In the streets of Chaman, in Pakistan’s southern state of Baluchistan, women are not easy to find. When they are seen, it is accompanied by a male relative but protected from view by a full veil.
I never thought that my life will be so dynamic.
18 July 2012 Today is the first day of Ramadhan. The twilight sky starts to appear and there is nothing I want more than to go home and prepare food for the break of my fasting.  This year I spend the Ramadhan on my own, far away from home.
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I have been living in this village for almost 7 months now, but I am not even close to mastering the local Chichewa language.
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A woman of around twenty years old wearing a black dress and shabby flowerish chitenje is in the consultation room. A baby is sleeping on her lap. She hands me a small orange book with a torn cover.
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13th of June 2012, Wednesday. In Thekerani Health Center.
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My alarm clock rings and wakes me up. I rub my eyes to keep away the bad dream I had.  I look at the watch, it’s 06:30 AM and I realise that I have overslept. It’s Tuesday, the very day that I don’t want to be late.  Tuesday is the day for antiretroviral (ARV) initiation.
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A typical Monday for me begins with a 4WD ride, heading over unpaved roads from the small town of Thyolo to Thekerani village where I spend most days of every week working. Nowadays, it has been very cold . Last May, the rainy season has ended and the thick fog marked the beginning of winter.
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The village of Thekerani is a far-flung village in Malawi, one of the least developed countries in the Southern Africa region. This is going to be my home for nine months. But getting here wasn’t really that easy.
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