used to pray, but she was also often drunk."

"My grandmother used to go to church, but she stopped. I can't sing "Prys die Lord" and then come home and hear nothing but curses, she said ... "

"But I am happy to be able to live with my aunt next month. He doesn't drink. Only on Friday, Saturday and Sunday. "And on Saturday she goes to church"

"I want to live a long life with my family"

"My grandmother says that if a boy asks you to marry him, you have to think about it for 2 weeks before you answer ..."

I tell her that I think 2 weeks is very short and that I was friends with Uncle Erwin for 4 years before I married him.

She looks at me for a long time and says; "Then I will do that too; 4 years…!'

She continues "My Grandma waited 5 years before she married my Grandpa ... they had 12 children ..."

Time flies… It is almost 7 in the evening and I need to go to my family.

I thank her for her life story. Now I can pray even better for her.

Sweet, brave child!

(by Ida Born)