Peter Speetjens
Special for The Daily Star
"I live a normal life," 37-year-old Ramzi said smiling. "I get up early,
I work a lot, I drink a few beers and sometimes I stay up until five in
the morning."
For someone with Aids, this is perhaps surprising. Over the last four years,
Ramzi not his real name has twice been near death, but thanks
to his strong beliefs and new medicine, he is now livelier than ever.
His first symptoms appeared four years ago, shortly after returning from
ten years in the United States. "I became erratic, nervous and dizzy,"
he explained. "My glands swelled up. I ignored them but soon they were
like ping-pong balls."
In 1987 his former partner told Ramzi, a respected artist, that he was
infected with the HIV virus and, even though he didnšt take a test for
several years, Ramzi was sure he too was infected.
"I went to the hospital," he said, "but there was little doctors could
do. I was discharged after a month with no medicine but a handful of pills.
I had only 21 T-cells left."
T-cells are a vital part of the immune system, he explained. A healthy
person has more than 500 but, when the number drops below 100, the body
can no longer fend off diseases.
His mother and brothers have known he was gay since 1978 and, when he was
admitted to hospital, Ramzi felt it was time to tell his father. "Hešs
a traditional man," he said, "and he was shocked. But he accepts it and
supports me now."
The reaction from his friends was very different, he added. Many backed
off when they found out he was HIV positive. "Both homosexuality and AIDS
are taboo in Lebanon," he said. "You can only tell those you are closest
too. And you wouldnšt want the neighbours to know."
Contrary to popular belief, as a homosexual, Ramzi is not typical of AIDS
patients in Lebanon. The Red Cross said in April that about 70 per cent
of Lebanese with AIDS were wives and children of men returning from Africa.
This was backed by specialists at an AIDS conference in Verdun two weeks
ago. They estimate there are some 7,000 people in Lebanon who are HIV positive
and another 2,000 who have full-blown AIDS.
Discharged after a month by doctors at the hospital, who felt there was
nothing more they could do, Ramzi went to visit the tomb of an 18th-century
priest called Saliba.
Saliba had said on his death bed that he would return in 200 years "to
listen to the peoplešs troubles" and when his tomb was found near Baskinta
earlier this century, his body was supposedly perfectly preserved.
"I knelt down, prayed and began to cry," he said. "A feeling of ecstasy
came over me. I wanted to eat manoushe."
His T-cells shot up from 21 to 230, amazing his doctors.
Ramzi is convinced his spirituality helped his remission. On his shelves
are books about Buddhism, Hinduism and alternative healing practices.
"If you can balance mind, body and soul," he said, "there is great potential
for healing through meditation and prayer."
His advice to anyone infected is to first get rid of any feelings of guilt
or sin: "I never saw my disease as punishment," he said. "That only leads
to self-denial and you need all the energy you can summon to deal with
the disease."
But a year later he was in hospital again, this time for nine months.
"You canšt believe how I suffered," he sighed. "I really cannot describe
it."
Among the many diseases that beset him was affecting the membrane on his
brain. "That was painful," he said, "but the treatment was unbearable.
The liquid medicine injected into me was so thick that I could see it crawling
up my veins."
The longer he stayed in hospital, the more Ramzi lost his appetite and
after eight months he weighed 35kg, half his weight now. "I looked like
Išd just left Auschwitz," he said. Again the doctors gave up hope. Friends
and family came to be with him in his last hours.
"But I was sure I was not going to die," Ramzi said, "and that night I
had a beautiful dream, in which I was flown away to another world. The
next morning I was hungry for the first time in months."
The tide had turned again and he left hospital. Then, in 1996, a new treatment
by Dr Ho, a Nobel prizewinner, came out.
At a cost of $2,500 a month, many sufferers cannot use this treatment and
it is not available in Lebanon.
"I was lucky, because I had insured myself in the US," Ramzi said, "but
it still costs me $400 a month. The courier charges $125 and Lebanese customs
charge me $275 in import taxes."
Hošs discovery added a third medicine to two existing ones. AZT fights
the Aids virus directly but "the virus is immune so, in the end, AZT only
weakens the disease it cannot kill it," Ramzi explained. The second,
Epivir, strengthens the white blood cells which fight the diseases.
"The treatment is so successful," Ramzi said enthusiastically, "that some
people test negative shortly after they first take the pills."
Since the beginning of 1996 Ramzi has been living without complications.
"Now I get a cold, like everyone else," he smiles. "At one time it would
have become pneumonia."
His positive attitude is partly a result of his personal convictions and
partly thanks to to Hošs medication. "I now know what it is to enjoy,"
he says.