She loved him that is why she wanted him to accompany her to the VCT center for voluntary counseling and testing. She was born in America, she is a Mexican, and she only came to Kenya in the company of her father and mother, a diplomatic family, her father was posted there as a consul. The man she loved was tall and slender; he spoke no other language but English, strictly non-kitsch English. He was born in Tanzania two decades ago. He is the only son of the first Attorney General of the Republic of Tanzania. He was born and brought up in the Wasigura sub-urbs of Dar es Salem. The capital city of Tanzania. He is not sure if he is gay or not. It is now that he is seriously feeling like not lose her, come sunshine or come rain. And this is the only reason he will not go for the HIV test at the VCT center. He will not go for the VCT not for anything but as the only surest way of protecting his love for her. Her love for him is so strong that she even feels for her parents, she prays for them as she does for him. It is her wish that God takes care of such delicate situation, the only son to the old aged couple in the times where the harms of the world are marauding around, looking for chance to hurt the sweet love in the arms of the owner. She really prays, in English, Kiswahili and Mexican. She has paid for the most posh VCT service in, Karen, Nairobi, the poshness that bestrides geographies and times of the East and Central Africa; she paid for both of them, him and her. The will to love. Her name is Lupita. Her maiden names weigh on her mind heavily like a sack full of cancer tumors. She is impatient, she longs for the day of adapting herself to the new names. Marital names, his surname. He was called Abu. A short version of Abubakar. He was also a Muslim. He loves his early adult-hood hirsute with sensation. He loves it with religious fervor. It is biology for religious greatness. Eugenics of the Prophet.