When everyone assembled, Mariam looked at Zoe. “I talked to the DPP about Darious’s history with Bella and the incident with Bright. He was guarded, of course, but he’s going to review the case today.” She turned to Joseph. “Zoe tells me you have an update?”
He nodded. “I went to Alpha Bar on Saturday night. I spent time with a couple of girls.”
“I hope you wore protection,” Niza said wryly.
He laughed. “Condoms don’t fit over my ears.” He placed his hands on the table. “The girls go by the street names Candy and Love. They know Darious. He’s a fixture at Alpha. But they don’t go with him anymore. They think he has HIV.”
“Is he on medication?” Zoe inquired.
“They didn’t know, but I don’t think so. I watched him for a while. He has lesions on his skin, and he’s thinner than he should be. He went to the bathroom four times in an hour. He was drinking, but so was everyone else. I’d guess it was diarrhea. If I’m right, he’s pretty far along.”
“How would you know that?” asked Niza.
Joseph was silent for a long moment. “My little sister died of AIDS.”
Even Niza seemed shocked by his admission. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Zoe looked at Joseph with newfound understanding. It explained, in part, why he was so devoted to his work.
Mariam spoke up. “I’m very sorry to hear about your sister, Joseph. But I’m curious about your theory. If Darious has AIDS, why wouldn’t he be on ARVs? This isn’t the 1990s. The drugs are everywhere now, and they’re free.”
“The myths still have power,” Zoe responded.
“As does the stigma,” Sarge agreed.
Zoe nodded. “If a man as enlightened as Thabo Mbeki can question whether HIV causes AIDS, then anyone can question it,” she said, referring to the controversy fueled by Nelson Mandela’s successor in South Africa.
“But Mbeki lost that debate,” Mariam objected.
“You and I know he was wrong,” Sarge said. “But a lot of people still agree with him. The suspicion of Western motives runs deep.”
“Sarge is right,” Joseph said. “Darious may or may not question the science, but I’m certain he’s afraid of what his family will think. My sister was. She didn’t tell me until she was too sick to stand. Even then, she swore me to secrecy. My father thinks she died of pneumonia.”
At that moment, Zoe had an idea. “Wait a minute,” she said. “Kuyeya is a disabled child. The obvious assumption is that she’s a virgin. What about the old myth that sex with a virgin can cure HIV? Darious knew where she was living. Doris saw him a few weeks ago. What if he was lying in wait?”
“Of all the fanciful scenarios,” Niza rejoined. “Darious is too smart to believe in fairy tales. He might be apprehensive about disclosing his status. But to rape a disabled girl in an attempt to cure himself? It’s hard to believe.”
Zoe looked at Niza in frustration. “Bright is proof that Darious has no concern about raping a child. And desperate men are gullible. The other day on the street I got a flyer from an nganga advertising therapy for bad luck, witchcraft, relationship problems, penile enlargement, and AIDS. The flyer was printed in English. It was aimed at the literate. People like Darious.”
“Zoe has a point,” Sarge said.
“It’s frightening, but believable,” Joseph agreed.
“Am I the only level-headed person in the room?” Niza said. “Even if by some vast stretch of the imagination all of you are right, how in the world are we going to prove it?”
The silence descended so quickly it was as if a curtain had been dropped. Everyone stared at Niza until she held up her hands defensively. “It’s a fair question.”
“Granted,” Sarge said. “But we have a way to go before we need to worry about proof.”
“I’ll start asking around,” Joseph offered. “There are a lot of ngangas in Lusaka, but there can’t be many that Darious would trust. If he went to one, I should find out about it eventually.”
Mariam looked at the clock on the wall. “It’s nine thirty. Zoe and Niza, help Sarge prepare the paperwork for co-prosecution. Joseph, put your findings in a report. I’ll get Mwila to contact Dr. Chulu. He should know that Darious may have the virus. I’ll inform you as soon as I hear from the DPP. Let’s hope for a green light.”
The call from the Director of Public Prosecution came a few minutes before three in the afternoon. This time Mariam invited Zoe into her office on the condition she remain quiet.
“This case is very troubling,” said the DPP. “Has the child seen a psychiatrist?”
“Not yet,” Mariam said, “but we’re working to schedule an examination.”
“And her family? No one knows when she was born?”
“We have her physical appearance, and we have Doris who she lived with—”
“Yes, yes,” he interjected. “But the woman’s testimony is pure conjecture. I’m not trying to be difficult, but I’m a lawyer. The weakness is obvious enough.”