Funerals and death notices

On the surface, Manzini seems to be quite a prosperous and youthful city, although a bit on the sleepy side. The streets are crawling with the latest Toyota models, well-heeled ladies and gents dart in and out of shops, and even the fruit vendors chat on cell phones.
There is little in the city to indicate the severity of the AIDS epidemic in Swaziland. There are, of course, a few clues: billboards advertising condoms; USAid, AusAid and World Vision trucks buzzing around; and government-sponsored “Mobile Wellness Testing Units” (vans set up for HIV testing) parked on the city streets... But an unobservant visitor to the city might be convinced that all is well in the Kingdom of Swaziland.
I wasn’t too surprised by this. After all, it is the rural poor who are hardest hit by the epidemic, right? But I couldn’t help but wonder how much HIV and AIDS were affecting those I work around every day. And the longer I spend here, the more I realize that the epidemic is right here in Manzini’s cafes, shops and salons.
A friend of mine has spent the last two weekends attending funerals. A cousin, a nephew and a co-worker. All three died of AIDS. I didn’t get that last bit of information from my friend until I asked. “He was sick,” or, “she was sick” she had initially told me. I wasn’t sure how appropriate it would be to ask her what killed them, because I didn’t know how strong the stigma is amongst the urban middle-class. But finally I asked, and she answered frankly. She told me of her frustration with her cousin, who died when she was just in her mid-thirties. A bit of a party-girl, the cousin was diagnosed with HIV ten years ago. She had been sick on and off, but had never taken the anti-retroviral drugs (supplied free to all Swazis) regularly. She had continued to party, drink, sleep around... living, my friend felt, in denial of her diagnosis. My friend feels that if her cousin had taken the drugs and lived a healthier lifestyle she might have held on for a long time. She spoke about some of the myths that persist about anti-retrovirals... about how they make you sicker, make you fat, or even give you AIDS.
On her deathbed, the cousin admitted that she had continued to have unprotected sex even after getting being diagnosed with HIV. My God, what a burden to take to the grave.
The other day I flipped open the Swazi Times to the classifieds section. There, next to the used car ads, were the death notices. They were chilling. There were about forty altogether, listed in both English and SiSwati. Every notice had a picture, and I looked at row upon row of young faces... The same faces of the office workers and college students I see out in the streets of Manzini every day. Only about a quarter of them appeared to be over the age of forty.
One picture showed a young girl wearing a graduation cap. The notice gave details for the memorial service. “All graduates,” it added, “are asked to wear their academic gowns.”
Not one notice listed a cause of death.