Yasmin

Yasmin passed away on July 27th, at the age of fifteen. Frankly speaking, this news did not hit me very hard. All my memories of this girl started escaping me years ago, and if it had not been for this bad news, it would have been impossible for me to think of her again. (I couldn’t think of anything that could trigger this part of my memory.)

Five years ago, Yasmin was one of the kids living with HIV fostered by a ‘Home’ in Kunming run by a local NGO. Her family was from a remote town in Ruili, her father was a drug abuser and got divorced very early. He himself could not take care of Yasmin – or maybe he wasn’t willing to do so – so he sent her to the ‘Home’ because, at least, she could take medications on time every day. But during summer and winter vacations, her father always insisted the Home send her back for no obvious reason. After receiving the news, I checked all the old photos of the summer camps held in Dali but I could not find a single photo of her. (I asked a former colleague to see if she kept some, only to get a negative answer. It seemed we had lost all the evidence of her existence in the past.)

Yasmin was short, black-skinned, and there was always a trace of uneasiness on her face. As a small kid, she was quiet, and did not seem to enjoy any activity at all. Whenever there was a party or a small celebration, she was easily forgotten by others: she always chose to sit or stand in a corner, deep in her own thoughts (one could read her sadness radiating from within). And once she smiled, her face looked even paler. (Later I was told she was affected by Behçet’s disease, a not-so-rare complication of HIV infection.)

Before the summer of 2017 – something big happened in that summer in Dali – Yasmin’s father decided to take her back and claimed he would keep her around. Well, that’s not because he suddenly realized he should shoulder the responsibilities to look after his daughter, or he had been equipped with enough nursing skills. Instead, the biggest reason was that her father got married again, and the new couple had a new-born ‘healthy’ son (not infected by HIV). Presumably Yasmin was expected by the new couple to take care of her half-brother and help with housework. In addition, by keeping her at home, her father could keep the annual ‘hardship allowance’ to himself, and with that money he would be able to raise his son. (The ‘hardship allowance’ was given by the local government for families who had children living with HIV. And before that summer in 2017, since Yasmin lived in the Home, her father had to use this money as her living expenses in Kunming.)

When Yasmin’s biological mother knew Yasmin had not been given any medication for two years, she decided to step in and save her from exhausting household chores. It was all too late: Yasmin had developed various complications and her heart was beginning to fail. In the past year, they made frequent trips to Kunming to receive treatment, but unfortunately by that time Yasmin’s wasted body was already like a sandcastle on the beach which could be wiped out in any minute.

Four days ago, Yasmin left us and rose to another world. Hope in that world, she would be free of worries and pains.

RIP, Yasmin (November 3, 2005 – July 27, 2021).