The Christmas party

For little ones in an AIDS ravaged nation, one small treat at Christmastime becomes a treasure

By Sr. Suzanne Marshall, O.L.M.
Summer 2005

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Aondona is six years old now. However, I have known him since he first came to our pastoral care clinic for people living with HIV/AIDS five years ago, carried on his mother's back. Comfort, his mother, had many symptoms of AIDS: rashes, cough, weight loss and persistent fever. Her husband had sent her and Aondona back to her family when her symptoms became apparent, but Comfort's parents were too poor to care for them and sent them to live with a married sister. Aondona, whose name means "God gives", was 10 months old at that time, but he appeared to be even younger.

Comfort was screened for HIV and tested positive. We helped them with food and medical care and hoped that once she could feed herself and her child adequately, they both would improve. And so it was. With funding from us, Comfort began selling food in the market and both she and Aondona gained weight and their health improved.

Aondona showed no symptoms of AIDS and we thought that he had escaped the virus. But shortly after he turned four years old he began losing weight and developing rashes. Screening proved that he, too, was infected with HIV.

Aondona is lots of fun and full of life when he's not sick. He is a joy to Sr. Mary and to me, always at our side on support group meeting days, knowing that one of us will have a balloon, gum or candy in our pockets for him; if he's lucky, all three. Because he has managed to avoid continual sickness, we have not put him on antiretroviral treatment, but we monitor his health closely.

Antiretroviral drugs are very expensive and few people in Nigeria have the means to access them. However, thanks to generous friends in Canada we are able to provide a few children and adults with this treatment.

At our Christmas party last year, Aondona sat with a group of 16 small children quietly eating rice and playing on a mat. There were about 60 orphans and other vulnerable children at this party. Most were teenagers or preteens except for this small group of little ones on the mat.

When the gifts were brought out and set on a low table, all play stopped and the children's entire attention focused on the gift table. What captured their interest were two presents, one a shiny green truck with plenty of chrome, big wheels and a remote starter. The other was a gold handgun (though why anyone would buy a toy gun for this party was beyond me. This is Adikpo where the militia has terrorized the town since losing the elections here last October.)

Because the pastoral care workers hosting the party had limited resources, they brought home-cooked food and purchased soft drinks, suckers and balloons. They had only enough money remaining to buy 40 presents. They had not expected so many older teens to attend. After a quick consultation they held a lucky draw. Each child chose a number drawn out of a basket. A corresponding number was hidden on each gift. Those children who didn't get a gift would be given packages of biscuits and balloons.

Unfortunately they called the older children first to come forward with their number and collect their gift. The tension on the mat was tangible. In fact the group of little ones managed to move the mat they were sitting on closer to the table until one small hand rested on the table edge.

For a while it looked as if two children sitting on the mat would be lucky, for as the older ones came and went, the truck and gun remained on the table. But sadly their luck didn't hold. The gift table was bare and not one small child had been called. I could have wept for their disappointment. I expected to see tears and some fighting but they were quiet as they were called forward, given the biscuits and balloons and sent back to their place on the mat.

I drove some of them to their villages that evening. It was a beautiful evening. The intense dry heat of the day was gone, replaced by a gentle breeze, and the full moon was rising in front of us. Aondona sat beside me, his tiny fists closed, completely captivated with the thrill of a car ride especially at this twilight hour. From his perch on the seat, he intently watched everything through the windshield.

As we said goodnight, I was curious to know what he was clutching in his hand. I slowly unwrapped his little fingers and there, nestled in his tiny palm was the top from the soft drink bottle and the stick from his sucker, proof that he had indeed been to a Christmas party.

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