mother to HIV kids

IT’S heart-wrenching for a mother to watch her loved one die in her arms; “only five years old, that child is innocent, has done nothing with his life and it’s just wasted away”. That youngster died of AIDS.

Such was Jacqueline John’s experience when one of the children she had nurtured and cared for passed away at the Cyril Ross Centre of the St Vincent De Paul society in El Dorado. “Before he reached the hospital he died. It’s something I will never forget. When they die I always feel my stomach turning like an ice-cream pail turning. It’s sad,” said Jacqueline a supervisor at the centre. She  has been with the centre for nine years in the ten years of its existence and has grown to love each of the children as her own. Jacqueline is a single parent mother of three children — Keston, 22, Keisha, 17 and Stefon 14. She leaves her Pinto Road, Arima, home for work at ten on mornings and doesn’t sign out until her work is done, that may mean at 7 or 8 at nights. “I don’t have a time to leave, it’s when I finish my duty. Sometimes a child might take in and we have to take them to the hospital,” said Jacqueline, which equates longer hours in anticipation of a positive outcome.

Jacqueline always had a desire to help others and this was manifested when she joined the team at the Finbar Ryan Geriatric Home and later the Home for the Aged. Now at the Cyril Ross Centre, Jacqueline’s duties are not entirely different. Though supervisor, she functions in the capacity of feeding, bathing, cleaning and taking care of the children. “I love my job. I have no regrets. It gives me a different meaning to life. You don’t take things for granted. I’ve been taught to be more loving, more understanding and how to react better,” she said. The centre houses 34 children (17 boys and 17 girls), all of whom are HIV carriers, “most of whom do not have parents, others who never knew their parents, and some are born to parents who abused drugs,” Jacqueline informed.

Out of a staff of 19, there are four supervisors, one teacher, a volunteer doctor and nurse. “We try to implement health care and we work a three-shift system so the children are well taken care of.” It’s a heart-warming sight to observe the youngsters interact with “Mummy Jackie” as they fondly call her. She pointed to one of the boys, a pre-schooler, whom she sighted as reason enough to remain put in her job. “He follows me around all the time, he’s a loving child,” she said. The average age of the children at the centre range from nine months to 18 years. Unfortunately, “there’s no more room at the centre to take in any more children that’s why we have a Cyril Ross Outpatient Clinic. We have at least 20 children in that clinic.”

It may appear to some as a drastic move from taking care of the elderly to children who are HIV positive. Jacqueline responded: “We have had a lot of negativity in the past. People come in here and ask if they need to put on gloves to play with the children, but the public needs to be educated on how to deal with the virus. My children grew up playing here. Thanks to doctors Everest Nosa and David John for giving us the knowledge about the medication and the virus so we could work with the children. “I treat them the same way I treat my children. I try to be a good listener, patient, more understanding and I try to show them not because they are HIV positive they should give up on life. They are no different from any other. I even spoil them,” said Jacqueline. “I teach them ethics, values, morals, goals, to aim high, to not get discouraged and don’t let anybody bring you down. It’s nice to see them grow up from a baby.”

Discipline, too is essential. “It depends on the child’s age, the younger ones would get time out, five minutes to sit down and cool off and the big ones would get no television and will have to take up a book.” The children love “Mummy Jackie”. “They like to make fun of my weight. They would say things like ‘ah thought yuh say yuh losing weight and yuh drinking Chubby’. They love music. If you put it on the radio everybody would get up and dance.” Rare cases arise when the virus becomes full blown (progressing to Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome — AIDS). “You see them lose weight in front of you, they lose their hair. It’s not something I want to experience again, but thanks to the anti-retro viral treatment...,” Jacqueline said.

The AIDS victim is placed in the isolation room “for peace and tranquillity”. In most cases the children are unaware of what’s happening to them. “At five years you just know you sick and something is wrong with you... Sometimes they will ask for all types of things to eat like KFC and pizza but they can’t eat it, but I try to please them so we buy it and they will keep it there for the whole day. It’s sad. I know it’s wrong but I buy everything they ask for.” Although five years is about the longest any child has stayed there, the loss of any child, newcomer or not is still “a great blow” to Jacqueline and her colleagues. “We would sit together and picture the child, how he or she was. Sometimes we catch ourselves crying and laughing at the same time... “I wouldn’t say it isn’t a tough job but it makes me more loving and appreciative of life. I always say it has its reward, not monetary, but there’s contentment, you just feel good about what you do. My future is here, I don’t see myself working somewhere else. I choose to be here...”