© 2025 Central Florida Public Media. All Rights Reserved.
90.7 FM Orlando • 89.5 FM Ocala
Play Live Radio
Next Up:
0:00
0:00
0:00 0:00
Available On Air Stations

The story of an HIV-positive orphan and a pastor's quest to help after U.S. aid cuts

MARY LOUISE KELLY, HOST:

Years ago, under the George W. Bush administration, the U.S. decided to put a lot of money into helping orphans, AIDS orphans. The disease had left some 12 million children without a parent, mostly in Africa. But early this year, the Trump administration halted most foreign assistance, including much of the AIDS orphans program. In an email, the State Department commented that the program is under review. NPR's Gabrielle Emanuel has the story of what these abrupt changes could mean for one child and a pastor's quest to help her.

GABRIELLE EMANUEL, BYLINE: Night had fallen hours before, but pastor Billiance Chondwe was not slowing down. On February 20, he frantically recorded voice messages on WhatsApp and dialed distant acquaintances from his home in Zambia.

BILLIANCE CHONDWE: I called the whole night, calling everyone and anytime.

EMANUEL: He urgently needed to find HIV medication for a 9-year-old AIDS orphan. Her name is Diana. He sent a voice message to an old friend.

(SOUNDBITE OF ARCHIVED RECORDING)

CHONDWE: Calvary greetings. Calvary greetings, Dr. Susan. How are you?

EMANUEL: Susan Hillis listened to the message in the airport check-in line in Thailand. She was heading back to the U.S. from a conference of Christian mission hospitals. As she listened, she learned that the U.S. cuts to foreign aid meant Diana's HIV clinic in rural Zambia had closed without warning. Diana was born with HIV, and she takes medicine to keep the virus at bay. Hillis could hear the worry in Pastor Billy's voice.

SUSAN HILLIS: I had tears in my eyes and was choked up.

EMANUEL: Hillis spent years working on Bush's HIV/AIDS initiative, and she'd seen the dramatic relief it had brought to sub-Saharan Africa, increasing life expectancy, decreasing infection rates. But with the shutdown in foreign aid, Hillis thought, Diana was in trouble.

HILLIS: She has no chance unless someone can get her medicine in the middle of rural Zambia. Who's going to do that? I was thinking, she's going to die. She is going to die.

EMANUEL: She dug into her Rolodex and pulled out a few names for Pastor Billy. They traded voice messages.

(SOUNDBITE OF ARCHIVED RECORDING)

CHONDWE: We pray hope is given to Diana. We trusting that God will make a way.

EMANUEL: Pastor Billy continued working the phones into the wee hours of the morning.

CHONDWE: Then by chance, I would say miracle...

EMANUEL: He found someone who said, yes, they would share their remaining pills with the girl.

CHONDWE: They'll give Diana for five days. They'll share.

EMANUEL: Even with this little reprieve, Pastor Billy worries these pills could be the wrong dosage for Diana.

CHONDWE: God save Diana - that she doesn't develop symptoms because the dosage was too much or was less.

EMANUEL: For decades, Pastor Billy and his wife have been helping orphans. They've welcomed more than 15 into their home, raising them alongside their five kids. For a brief period, Diana was one of them.

CHONDWE: Diana is something that gives me sleepless nights.

EMANUEL: And that's because he's seen her through so many hard times. There was the house fire, Diana's HIV diagnosis, her mother's death from AIDS, her grandmother's death from COVID. But it was clear to Billy, Diana's future was in trouble.

CHONDWE: Diana, if left, she was supposed to be a street kid, just staying on the street.

EMANUEL: But Pastor Billy and his wife were determined not to let that happen to her. Even when the church moved them to a town far from Diana, they stayed involved in her life, over the years often driving the four hours to visit her. Since the aid withdrawal, those trips have intensified. Pastor Billy knows that Diana is now more vulnerable than ever. Plus, every week or so, he has to scramble to find HIV meds for her.

