Steven

The man doesn’t have electricity, but he has a kilowatt smile that will blind you.  He’s five foot nothin’...100 pounds soaking wet...and holds the community in the palm of his hand.  He doesn’t ask for anything in return, yet works 25 hours a day, eight days a week.  I’ve never known anyone to be so dedicated, so mind-boggling determined to make the best out of any situation.  Yeah, I’ve learned a thing or two from Steven. 

And so, we make our rounds, visiting HIV patients who are too sick to come to the hospital, but Steven wants to make sure they are taking their ARVs.  He doesn’t get paid for this part of the job, this is just him being the saint that he is.  Biking next to Steven is ferocious.  I don’t know where his short legs got all that energy.  When we ride up to a large puddle, Steven takes off his shoes and dress socks, rolls his pants up and sloshes through the water, still with a smile on his face.  I’ve never met someone so chipper.

He treats every HIV patient with such dignity and kindness, which is a hell of a lot more than how they get treated by members of the community who know they are positive.  They know and love him.  He would give them the shirt of his back if they needed it.  He never says no to helping his friends.

You wouldn’t know it by looking, but Steven has HIV, too.  It’s never brought him down and it’s never something I ever think about unless he brings it up in casual conversation.  He is positive about being HIV Positive.  As he says, “No one but God knows when I am going to go and so I am just going to keep living.”

When the nursery school teacher protested that I didn’t provide an eraser for the chalkboard or enough colored pencils, Steven got angry and said “Anya Chirwa has provided us with these gifts and we should be grateful, not begging for more.”  It was the first and last time I ever saw Steven angry and he was sticking up for me.