Christine said:"When I'm gone, Aida will have to take on a lot of responsibility. I am trying to live for as long as I can for her sake."

"Does she know about it?"

Christine looked at me in surprise.

"Of course she knows about it."

"What did you tell her?"

"What had to be said. She will become the mother of her brothers and sisters, and if my parents are still alive she will become their new daughter once I'm gone."

"How did she react?"

"She was distressed. What else would you expect?"

We went to the car that was parked in the shade of some tall trees whose name I have never managed to remember. I had said goodbye to everybody, and worked out that Christine's family comprised sixteen people. Christine, who had been a schoolteacher and still worked whenever she had the strength, was the only one in this large family who had any income, and even that was extremely modest. She had a very direct way of assessing her wages in relation to her own fate.

"The monthly cost of antiretroviral drugs is precisely twice what I earn."

She shook her head before continuing.

"Obviously, you have to ask yourself if it is the drugs that are too expensive, or if it's me who isn't earning enough. The answer is straightforward. My small wage has always been sufficient to feed my family, but it's not enough money to save me from death."

So Christine wasn't taking any medication at all. She said she felt more weary now than she had done the previous year. She had been feeling ill for seven years. When her husband suddenly began losing weight and fading away, she knew. The day after her husband died, she went for a test. The result was no surprise. She kept everything to herself for a year. Then she told people, first her sister and then her mother. Whereupon her sister told her that she too was ill.