On a recent Wednesday, he's barreling down the highway once again on the way to Diana's. His windshield wipers slap away rain. Pastor Billy's phone erupts now and again with calls from parishioners.

(SOUNDBITE OF PHONE RINGING)

EMANUEL: Like Diana, they, too, have watched their U.S.-funded HIV clinics close without warning. And without their meds, they tell Pastor Billy they're getting sick.

CHONDWE: It's very difficult. Yeah.

EMANUEL: These calls take Pastor Billy back to the days before the U.S. made AIDS medications available across Africa. It was a time when so many were dying from AIDS that Pastor Billy's own congregation dwindled. And more than that, Pastor Billy lost someone very close to him.

CHONDWE: Her name was Charity.

EMANUEL: Charity was Billy's twin sister. Growing up, they were inseparable. They shared secrets. They insisted on eating meals together.

CHONDWE: Yeah, we eat from the same plate. We were so close. Yeah, it was just lovely.

EMANUEL: When they were 17, Charity got sick with AIDS, and it was Billy who nursed her for almost two years.

CHONDWE: What I felt was I'm alone. It brought me to my knees. No matter what I can do as a human being, there is a limit. I think it's the point I turned to God.

EMANUEL: And turning to God eventually led Billy to become a pastor. He says out of his faith grew his devotion to helping others also scarred by AIDS and, where he could, saving them from his own sister's fate. A few blocks from Diana's house, we pass her clinic.

CHONDWE: Yeah. So now it's closed. There's no one working.

EMANUEL: Even though the U.S. has said HIV treatment can continue, many people still can't find their meds. Pastor Billy pulls up to the home. Sitting on an upside-down bucket in the dusty front yard is Diana. Her face lights up. A skinny 9-year-old with a frilly skirt and short, cropped hair - he gives her a big hug. She calls him Father. Pastor Billy's main mission this trip is to figure out Diana's meds. But when he arrives, he sees that far more is in turmoil. Outside the front door, Jennifer Mukuka is cooking a pot of greens over a coal fire. She's Diana's foster mom.

JENNIFER MUKUKA: Sometimes, we just have one meal per day. Diana is going to school without food. Yeah, we are not OK.

EMANUEL: They used to get food assistance through the U.S. program for AIDS orphans - some beans, a bit of fish. Now that's all stopped. Diana says she's noticed the difference.

DIANA LUNGU: (Non-English language spoken).

EMANUEL: Because there isn't enough food, Diana says, she often feels very sick after taking her HIV meds - when she has them. Since the freeze on foreign aid, her foster mom has spent many days going to Zambian government clinics, trying to get Diana meds. But they get just an emergency pack, pills for a few days or a couple weeks. Mukuka says sometimes Diana goes without them altogether. Standing quietly, Pastor Billy watches as Diana gets ready for school. He seems worried. He says he's realizing that without U.S. help for AIDS orphans, without the extra food, the guarantee of AIDS medication, Mukuka can't really support Diana, not on her own. In her brown school uniform, Diana's packing her book bag.

DIANA: And this is my bag and the ruler and pen.

EMANUEL: She's ready for her 20-minute walk to school. It's on that walk, she says, that she often dreams about becoming a doctor. She pictures herself in a white coat with a stethoscope around her neck. Then Pastor Billy and Diana hug goodbye, and she starts down the dusty path. One very special girl, and yet, Pastor Billy says, there are millions of AIDS orphans just like her. He gets in his car for the drive back home, wondering what to do next. Gabrielle Emanuel, NPR News.

(SOUNDBITE OF MUSIC) Transcript provided by NPR, Copyright NPR.

NPR transcripts are created on a rush deadline by an NPR contractor. This text may not be in its final form and may be updated or revised in the future. Accuracy and availability may vary. The authoritative record of NPR’s programming is the audio record.

Gabrielle Emanuel
[Copyright 2024 NPR]