You and your neighbors and your political and popular leaders act as if nothing is happening. Across the southern quadrant of Africa, this nightmare is real. The rest of society looks away. Flesh and muscle melt from the bones of the sick in packed hospital wards and lonely bush kraals. Corpses stack up in morgues until those on top crush the identity from the faces underneath.
Raw earth mounds scar the landscape, grave after grave without name or number.
Bereft children grieve for parents lost in their prime, for siblings scattered to the winds. The victims don't cry out. Doctors and obituaries do not give the killer its name. Families recoil in shame. Leaders shirk responsibility.