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Zambia |
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CAROL Singwoma is weaving her way through the crowd, the eyes of the men on her dirty white knitted turtle-neck top and the little skirt covering her thin legs. Her skin is a deep black, her eyes big and open, her features attractive, if not quite pretty. She is giggling, her arms folded across her small breasts, aware of the attention of the men swigging from bottles of beer and swaying to the sound of the African dance music as they spill out of the open-air bar into a darkened side street on the edge of the Zambian crossroads town of Kapiri Mposhi.
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Chichi still does not know if she has AIDS. She still cannot find a way to get her little boy back from her family. She still wants to live a normal life, go back to school, find a job, maybe educate other working girls about the dangers, about the ways to change their lives. Maybe it will happen. Maybe the disease will get her first. Maybe it already has |
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FAMILIES WHO FALL PREY TO THE 'EAGLE' IN ZAMBIA, they call AIDS the "eagle", because when it catches you, it carries you away. In the villages of Kapululwe, a little way outside the capital, Lusaka, the eagle has been busy. |
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