This post is an excerpt from "Medicine Movers," written by Daphne Northrop, and videos by Emily Judem
EAST LONDON, South Africa -- Nine-month-old Alime and his grandmother Cynthia sit at a table piled with pill bottles, cardboard cartons, and syringes. There are 19 items in all.
The squiggly Alime, who traveled that morning on his grandmother’s back to the hospital, happily munches on a cookie while the pharmacist counsels his grandmother on when he should take each of his medicines and how much to give him. It’s hard to believe such a tiny boy needs so many pills to survive.
Alime has been HIV-positive since birth. His treatment seems to be working. His weight has doubled, and as he smiles and gurgles quietly in Cynthia’s arms, he looks like a healthy toddler. He rarely takes his eyes off his grandmother, and he reaches out to touch her face as she talks.
Alime’s mother died of AIDS when he was just five months old, Cynthia says, her voice catching and grief pooling in her eyes. Now it’s up to her to care for her grandson.