Unit 41
　　A Boy Named Nkosi
　　In 1989 in a Zulu village, Daphne gave birth to a baby, named Xolani Nkosi. The baby was tiny, no more than two kilos. As the months passed, Daphne realized the boy was ill. The doctor who examined the boy had said his illness might be a result of HIV infection -- and if that turned out to be the case, Daphne herself was probably infected and it's her who gave the sickness to Nkosi. The identity of his father would remain Daphne's secret. Whoever he was, he was the most significant person Daphne would ever know, for he had put death into her body. Daphne was not yet 20, yet she was dying, and on the very first day of is life, so was her tiny son.
　　Meanwhile, another South African woman, Gail Johnson, was living a different life. She and her husband were not wealthy, but were comfortably middle class. A visit to a friend's brother, who was in the terminal stage of AIDS, made her determined to do something. By October, she had raised enough money to set up the Guest House, and took in a dozen dying of AIDS. Daphne sent her boy to the Guest House, where he became a star.
　　But in 1992 the Guest House had to be close for lack of money. Gail offered to adopt Nkosi. By his 4th birthday, Nkosi was eating better, gaining some weight. In 1997, Gail sent Nkosi to school. There was no law preventing HIV-positive kids from entering South African's schools. The question had simply never arisen before. Eight-year-old Nkosi had lived longer than any child ever born HIV-positive in South Africa. In 3 years at school Nkosi had only one accident. He fell in the playground and cut his mouth. The bleeding was handled with care. His school performance was satisfactory.
　　Nkosi's progress was tracked in the media. Gail took advantage of the coverage to raise money and found a house in Johannesburg for some women and their kids. She called it Nkosi's Haven. Nakosi and Gail became icons in the international AIDS community. They were invited to the United States and spent a week there making appearances. Then in July 2000, the 13th International Conference on AIDS was scheduled to be held in Durban.
　　Nkosi was introduced to a huge audience. "Hi," he said. "My name is Nkosi Johnson. I'm 11 years old. I was born HIV-positive. I hate having AIDS, because I get very sick and I get very sad when I think of all the other children and babies with AIDS,..." He continued, "Care for us and accept us. We are all human beings. We are normal. We have hands. We have feet. We can walk, we can talk -- and we have needs just like everyone else. Don't be afraid of us. We are all the same." His tiny body was ravaged by AIDS, but his big heart inspired a nation.
　　A week after the 2000 Christmas, Nkosi asked if he could take a bath. He lay in the hot water and smiled. A few minutes later his eyes rolled back in his head, and he went into a coma, unable to speak, unable to smile. Early on June 1, 2001, Nkosi died. Gail kissed him. "I love you," she said. "Go quietly, my darling boy."