HIV/AIDS….An inspiring story

A tough story this one. So, when you meet that cute lady in the pub who is all over you, think twice. Or even thrice

Plagiarized from Daily Nation

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I am an HIV-positive rapper with a positive mentality.

My journey, my tormenting, life-changing journey, began in a bar sometime in 2010. There was so much demanded of me, and so much that I demanded of myself.

My wife had expectations of me that I didn’t seem to be meeting, and so she had turned into what we men like calling “a nag”.

There was too much strife between us, but other than the domestic issues I had other mountains to climb. I should have carried the right gear, but I didn’t... 

There is a new music video called 'Inuka Sasa' (Rise Now) that is doing the rounds in Kenya’s entertainment circles.

In one of the scenes it features a man in a bar, straddled by two skimpily dressed women. As he caresses the beauties, the man seems lost in the erotic moment, consumed by the fires in his groin.

That man was me, Richard Amuok, a few years ago. Life on the fast lane was such a blissful thing to me, and erotica such a nice topping of my night life, that I couldn’t extract myself from the snare. If you know me, you know what I’m talking about. If you don’t, allow me to jog your memory a bit before we get into this story.

I was one of the first rap and hip-hop artistes in the country, and so committed was I to those two genres of urban music that I was a founder member of two of the biggest musical groups of the late 1990s; The Achong Pong Clan and Ukoo Flani.

You might have seen me in nightclubs, doing the rounds and generally having a merry time. Well, that is no more, because I am now HIV-positive. I confirmed my status in 2012 after living in denial for two years after an irresolute initial test in 2010.

I first tested for HIV in December 2010. It was funny. Funny and curious. The first test came back positive, and so, as is the convention, the medic had to do two more tests.

I remember how exhilarated I was when both tests returned negative results. The medic asked me to go back after three months for another test but I did not. I did not want to know. Not knowing, I felt, was the better option.

Even though I presented with all the signs and symptoms of an ailing body, I just continued playing dumb.

TOUGH RAPPER

To tell you the truth, at the back of my mind there was this nagging voice that kept nudging me to go for a more comprehensive HIV test, but I was a tough rapper, and tough rappers do not listen to stupid nagging voices in their heads.

The fact that I was unwell was evident; I had a stubborn rash all over my body that I could not seem to get rid of; I had the oral thrush; I was having weak spells and generally felt bad a lot of the time; and then I had these malaria bouts that just would not go away.

They were all opportunistic infections, I knew, but I continued living in a fog of fear and anxiety because I just couldn’t bring myself to confirm it. My health was deteriorating so fast because I drank heavily. I smoked bhang, chain-smoked cigarettes and wasn’t very keen on my feeding.

The symptoms would go away and then come right back after completion of the medication. I lost a tonne of weight. By the time I decided to just go and confirm it in 2012, I had become a shell of my former self.

Those close to me kept sending hints, but I totally ignored all of them and went on as if nothing was the matter. I was in denial.

In fact, the only reason I eventually went for the confirmatory test was that a friend coerced me to walk into an HIV/Aids awareness tent. I thought he was just joking, but now that I think of it, I think I can remember a stern look on his face.

It’s been long — three years, to be exact— but, unless my mind is playing games with me, I think the man actually coerced me to take the test. Brilliant friend, that one. It was as if he knew it already and just wanted me to confirm it. Actually, sometimes I feel like all my friends knew of someone I had slept with who had the virus, but they couldn’t face me and say it.

When I received the test results I was crushed and became bitter with myself. How could I have done this to myself? I know it will be hard for you, dear reader, to understand why one would get mad at oneself over an HIV test, so let me help you understand why.

This journey, this tormenting, life-changing journey, began in a bar sometime in 2010. There was so much demanded of me and so much that I demanded of myself.

My wife had expectations of me that I didn’t seem to be meeting, and so she had turned into what we men like calling “a nag”. There was too much strife between us, but other than the domestic issues I had other mountains to climb.

In spite of having graduated with a Bachelor of Science degree in Information Technology from Jomo Kenyatta University of Agriculture and Technology in 2003, I had not found any job worth the credentials.

All I got were temporary teaching jobs and the music business wasn’t doing very well.

So the bar became a very tranquil place for me. It was more peaceful than home. And it was here that I met her.

She was beautiful. Agreeable. Nice. Lovely. Shapely. And, most importantly, not a nag.

She was my escape and comforter when I felt harassed at home. She was nice, but also, as I would learn years later, a very dangerous woman.

I wouldn’t really say I was promiscuous as she was the only other woman other than my wife with whom I slept without protection.

Well, there may have been another one here or there, but I used protection with those, so maybe I was careless. Or promiscuous. Or just foolish. I don’t know.

So why didn’t I use protection with this one, you ask. I wish I could answer that, but if I do I might end up lying to you.

All I know was that she looked nice, smelled fresh and felt quite the healthy woman. I had no reason to believe there was anything wrong with her.

We were together for about a month before drifting apart, and that was it. She disappeared without a trace, leaving me with so many unanswered questions.

But the people in my clique seemed to understand what kind of woman I had been with.

Due to self-stigma, I relocated to the Burukenge slum neighbourhood of Mombasa. I felt like the scum of the Earth who did not deserve anything better.

Already, I had separated with my wife in 2010 after my first test, and she had taken our two children to her rural village, where she sought a new life.