BARGAIN LOSS

BLOGGER'S NOTE.

According to a UNAIDS 2013 document (AIDS by the numbers) "Globally, the number of new HIV infections continues to fall. There were 2.3 million new HIV infections [1.9 million–2.7 million] in 2012. This is the lowest number of annual new infections since the mid-to-late 1990s, when approximately 3.5 million [3.3 million–4.1 million] people were acquiring HIV every year. The number of HIV infections declined by more than 50% in 26 countries between 2001 and 2012 and between 25% and 49% in an additional 17 countries."

At the height of the HIV/AIDS pandemic sometime in 2003 (with national prevalence rates as high as 5.0) today's poem was written. Back then there was a lot of misinformation in the public space and it was not uncommon to find people ignorant about the disease. Such ignorance led to all kinds of idiotic prejudices.

The persona (a man) in the poem in a way reinforces such prevalent thinking then, that HIV was a function strictly of loose morals and that anyone living with the disease must have led a lifestyle of pure debauchery. The poem at a certain level perpetuates the myth of HIV being a just recompense for waywardness. But we do know that as babies born with the virus and other modes of infections prove, it is not simply an issue of Karma for hideous sins, unless one is to argue (quite dumbly, in this instance if you ask me) that Karma is generational and that the sins of the Parents must as of necessity be visited on the Off-springs. 

These flaws notwithstanding, the persona can through his lamentation of regrets be seen to encourage abstinence, a behaviour which was and still remain a viable tool in the fight against HIV.  

The video below highlights famous people (mainly Americans) who succumbed to AIDS. Our own Fela Kuti also did. In some of the cases, the poem could as well be an ode to them as well as countless others we may know or not know . Ciao!

BARGAIN LOSS

Here I lie...

Wasted of breath

enriched with filth

putrefied outcome

of dangerous liaisons.

Lusts bouts perpetual
gnawing at my loins
pushing me to brothels
houses, roads, places.

Who cares she's married
single, divorced, complicated?
Who cares for height,
weight, depth, breadth?
Who cares she's black,
white, red, green or purple?

Oh! That blind was I
seeing not the aggressive
sway of those plump lumps

Oh! That deaf was I
hearing not the frenetic moans

of those lush voices

Oh! That numb was I

feeling not the welcome warmth

of those gushing gapes

Oh! That dumb was I 
hearing not the quickened breath 
of those flared nostrils.

Twinkly eyed ascent sighs.

crescendo peak descent crash!
Have I eternity bargained

by mere sprinkling of seed? 

Beat this farewell sonorous drums.

Uche Okorie (c) 18^th Jan, 2003.