One weekend in Addis, just like any other, Natty had a friend visiting from the States, someone he hadn’t seen in a long time. They decided to catch up by going out for drinks and enjoying the vibrant nightlife, indulging in all it had to offer. As the night unfolded, they met new people at the clubs, and Natty took a liking to someone with whom he danced, drank, partied and eventually left the scene.
“I would describe it as a mix of euphoria and excitement,” he later said. On the way home, buzzed and unguarded, the heat of the moment gave way to an encounter that felt harmless in its simplicity, fleeting, quick and easy to tuck away. He didn’t think much of it at the time. He didn’t think at all. That was until a few days passed and the “present” he’d unknowingly brought back with him began to unwrap itself.
“I primarily worked as a ride driver and my evening was going like any other day at work. I’d made a quick stop to relieve myself, and that’s when I felt it, a burning sensation followed by a white discharge after finishing. I immediately ran back to my car, heart thudding in my chest, gripped by a storm of emotion.”
There was panic, yes, but not only for himself. It was the timing, the questions he wasn’t ready to ask, let alone answer. The memory of that night started to feel different now, sharper around the edges. What seemed like a moment of freedom had taken a turn he hadn’t imagined.
He spent hours spiraling through internet searches that only made things worse. He couldn’t sit still. The silence in the car was deafening. There was someone waiting for him at home. Someone he loved. Someone who had trusted him.
He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know if he should say anything. He didn’t even know what exactly he was dealing with. His chest tightened every time he thought of how close they had been just the night before, how careless it had all been.
“Still, my mind couldn’t figure out who to talk to,” he said. “So I called a friend I knew in medical school and told him what was happening, about the night, the symptoms.”
“My voice was probably shaking. He laughed a little at first, maybe because I was rambling, or maybe to ease the tension. But then he got serious and walked me through what I needed to do.”“Relax, man. It’s probably gonorrhea or chlamydia. It sounds textbook. You’ll need a urine test, maybe a swab. They’ll treat you right away, usually a shot and a pill, nothing dramatic.” He told him to be honest at the clinic, to mention how it happened, and reminded him that oral encounters aren’t risk-free, even if people pretend they are. “It’s treatable. Just don’t wait, it’s a good thing you contacted me early on.” And somehow, that calm, matter-of-fact tone held Natty steady.
What lingered, though, wasn’t just the discomfort. It was the realization of how little he’d understood about risk, how something so seemingly minor could ripple out into something far more complicated. The experience stayed with him, not just in body, but in the spaces between trust, guilt, and silence. He learned about STIs that day, especially the kind people rarely talk about. And in doing so, he came face to face with a version of himself he could no longer afford to be.
Disclaimer: All names and places in this story have been changed to protect the privacy of those involved. While the details have been anonymized, the events described remain true.
Written by : – Kidus Solomon, 4th Year Medical Student
English
Amharic