My name is Liban and I come from Hilmo village in the Galbuduud region of Somalia. I never imagined I’d find myself far from home, in a hospital, fighting tuberculosis. But here I am, and I want to share my story: how this illness crept into my life, how it changed everything, and how I’m finding my way back to hope.
It started with a sharp pain in my chest, like something pressing down on me, refusing to let go. Then came the coughing – relentless, tearing at my lungs day after day. I knew something was wrong, so I made my way to the hospital. The medical team wasted no time. They took my blood, did an X-ray, and even a CT scan to figure out what was happening inside me. When they sat me down and said, “Liban, you have tuberculosis,” the words hit me hard. I was devastated. Hopelessness washed over me, and I couldn’t see a way forward. All I could think was, how did this happen to me?
This wasn’t my first encounter with tuberculosis. A while back, I’d taken medication for six months, swallowing pills every day, believing I’d beaten it. But it came back, stubborn and unyielding. That news shook me – knowing I’d have to start over – but I didn’t give up. Now, I’ve been on a new treatment for 40 days, and I can feel it working. The pain isn’t as fierce, the coughing has eased, and I’m starting to feel like myself again.
When I told my family and friends, their faces fell. They were upset, worried about me and I hated seeing them like that. It was most difficult because I couldn’t work anymore. In Hilmo, I had a life, a way to earn an income but tuberculosis drained every bit of my energy. Coming here for treatment meant leaving that behind and being without work, I have no money to support myself or them. At first, it felt like a dark cloud over us all. But as the medication started to help and they saw me improving, their worry turned to hope. That shift – it’s kept me going.
Treatment isn’t easy. Every day, I take eight pills: three in the morning and five later, after I eat. Those morning doses hit me hard.
I feel weak, hungry, like my body’s struggling to catch up. My chest and lungs ache, and there’s this nagging pain in my joints that I can’t shake. I don’t vomit, thankfully, but the first hours of the day are rough. As time passes, though, I feel better – stronger, more like the Liban I used to be.
One thing caught me off guard: the medication changed the colour of my urine and stool. At first, I panicked, thinking something was wrong. But the doctors explained it’s just a side effect, nothing to fear. It’s strange what you get used to when you’re fighting for your health.
The joint pain is a constant companion, but it’s not the only hurdle. Being away from Hilmo, from my village and my work, has been one of the hardest parts. Here, I can’t earn a living. I can’t do the things I used to. It’s like tuberculosis didn’t just take my strength – it took my livelihood, too. That’s a heavy weight to carry.
I’m not alone in this, though. A nongovernmental organization stepped in with financial support for the month I’ve been on treatment and that’s been a lifeline. My family, my friends and the doctors here, they’ve all encouraged me, pushing me to keep taking the pills, to stay the course. Their belief in me makes a difference, more than they might know.
After 40 days, I can say I feel much better. The pain’s dulled, my energy’s creeping back, and I’m starting to imagine a future again. It’s not perfect – I wish the treatment gave me more strength, and a little more financial help would ease the burden – but I’m grateful for how far I’ve come.
Focus on healing
If you’re facing tuberculosis, here’s what I’d tell you: don’t wait. Start treatment as soon as you can. And while you’re on it, take care of yourself – rest, eat well, stay out of the wind if you can. Avoid anything that might slow you down. It’s a tough road, but the treatment works if you stick with it. I’m proof of that.
Once I finish this treatment, I want to go back to work, to earn an income again, to rebuild what tuberculosis took from me. That’s my plan, my hope. I believe sticking to the treatment is the key – it’s what’s pulling me through. If I could ask for anything, it’d be more energy from these pills and a bit more support to get me back on my feet. But for now, I’m focused on healing, one day at a time.