A speach prepared by Rachel for a local presentation in Toronto, Ont.

Helen lost both her parents at two years old. She grew up under her aunt's care along with a dozen other orphans. At ten, she left, and began working as a maid in a family where she was raped on a regular basis. At twelve, Helen became pregnant; she is HIV+. Today, she attends the Umoyo Training Centre which welcomes under-privileged teenaged girls, many of whom have been orphaned by AIDS. She currently spends her days learning the basics of cooking, sewing, knitting, farming, reading, and even her rights as a global citizen. But the program at Umoyo only lasts for one year. Helen desperately wants to continue her education after Umoyo, but unfortunately she does not have the funds to cover the tuition.

We met Helen in March at Umoyo. Her life story is special but sadly, very common in Zambia. It deeply touched me and inspires my activism today. The Umoyo Training Centre accommodates sixty-four adolescent girls, pulled from dreadful situations in their communities. Umoyo's goal is to make the girls more independent, and to help them be able to overcome some of the obstacles that they will encounter in their lives after Umoyo.

The ambience at the school is full of joy. We were surrounded by playful girls singing and dancing for our entire stay. Throughout the trip, we questioned how these girls could continue living with such enthusiasm despite so much suffering? They have lost everything, yet are still hopeful for their futures.

This was an experience I never will forget. I was expecting to be greeted by emaciated and disheartened girls. I was amazed to meet cheerful, affectionate girls, full of life and dreams. I noticed that the way they interacted with each other, was the same way that I interacted with my friends in Canada. We are very similar, but our lives are so different. I was born in an affluent country where I have been given the opportunity not only to go to school, but to live safely with my family. One of the questions we were asked in our interview was 'what are you the most afraid of in your life?' Most of us Canadian girls feared getting trapped in a dead-end career. Helen and the other girls were afraid to have their lives cut short by AIDS.

I cannot accept the fact that three quarters of the girls that I have just met at Umoyo could be dead in a few years if they do not receive anti-retroviral medication. Umoyo provides treatment while they are at the school, but after their stay at the centre, they will have to find their own medication. The moment that perturbed me the most, was my visit to a cemetery, a huge field, covered with weeds, where thousands of anonymous persons were buried. I couldn't help but think of my friends at Umoyo, and wonder how many of them might one day lie in a similar field, forgotten by the world.

Before our stay in Zambia, the global crisis caused by AIDS was a mass of statistics. I was curious to witness firsthand how people could live under such dire circumstances. But now when I think about AIDS and Africa, I see the faces of the Umoyo girls: Helen, Anna, Miranda, Prescovia, and Mailes and how urgently these girls need our help. We cannot abandon them! If each Canadian donated $1 today to organizations like the Stephen Lewis Foundation, we could help many of the at risk citizens in Zambia. But each moment that we hesitate, the situation worsens. There are currently 12 million orphans in sub-Saharan Africa.

Umoyo means life in Nyanja. And for these girls, it is a glimmer of hope; hope of being able to live, continue their studies, and have a thriving future. But for most of the girls we met, these dreams will never be realized, unless they can find a sponsor. To make Canadians aware of the devastating impact that AIDS has on these Zambian girls, our team has filmed a documentary, tentatively entitled 'Umoyo,' that we hope to broadcast at high schools across Canada next fall. The faces of these girls, imploring our aid, will forever be etched in my memory.

At Umoyo, there exists a glimmer of hope... that we cannot extinguish.