The uncertain future
of the global AIDS response

Lydia Nabirye

Location: Bulopa |
Date: 04/11/2025
“I told her there’s still time for everything. It’s a long life. I told her she would not be neglected.”

Lydia Nabirye is dead because of the cuts President Donald Trump has made to U.S. aid.

The second of four children born to parents in eastern Uganda, Nabirye was forced to drop out of high school when her father died more than a decade ago. She refused to surrender her dream of becoming a nurse, though, and tracked down a job in a nearby town teaching primary classes in order to save the money she needed to resume her education.

She met a man there and they imagined a future together. When she became pregnant six years ago, she learned that he had likely given her HIV. Their son was also born with the disease and then contracted yellow fever two days after his birth, which almost killed him. Nabirye’s partner abandoned them both. His family refused to even acknowledge their son.

Nabirye was undeterred. She returned to her mother, Saida Nabirye, and together they ran a roadside restaurant.

She was so happy. She used to bring so, so many customers.

Saida said they were drawn in by her daughter’s laughter.

Nabirye kept scrabbling for the money she needed to finish her education. After three years passed, though, it was clear that her son was never going to learn to speak or to walk.

Realizing how that might limit both of their futures sent Nabirye into a depression. She began to refuse her HIV treatment.

The HIV clinic Nabirye attended, a 20-minute drive away over rough roads, noticed her absence. They contacted a local organization, who started sending a care worker, Fatuma Bilibawa, to Nabirye’s house. Bilibawa arrived on a motorcycle taxi each morning to observe Nabirye take her medication and to talk about the opportunities that day might hold for her.

I told her there’s still time for everything. It’s a long life. I told her she would not be neglected. To continue with the drugs so she would be stable.

The service was a crucial lifeline in a country with virtually no mental health support. After a few months, Nabirye, by then 28 years old, was beginning to pepper Bilibawa with questions about whether there was still a chance that she could go into nursing. She was building a future for herself again.

She told me she wanted to treat people in the community.

On January 24, the Trump administration suspended Bilibawa’s program, which was entirely supported by the U.S. President’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief. A few weeks later, U.S. officials eliminated it entirely. Bilibawa was forced to abandon the people she had been supporting, including Nabirye.

I didn’t have enough support. They just called me that she’s sick. She didn’t want to meet any other worker. She was tired of everything.

Nabirye stopped taking the medicine. Her decline was rapid. She died March 26.

Saida Nabirye has now taken over her grandson’s care. He requires all of her attention, which meant she has had to close the restaurant she used to run with her daughter.

I am all alone because the services have stopped. There are no services to help me.

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