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It’s the sort of stuff you read about in the news and see photos of on TV, so I’m not sure that I can reverse any desensitization that many of us feel when we see stories about HIV/AIDS, but this particular day changed it for me.

We pulled into a grassy compound with a number of small cottages filled with villagers awaiting treatment for HIV. The patients ranged in age from babies to about 50, what we would call middle-aged, but what Ugandans would call old. I have only seen two elderly women and one elderly man in my time here; life expectancy hovers around 59. The patients had undergone their various treatments, including the relatively recent addition of anti-retro viral (AVR) drugs, and they were waiting to speak to us to help us learn about their lives.

I spent most of my time with a group of teenagers. They were solemnly seated on a bench and appeared deep in thought, their minds, most definitely were somewhere else. These kids, ranging in age from 13-18, are all HIV positive and all had lost their parents to AIDS; some of them could not remember when.
Meet John Bosco, Alphanti Kigemuzi and Abdul Kareem

15 year old Alphanti Kigemuzi, a 2nd grader, told me in his soft-spoken way that he would like to be an engineer in the future, but he then stopped and amended gently, 'if life allows me to'.

Both of his parents are dead. His father died in 1998 and his mother died in 1999. He doesn’t have any brothers or sisters, so he lives with an uncle. Alphanti told me that he doesn’t remember when he became ill or when his parents died, and his case is typical. John and Abdul have similar stories.

John, a shy young man, is 18 and only in 2nd grade due to his illness.

Abdul Kareem is 16, lives with a grandfather, and doesn't remember when he became sick, although it was quite a long time ago.

These kids at least have one adult caring for them. This area became famous for child-headed families where a child as young as 9 would be raising the children that were orphaned due to AIDS.

It really hit home that these teenagers know that their fate is uncertain, and even the doctors are unsure about how their illness will progress or how long they will live. Although they feel less sick now with the medication and say they have no problem taking the drugs, the depression that surrounds the kids is striking. That's when it changed for me. It's not often that you have a group of teenagers hanging out together but don't interact with one another and don't exude any of the usual energy that teens are supposed to have.

It’s obvious, even to a non-medical outside observer like me, that these kids are sick - some of them very sick. I should mention that the doctors that treat these kids are not only hopeful but really proud to share what they have accomplished for these kids, primarily with funds from PEPFAR. I asked whether they had many journalists visiting, and the doctors found my question really amusing and laughed out loud. A group of journalists hearing their stories was an unexpected though much appreciated novelty.