'No One Loved Me - Not Even God'

South Africa has made massive strides in HIV research and treatment, but what are the prospects for HIV-positive women who are pregnant now?

- Philippa Garson

When Irene Nkosi took to the stage at a glossy Moms+SocialGood event in New York recently, it was hard to pair the confident woman in a striking, Swazi-inspired dress with her tragic story: “By the age of 16, not really even a woman yet, I was a parent. I was also a victim of rape and my attacker was never jailed,” Nkosi told the stunned audience. She went on to say how – after the birth of her second child – she was diagnosed with HIV.

“Now I was sure no one loved me – not even God.” Nkosi, from Bronkhorstspruit, Gauteng, South Africa, said the clinic didn’t educate her about HIV “or how to prevent my baby from infection”.

“I was heart-broken and frustrated. I feared for my life and the baby I was carrying.”

Hoping for support after sharing her status with family and neighbors, she was instead isolated and called names. Although she gave birth to an HIV-negative baby, it died after being smothered by a blanket. Nkosi believes crèche staff neglected her baby because of her own positive status.

Nkosi’s story took me back to 2005, to the Chris Hani Baragwanath Hospital in Soweto, South Africa, where I was researching the challenges faced by HIV-positive, pregnant women for a Media Fellowship on HIV at Wits University’s Journalism School.

The stories those women told were just as heartbreaking. Most of the women I interviewed were following the correct antiretroviral regimen to prevent HIV transmission to their babies, but for some, it was too late. Almost all of them carried the terrible burden of stigma and rejection by their families, partners and communities. Often, they were “outed” after feeding their babies the free government-issue formula milk in its distinctive orange tins to prevent HIV transmission. They would tell elaborate lies to explain why they were not breastfeeding.