She was the first person to publicly disclose her HIV status. And she was treated like a leper.

That was shortly after she had tested positive, back in 1996. But as more people understood the importance of HIV testing and status disclosure, 47- year-old Donanta Komuhangi earned respect as far as Kabaka village and Karusandara Sub County (Kasese district.)

Her testimony brought more people out of the closet. And she took time to consolidate the first 15 into Karusandara HIV/Aids group. What started out as a social and emotional support group, where members consoled one other with drama and testimonies of positive living, had by late 2004 culminated into a savings organisation, with members depositing Shs 700 and others Shs 500 per week.

But while the elders leaned on each other, with Komuhangi's home as their meeting point, their HIV positive children remained in the cold. It was not long before the stigmitsation these children were facing came to Komuhangi's attention. A foundation for bringing these children together was laid.

"We were already learning how to cope. But the children didn't have any support. I decided to bring them together too. Both the infected and those who are negative yet affected in one way or another. I did this so those living positively can feel like they still belong to the normal community," she says.

As such, the idea took shape as Karusandara Child to Child HIV Care and Prevention Drama group. Upon its conception, it didn't turn out to be just another group of children singing and acting together. Komuhangi took them in as family every time they gathered at her home for rehearsals. She counselled and consoled the traumatised.

This only served to portray the middle-aged woman as mother to every HIV positive child that walked into her compound. And her home gradually turned into a haven for the "homeless."

It became a refuge for the young stigmatised souls. Before she knew it, she had on her hands child after child, seeking guidance on how to cope with the stigma and live positively.

"I take some in for the night and share my testimony. I escort them back to their homes the following morning. I counsel their parents or guardians on how to look after them," she says, adding that she has been able to return a smile to many a little one's face, with simple words.

Though her husband (who is also HIV positive) didn't welcome the idea at first, he was later convinced to be part of the noble cause. As the children get ready to present their songs, he hangs a tarpaulin over the clean-swept compound, to shield them from the sun.

Presently, Komuhangi's routine is punctuated with breaking down the resistance of stubborn parents/guardians who won't test and confirm their status, yet have children who constantly show signs of HIV under their care. A few weeks ago, she shared in Jamila Nalubowa's predicament. Nalubowa 13, lost her mother to Aids, and the little girl was left under her father and stepmother's care.

"No one seemed to realise that the child was had Herpes. She spent about a week bed-ridden. The stepmother pretended nothing was wrong. The father has never shown any responsibility for the child," she says.

Even after the neighbours approached her, and she confronted Nalubowa's father, the child was still not given attention. But fortunately for the girl, she happens to be best friends with her Komuhangi's last born, Stella Umuhoza -who is also living with HIV.

Having been taken to hospital by her friend's mother, Nalubowa run from her father's home, finding a sanctuary here. Countless trials to return her home have proved fruitless.

Her caretaker says that Nalubowa's paranoia is founded in the fact that she was sick and abandoned for a while, a thing her school and classmates tease her about.

"But I asked her teachers to try to protect her," says the foster mother.

This, she has done so strategically. Komuhangi runs a small restaurant in her compound, which is in the vicinity of her daughters' school. When the teachers come to buy food here, she sits them down and lays down the young girls' plight, beseeching them to watch over them at school.

As the group of about 35 share a late lunch in the mid-afternoon, calls of 'mother' are heard here and there, from those who want a drink to wash their food down, or water to wash their hands.

Some tug at her skirt or kneel before her to ask for something. The light-complexioned, graceful woman with a seemingly permanent calmness about her does her best to lend an ear to each one of them.

Their just concluded presentation was an array of rigorous folk compositions about voluntary testing, educational support and messages of hope. The cool ambience created by the homestead, constructed with local building materials (papyrus, reeds and grass), coupled with the children's happy screams completes the picture of an African village.

With psycho-social support as well as food aid from Save the Children in Uganda, Komuhangi, who is also the focal person in charge of persons living with HIV for Kilembe Mines Hospital in this area, watches over a group of 96 girls and 142 boys. The NGO also helps by reporting the runaway children to the Family and Child Protection Unit, which guarantees her authority for taking care of them.

At home, Komuhangi tends to her kitchen-garden, when she is not coordinating both groups. She grows a variety of vegetables, a food so important in sustaining hers and the lives of those she watches over.

Much later, as she inspects her garden, she looks up with a heavy sigh, "I wish people could stop punishing the children for sins they didn't commit. These young children did nothing to deserve HIV. They got it from the very people that stigmatise them. If only they could realise these children's innocence," she pleads.