Their town, with a population of about 100,000, is small by Chinese standards, and word of the couple’s illness spread rapidly. “People know just enough [about AIDS] to be scared to death,” says Audrey Swift, a Western health worker based in Yunnan. Xu’s doctor promised not to reveal her condition–and then quickly informed the factory where she worked as a cook. Xu was fired. Her husband, already emaciated and growing weaker, had been forced to leave his Army unit as soon as he was diagnosed.
Fearful of what they might learn, the Fengs decided not to get an HIV test for their son, Bingqing, then 13. But they worried that, even if he didn’t have the disease, his family’s stigma would blight his future, leaving him with no prospect of a decent job or a wife. Like many HIV victims and their families, the Fengs considered suicide for themselves and their son. “We didn’t want people to discriminate against him when we were gone,” Xu says now. “We wanted to die all together.”
With little hope for effective medical care, the couple left their boy with Xu’s sister and moved to a remote village 60 miles away. There they awaited the husband’s death in a small hut. “He was so frightened, he had lost the will to live,” Xu recalls. The nearby villagers were frightened, too, by the dying patient in their midst. When he finally expired, townspeople forced their way into the hut. They wrapped the still-warm corpse in crude cloth, bound it with rope and suspended it between poles, like a slaughtered hog. Disdaining any funeral rites, they took the body to a nearby mountain, built a bonfire and dumped it into the flames.
Xu returned to her hometown. Terrified and alone, she finally faced her deepest fear. She had her son, Bingqing, tested for HIV, telling him it was a test for hepatitis. The result was negative. Xu still has not told her son of her own affliction, and he thinks his father died of liver cancer. She hopes to live at least two more years, until her son finishes high school. She has taken the only job the community would offer her, janitorial work. And she has started taking experimental medicine given to her by a state doctor.
So far Xu has no symptoms of AIDS. Recently, when her former employer offered her a token handout, she refused it. “I won’t take their money,” she says disdainfully. Bingqing is now 16. He is tall and has long hair that flops over his face. “He has won a lot of running races in school,” Xu says proudly. She knows he is lucky to be alive–and shielded from some of the pain and hardships that AIDS still inflicts on its victims and their families.
title: " We Wanted To Die Together " ShowToc: true date: “2023-01-02” author: “Kim Hernandez”
Her husband, a soldier named Feng Bingzhong (all family names are pseudonyms), apparently contracted the disease visiting prostitutes. In 1997, when he was 45, Feng developed rashes and went to see a dermatologist in the town. When the doctor sent him for a blood test, and it came back positive for HIV, he was mournful. “He said, ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, take care of this child and raise him well’,’’ says Xu. Weeks later Xu was tested and told that she, too, had the virus.
Neither of them was prepared for the misery that followed. Their town, with a population of roughly 100,000, is small by Chinese standards–and word of the family’s health problems spread rapidly. Most rural Chinese know little about AIDS, except that it kills. “People know just enough to be scared to death, but not enough to know what’s really going on,” says Audrey Swift, a Western health worker based in Yunnan. Xu’s doctor pledged not to reveal her secret–but quickly contacted the factory where she worked as a cook. She was fired. Her husband, emaciated and growing weaker, had left his Army unit the moment he was diagnosed. Friends began to shun them. They received veiled threats from former co-workers. Their son’s future in the town appeared doomed. The parents knew that after their deaths, the boy would face discrimination for the rest of his life, with no prospect of a job or a wife.
In desperation, the couple contemplated suicide. Xu’s sister talked them out of it. Instead, they tried to minimize the scandal that would result if the husband died in the town. The couple left their son with Xu’s sister and moved to a remote village 60 miles away. There, they waited for the husband’s death in a small wooden hut. “I helped him go to the bathroom, move him and feed him,” Xu says. “He was so frightened, he had lost the will to live.”
The villagers were frightened, too, by the dying patient in their midst. When he died, townspeople forced their way into the hut. They wrapped the still-warm corpse in crude cloth, tied it up with rope and suspended it from sticks like a hog. Disdaining any funeral rites, they carried the body to a nearby mountain, built a bonfire, and dumped it in. Xu fled to her hometown. She was terrified and alone, but finally faced her deepest fear. She had Feng tested for HIV, lying to him that it was for hepatitis. The test was negative.
Xu still has not told her son of her affliction. She hopes to live at least two years, until he finishes high school. She’s taken the only job the community would offer her, janitorial work. And she has started taking experimental medicine provided by a state doctor. So far she has no symptoms. When her former employer recently offered her a token handout, she turned him down. “I won’t take their money,” she says. “In a crisis, can you depend on other people?” There is no response.
