‘What can you do for us?’

Stories & photos by
the Rev Dr Francois Sieberhagen,
UBS Media Consultant
Click here for Togo factsheet

TOGO — After the meeting at the Salem Congregation of the Methodist Church in Lomé, the medical assistant at the church-run clinic for people with AIDS is waiting for an opportunity to speak to me. Looking me straight in the eye, Delfine Akolly asks, “Sir, what can you do for us?”

Taken aback for a moment, I reply, “I can only tell your story and pray that somebody will read it and respond in an appropriate manner. I don’t have money; I can just share the experiences I have had today.”

Photo: Kossi, a member of the Salem congregation of the Methodist Church of Togo. Photo: UBS/Francois Sieberhagen (TOG06DJ-86.JPG)
Kossi, a member of the Salem congregation of the Methodist Church of Togo. Photo: UBS/Francois Sieberhagen (TOG06DJ-86.JPG)

Perceptions

Mrs Akolly is also one of the initial group trained in Lomé by Konstanse Raen, the UBS HIV/AIDS Consultant for Africa. “That training changed my mind and helped me to be a Good Samaritan to those who are infected,” says Mrs Akolly. “I am now really trying to change other people’s perceptions and I have trained members of our Methodist Synod in how to handle those infected and affected.

Stigma

“I am trying very hard to help break down the stigma by training as many as possible of our church officials. They are responding well and we have achieved a lot since the major training sessions last year. I have not yet trained young people in Lomé, but I have done training in the north of the country.

“Those that I have trained are now making others aware of the issues of stigmatisation and we are trying to make an impact in our society in this way,” she says enthusiastically.

I ask her to describe her work at the clinic at the church.

Voluntary testing

“We advise those who have gone for voluntary testing,” she says. “We provide medical assistance and help with the purchase of antiretroviral drugs (ARVs). We help people to get onto the Global Fund programme, which subsidises the ARVs. If you are on the program you pay 1,000 CFA (US $2.00) a month to get the medicine; if you are not on the programme it costs you around 11,500 CFA (US$23.00).

Even so, some poor people cannot buy their ARVs any more. And Mrs Akolly’s clinic cannot afford to help them.

“They have stopped using the medicine because of the lack of money and we have run out of cash. People also need to supplement their diets with vitamins and that costs money also.”

Kossi, 30, has only paid for treatment twice since he was diagnosed in 2004. The rest of the time the clinic paid. “I stopped using the medicine in April this year,” he tells me, despairingly. The impact of the disease on his body is visible. “My legs are weak and I am struggling to move around,” he says. This father of two children, both HIV-negative, is too poor to help himself, and his only means of buying treatment has gone.

Normal life

Photo: Amélé, 37, a mother of four, tested positive for AIDS in 2005 after her husband died. She is a member of the Salem congregation of the Methodist Church of Togo. Photo: UBS/Francois Sieberhagen (TOG06DJ-81.JPG)
Amélé, 37, a mother of four, tested positive for AIDS in 2005 after her husband died. She is a member of the Salem congregation of the Methodist Church of Togo. Photo: UBS/Francois Sieberhagen (TOG06DJ-81.JPG)

Amélé, 37, a mother of four, was tested in 2005 after her husband died. She came from rural Togo to Lomé in search of assistance. “I was initially treated for a general sickness, but I decided to go for the test and it was positive. I expected to die, but after I met Delfine she helped me to get my courage back and start to live again. She helped me to get onto the programme and I can now live a normal life.

“But I’m desperately in need of a vitamin supplement because my skin is showing signs of shortages in my system,” she adds, with concern.

Wanted to die

After she tested positive last year, Yowa, 40, just wanted to die; and had it not been for her sisters, she would have. “They convinced me that I could live and they have taken care of me, even up to today,” she says. “They help me pay for the medicine and they house me. They are very good to me. I am regaining my strength – although I do not feel well every day.”

A very healthy- and stylish-looking lady called Beatrice tells us how people cannot believe she is HIV-positive. “When I go to buy the medicine,” she says, “people think it is for somebody else. I am fortunate.

Another child

“But in some ways it is still very difficult for me: I want another child and I’m not sure it would be wise,” she says wistfully. “I am glad I met with Delfine because with her advice and the medicine I am doing well.”

Estelle Akouegnon, the Bible Society HIV/AIDS Coordinator, left a small sum of money for the clinic – not enough to make any significant impact, but enough to show that we had been touched by our visit. And we were touched. A congregation that dearly wants to make a difference in the lives of at least 25 people is struggling to fulfil its commitment because it has “run out of cash.”

Infection rate

This will be the story in future: the infection rate is on the increase and more and more people will need help to buy drugs. The question “What can you do for us?” echoed in my head for a long time after we had left. This story refers to project 87813. (WR 407/17 - 12.06) [3 photos]