Zeppi, pictured above, says being ostracised by his family was like being in the world, but not a part of it. - Ian Allen/Staff Photographer

'Wah mi guh through, mi nuh want not even a animal guh through ... I went down to nothing, I couldn't even siddung up ...'

Paul H. Williams, Gleaner Writer

In many rural communities everybody knows everybody. And minding your business usually means minding everyone else's. On Friday night, in the village square bar, the alligator bread and sprat will be broken, bit by bit, until everybody receives a piece. On the day before market day, Maas Claudie's donkey will not rest until all the yam is removed from the field.

At the four-hour funeral, everybody will get a chance to pay tribute: Miss Joyce must say how happy she was to have received a bedspread from the village ram, now deceased, upon his return from farm work in 1969. And, having said that, she must make it clear to all and sundry that she was like a second wife to him, that is if his wife wishes to speak the truth.

But the veneer of rustic innocence can be just that - a veneer.

In the late 1990s, in a north St. Mary community in St. Mary, and for a particular man, this spirit of camaraderie and unity was broken when a stranger entered and turned the life of a couple upside down. An uninvited third party silently gnawed away at the woman's being, until her man, Zeppi, went to get a clean bill of health to be cleared for employment. HIV, it was found, had taken up residence in his body. Betsy, who had been very sick for some time, was encouraged to get tested. The disease was, in fact, killing her.

The shock

News of his infection was shocking, but that of his partner's was even more devastating.

Zeppi: "I feel blank because I know that I wouldn't get the job ... I was shock ... I think our life was over, death is going to come soon, all sort a things a run through mi mind ... and my girlfriend was so sick."

And the blame game started. Zeppi, admitting to having been unfaithful, swore that he never engaged in unprotected sex.

Zeppi: "Because I know when I go out there, I protect myself." With his spouse, there was no need for prophylactics. But her family blamed him for her death, which occurred one year after she tested positive. Both families were divided over the source of the virus.

The innocence of the idyllic village was shattered. Distrust and fear also moved in, and life, as it was for Zeppi in his prime, took a lonely and scornful turn. His own family circle was broken for he was now an outcast among his siblings, most of whom still want nothing to do with him. His only child, apparently embarrassed by her father's predicament, has abandoned him, just as have most of his friends, neighbours, and associates.

"I was in the world, but not a part of it," Zeppi lamented.

Seeking refuge

So, he went to seek refuge in the Church. But he got no solace as congregation avoided him as they would a leper. And when a pastor at a crusade denied him baptism, he realised that Daniel's God, from whom he sought deliverance, was not necessarily in the Church.

"To be happy in my life, I just keep by myself, because yuh know if yuh go to a place, and when yuh go people drawing away, is not a good sign," Zeppi said.

Over the years, this wholesale ostracism, combined with the non-treatment of the condition, deepened the crisis.

Zeppi: "To tell you the truth, it never easy, it never easy, because after she died I went through one of the (most terrible) experience in my life ... In them time deh medication wasn't like now, so I find my body getting weaker and weaker."

Unable to buy expensive medication, Zeppi's condition worsened, and after years of feeding on his immune system, HIV matured into AIDS. Massive weight and hair loss set in; fingernails turned black and fell out; and pustules dotted his body.

"Wah mi guh through, mi nuh want not even a animal guh through ... I went down to nothing, I couldn't even siddung up; I was so thin, I feel seh mi dead ... lots of pain, yeah man, couldn't eat eenuh, my stomach was sore ..."

Throughout all of this, he wasn't scared; it was the physical pain that killed his will to live.

Weak, emaciated and hardly breathing, Zeppi lay on his bed waiting - day in, day out - to die. Nobody took him to hospital, nobody went to get treatment for him. His elderly mother, playing nurse, would check on him regularly, touching his feet, assuring herself that he was still alive. Any slight movement was hoped for her. But more hope would come in the form of an 'angel' on Earth.

One day, Zeppi said he garnered some strength and decided to take a stroll. When he was ready to return, he realised he could not walk - he was too weak. So, he simply lay on the ground along the road, every iota of hope faded.

But in true biblical fashion, a good Samaritan crossed his path - and his life changed forever.

Among other things, the woman who found him introduced him to the St. Ann regional office of Jamaica AIDS Support for Life (JAS) where he was surprised at the high level of acceptance - people actually hugged and shook hands with persons living with HIV/AIDS.

Through the continued help from the Earth angel and JAS, he has been pulled from the brink of death, and has been associated with that institution since. Zeppi has gone there for check-ups, medication, counselling, and to socialise with other persons living with the disease.

To live with the virus, Zeppi must take his antiretroviral drugs twice daily. The drugs are provided free by JAS. A vegetable-centred diet is ideal, but expensive. Missing a day's dosage of medicine can cause setbacks, so too can any form of infection. Keeping healthy, therefore, is of paramount importance to him. Thus, nowadays, his favourite mantra is 'abstinence, abstinence, abstinence'.

However, he has a warning for young people who are sleeping around.

"Do a test and mek sure that if they are negative, well they try to protect (themselves), if they find (themselves) positive, they try to get treatment, because if they don't get treatment it gonna be worse on them." Stern words from a man who has been there, and who still has some rivers to cross.

Steady work is hard to come by, and with an elderly mother for whom to care, living hand to mouth isn't just a punchline - it's reality.

But, at 40, struggling with a life-threatening disease has only triggered a survival instinct - and he is emboldened by his lust for life and a jovial and witty personality to boot.

Flashing a bright smile, he delivered a parting shot, perhaps to those purveyors of discrimination against HIV-positive persons: "Yuh see when yuh living with AIDS and people around yuh don't understand and don't have the love, it would be very hard, very hard, but if yuh living with it and people have love and understanding (and) who can help you through it, it would be very easier."

Name changed to protect identity

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