We are all the same

Nkosi Johnson was born with the HIV virus (turning quickly into AIDS) in 1989 in rural South Africa. The disease was transmitted through his mother, who died when Nkosi was two. The boy was taken to a Johannesburg shelter for children and mothers with AIDS, founded by a white South African woman named Gail Johnson. Jim Wooten tells Nkosi's story in his book, We Are All The Same (from which these excerpts are taken). During his short life, Nkosi became a symbol and powerful advocate for mothers and children infected with HIV. He visited the United States twice for medical treatment, and, as Jim Wooten recounts, he touched people both with his smile and his remarkable insight, not just as a child, but as a human being. He was invited to speak at the AIDS Conference in Durban, South Africa, in July 2000. His fragile health deteriorating (he died a year later, weighing 20 pounds), he was determined to write his own speech and every word was his own. Here are the concluding words of that speech:

We are all the same.

We are not different from one another.

We all belong to one family.

We love and we laugh, we hurt and we cry, we live and we die.

Care for us and accept us. We are all human beings. We are normal. We have hands. We have feet. We can walk, we can talk -- and we have needs like just like everyone else. Don't be afraid of us.

We are all the same.

***

Additional excerpts from We Are All The Same:

The highlight of his trip to the West Coast ... was an unforgettable lunch with the comic and actor Robin Williams.

"He is the funniest man, I think, in all the world," Nkosi recalled. "He made me laugh a lot. He made me laugh so much I spit out my water once. Maybe twice. I was laughing very much at Robin. I think he liked me. I think Robin is my friend."

We love and we laugh, we hurt and we cry, we live and we die.

Since Christmas was only a few days away, I inquired about his personal gift list.

"A Dodge Viper," he said. Once more the grin.

"I want a Porsche," I said. "Good luck to both of us."

He knew that I knew he was pulling my leg.

"I actually dream this Christmas of getting all the money we need for our big dream house," he said.

He was referring to the farm outside that Johannesburg that Gail had been eyeing for some time, a much larger version of Nkosi's Haven, with enough space for a hundred mothers and children -- and, until then, beyond her financial reach.

"We are full here," he continued." "This is a small house, and we hardly have room for anybody else -- and that is not fair to all the other all the other mothers and children who are HIV. They are dying, and they have no place to go. They have no place to bring their children and live."

A wonderful wish, I said. "But what do you want for yourself."
"I haven't thought about it," he said. "Right now I'm just thinking about all the other mothers out there."

We all belong to one family.

Gail was receiving hundreds of letters every day. One local woman wrote that Nkosi was in fact an angel dispatched from paradise to earth to teach human beings the lessons of love and courage. Gail, who had not lost her sense of humor despite the stress and pressure of those long and painful weeks, laughed when she read that particular note. "Clearly this woman has never met Nkosi," she said. "Anyone who has ever dealt with my darling boy would know for sure that he is definitely not an angel and never was."

Care for us and accept us. We are all human beings. We are normal.

***

Jim Wooten relates that at the end of one of his interviews, Nkosi reminded him: "Wait just a moment, Jim. You haven't asked me about death." Johnson then went on to say that while he didn't want to die, he was not afraid of dying. And then he gave Wooten his final message:

Do all you can with
what you have
in the time you have
in the place you are.

Links

The Nkosi Johnson AIDS Foundation

List of International AIDS Charities

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