Sunday Times (Johannesburg) - June 3, 2007

Her death mirrored that of Ian Phillips earlier in the week, who had been a contemporary of mine at university 30 years earlier.

My friend only knew for certain of his partner's status the day after her death, when the doctor told him. When she died, her CD count was less than 300, indicating full-blown Aids. Her death certificate says she died of natural causes.

The bits began to fall into place in her final days, though. On the evening before her admission to hospital my friend bought a home-testing kit for himself. His kit did not have the instructions in it, so he returned to the pharmacy to replace it. And then he bought one for her.

He tested negative; she positive. She could only say "Love you, goodnight," to him.

He SMSd me late that night to joyfully proclaim his negative status but said nothing about her result.

He showed me hers the next day, after her admission to hospital. Because she could not walk he had carried her down the flight of stairs from their flat to the waiting taxi. From the kit's results, it was obvious she was positive. But even then he seemed confused about the indicators and their accuracy. Or was it denial?

Even I said maybe the margin of error for home testing kits needed to be borne in mind. Was I playing for time?

The ramifications of their five months of unprotected, prolific sex together then began to sink in.

In hospital, he questioned her about whether she had suspected her status. But she said nothing. She had lost a lot of weight in the past five months.

Her cellphone contact list revealed an Aids hotline number. "When did you phone them?" he asked. But she claimed not to remember. On the final day of her life, the doctor told her she had Aids. She died just before midnight.

Soon after the start of their relationship, she said she wanted to carry his baby. Hardly the sign of someone who realises that they are going slowly, but surely, to their death. And they discussed marriage. He was due to meet her family on the Easter weekend.

My friend's world has fallen apart. "I'm scared," he said to me the night after her death, as we sat on the lawn under the stars. He turned his face away so I could not see the tears.

"I know you are scared but you must be tested."

"No," he said, "I will not."

I asked him: "How could both of you, as sex workers, demand that your clients use condoms when you did not together?"

"Sex is meant to be a loving thing," he replied. I kept quiet, but condomised sex is still loving, is it not?

"It is one day at a time for the next three months," I said. I sound as if I am counselling a recovering addict. Yesterday he told me that, while packing her belongings, he accepted that it will indeed be "one day at a time".

But it will be a long three months - for him, for me, as a trusted friend, and for the very few other friends he has told of his predicament. His father was angry when he heard the news.

Again I ask him if he will be tested.

"I will be tested when I am tested," he says. "Sounds very much like saying the earth is round, because it is round," I reply.

His partner went to her death with none of her family or friends knowing her status. They know now and are shocked. Her family apparently does not know that she was a sex worker who used her earnings to support them. Her sister died of Aids some time back.

The question remains: why did she not prevent him from having unprotected sex with her if she suspected she carried the virus? Was she vulnerable, scared of possible rejection? Did she deliberately expose him to infection? Did she want a "loving relationship?"

We will never know.

However, the battle to convince my friend to know his status will continue. But it is his decision. I pray and trust that he will have the courage to undergo a blood test.

# Clinical psychologists Khumo Seopela and Kgamadi Kometsi are offering HIV counselling free every Saturday between 9am and noon at 4Biermann Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg. Bookings are on a first-come, first-served basis.

To book, fax 011-280-5151, or e-mail: counselling@sundaytimes.co.za The sessions will be private.

Get five friends to know their status

Take an HIV test and get five other people to do the same. Make it clear that no one has to disclose their results. Ask each of them to get another five people to do the same, and so on.

Let us know why you decided to join the campaign. We would welcome any feedback or anecdotes of experiences that you have while participating in the campaign.

Send your stories - with pictures, if possible - to: reach5@sundaytimes.co.za

Send us your name and the names of your five people so that we can publish a list of people who take part. Please note: we do not want to know the results of any test.

You can get tested at your doctor or at your local clinic. For a list of clinics, go to www.sundaytimes.co.za/specialreports

# Join our band of heroes in the battle against Aids

# Database Of All Art Facilities In South Africa

# National Vct Site List For 2005

Share your story

Everyone Knows Someone is a Sunday Times campaign to encourage people to know their HIV status, and is aimed at destigmatising the infection.

We publish the personal experiences (and, where the writer feels comfortable, photos) of people in South Africa living with HIV or caring for loved ones with the virus. The stories appear in the newspaper or on our website. We will use as many as we can.

E-mail your story to: Everyone knows@sundaytimes.co.za or fax it to 011-280-5151

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