After the story of Weldegerima Fekadu and his family aired on Me'munay, Ethiopians across the globe were touched and responded with generous donations. Tamerat Yemane and the other producers at Betengna were, in turn, touched by the generosity of their listeners. Through it all, there is visible distance that Ethiopians have come in developing their understanding of and support to individuals infected and affected by HIV, but one that is still hard to accurately talk about for those of us working in the field of HIV and AIDS. Quite frankly, people can be as cruel as they can be generous when it comes to HIV. What was so peculiar about Woldegerima’s story?
Are you new to Betengna or have you been following us from the start? Click here and listen to what we've been doing since day one. This special audio episode let's you in on more stories, but this time from the producers.
Email of the week
Every week, Betengna selects their favorite email from a listener and shares it with you. Send us your email now!
I have recently started to listen to your program, the first being Seniet Abraham's heart breaking story. May God keep you under his protection! I will remember you in my prayers. You have been through a lot. As for your boyfriend, i think he is pure evil. God bless!
At first glance, he seemed like any other man in his late 20s, tall and slightly dark. He showed up at our office about two months ago. He had been listening to Senait Abraham’s story and said he was a fan. He also said he wanted to be a diarist on Betengna. We talked about his childhood and where he grew up. “Piassa” he said. I was born and raised in Piassa too so I was intrigued. Our conversation continued into other days.
He keeps a diary in which he records every event in his life as well as his emotions, joys, and sorrows about them. One day, he brought the diary with him to show me. It included photographs of what seemed like special memories beyond what the image showed. “This is the house I was raised in” he said pointing to a photograph of a large compound. I was pleasantly surprised. You see, it was the house situated right next to my elementary school. I remember it was owned by a rich ferenj. I remember an apricot tree which always peeked between the fence and the roof of the house. I have also a memory of strawberries growing somewhere near the fence. The brave boys of our school would throw stones at the fruits and run in a frenzy to collect their prize.
There were days when walking to and from school the great big gates of the house would remain open and several vehicles would drive in and out all day long. From a certain angle, we could see the spacious premise and all the mysteries it held for us. A few times, we even saw the elder ferenj sitting on his car that glowed in the sunlight. This was the house of wonders where Estifanos Teshome was raised with the ferenj as a father.
I started searching my mind for a smartly dressed younger version of Estifanos. Several other children from wealthy families came to my mind but not him. Could he have changed all that much?
To hear the diaries of Estifanos Teshome click here
Do you love thyself?
Written by Helina Terfe
It was a Tuesday evening when my friends and I met for drinks after work. Addis was bustling as usual with people trying to make it home but my friends and I paid no mind to all the commotion as we competed to get our stories across. We all had different scenarios to talk about because we work in different professions. It didn't take long for me to take over the floor with the issue of getting tested for HIV. One of my friends shared his opinion as follows "Why the hell would I want to know my status? Can you imagine how my life will change if I found out I was positive? I would rather not know and live a happy life." Another friend added "I decided to get tested a month ago but when I got to the doctor's office, I got scared to ask for an HIV test. So I asked the doctor to check my blood type instead." Laughter burst from all around the table with heads nodding as if to say "Yeah, I feel you on that". At this point, there was a specific dilemma I wondered if we all shared. We've all heard about the benefits of testing. But how many of us in Ethiopia are in the same predicament where we honestly don't know how to feel about knowing our status? For all the talks about the benefits of knowing your status, don't some of us, like my friend who spoke first, really think it's better not to know?
This week, Amel takes a look at how information about HIV does not guarantee awareness
There are certain things you get used to when working in the field of health, particularly in HIV. Numbers, words, patterns, and systems that you become acquainted with as part of the everyday language of treatment and prevention. Working with Betengna brings you in touch with even more stories that make it possible to imagine the “unimaginable”. If you who have been listening to the diaries of Woldegerima, Uma, Aster, Gonderitand Senait, I’m sure you understand what I mean. While their stories are always full of amazing events and surprises, those very elements become a pattern that you automatically expect from any Betengna diarist. But lately, a certain situation, and in particular a question, keeps crossing my path, one that I find astonishing and never know how to answer.
It usually happens when I meet new (and I’m assuming well educated) people in other fields and explain my job to them. “I coordinate the Betengna radio diaries. It’s a radio program where people living with HIV talk about their lives…” You can see their expression change from smiley and pleasant to uncertainty and some level of worry. Realizing my reaction to their expression, they quickly and visibly recover from their shock and search their brain for the nearest intelligent thing to say, something that can make them seem informed and caring. So nearly 9 out of 10 of them will then ask me, “how is that thing? Is it decreasing now?” Needless to tell you, they are asking about HIV.
After the story of 
It was a Tuesday evening when my friends and I met for drinks after work. Addis was bustling as usual with people trying to make it home but my friends and I paid no mind to all the commotion as we competed to get our stories across. We all had different scenarios to talk about because we work in different professions. It didn't take long for me to take over the floor with the issue of getting tested for HIV. One of my friends shared his opinion as follows "Why the hell would I want to know my status? Can you imagine how my life will change if I found out I was positive? I would rather not know and live a happy life." Another friend added "I decided to get tested a month ago but when I got to the doctor's office, I got scared to ask for an HIV test. So I asked the doctor to check my blood type instead." Laughter burst from all around the table with heads nodding as if to say "Yeah, I feel you on that". At this point, there was a specific dilemma I wondered if we all shared. We've all heard about the benefits of testing. But how many of us in Ethiopia are in the same predicament where we honestly don't know how to feel about knowing our status? For all the talks about the benefits of knowing your status, don't some of us, like my friend who spoke first, really think it's better not to know?