www.blogs.targetx.comHuman beings almost never spontaneously hold a strangers hand, but, for Mathambo, it was natural. As I walked in front of him to the exam room, he took my hand in his, and, when I looked back, he smiled up at me.
As he did this, two other young children were walking toward us from down the hall. For a couple of seconds, it seemed as if Mathambo was going to clothesline the children, or at least make them physicially break his grasp (as we used to do while playing "red rover" in the school yard). Though I did not know Mathambo well, this did not seem in character. Sure enough, at the last minute, he raised his hand (with mine) and allowed them to pass.
“See. I am big!” he told me as he let our hands fall again. Mathambo, four and a half years old, was 15kg heavy and 95cm tall. This is big for a two and a half year-old, not a child nearly twice that. But, he was bigger than the oncoming pediatric traffic, and certainly bigger than he was a year prior, when he reached the median age at which untreated, vertically-infected children used to die before having access to ARVs. In any case, I was not about to refute him.
Once in the exam room, I looked over Mathambo’s chart and the boy himself, noting that he was doing well (undetectable virus, high CD4 count, no clinical evidence of disease, and still smiling). I told him and his mother this, and Mathambo began dancing.
I told him that his medication adherence was 100%, and he began dancing with even more vigor, shouting “I am big. I am big!” His choreography was reminiscent of the “grapevine", with sidesteps, stomps, and the occasional clap.
One of the red rover children that had been walking the clinic's halls must have heard the proclamations, for he opened the door. Younger, littler, and sicker than Mathambo, the child had thin limbs, visible ribs, and a melon-shaped tummy. His face had the aged appearance that remains when so-called baby fat is not there shape a baby’s face, leaving young skin hanging on young bones, baggy, protruding eyes, and loose jowls. The loose-jowled child giggled and bobbed his knees a few times in sync with Mathumbo’s beat.
“Big!” Mathambo reiterated.
Mathumbo’s emulating counterpart gave me a quick glance, giggled some more, and, with some effort, closed the wooden door.
“See. I am big!” he told me as he let our hands fall again. Mathambo, four and a half years old, was 15kg heavy and 95cm tall. This is big for a two and a half year-old, not a child nearly twice that. But, he was bigger than the oncoming pediatric traffic, and certainly bigger than he was a year prior, when he reached the median age at which untreated, vertically-infected children used to die before having access to ARVs. In any case, I was not about to refute him.
Once in the exam room, I looked over Mathambo’s chart and the boy himself, noting that he was doing well (undetectable virus, high CD4 count, no clinical evidence of disease, and still smiling). I told him and his mother this, and Mathambo began dancing.
I told him that his medication adherence was 100%, and he began dancing with even more vigor, shouting “I am big. I am big!” His choreography was reminiscent of the “grapevine", with sidesteps, stomps, and the occasional clap.
One of the red rover children that had been walking the clinic's halls must have heard the proclamations, for he opened the door. Younger, littler, and sicker than Mathambo, the child had thin limbs, visible ribs, and a melon-shaped tummy. His face had the aged appearance that remains when so-called baby fat is not there shape a baby’s face, leaving young skin hanging on young bones, baggy, protruding eyes, and loose jowls. The loose-jowled child giggled and bobbed his knees a few times in sync with Mathumbo’s beat.
“Big!” Mathambo reiterated.
Mathumbo’s emulating counterpart gave me a quick glance, giggled some more, and, with some effort, closed the wooden door.
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