There are stories that shake a community. And then there are stories that shake a nation.
The case of an eight-year-old boy in Midsayap, Cotabato—now fighting for his life after testing positive for HIV—is the latter. It is a wake-up call we can no longer afford to ignore.
For years, government agencies and development organizations have talked endlessly about “interventions,” “awareness,” and “prevention programs.” Yet the numbers keep rising, and the victims keep getting younger. If that doesn’t call into question the effectiveness of our HIV measures, what will?
This child, now undergoing treatment for oral fungal infection, tuberculosis, and pneumocystis—an extremely dangerous combination of bacterial, viral, and fungal infections—is the youngest HIV patient recorded in the province. That should horrify us. It should anger us. And it should force us to demand clarity on how a child barely in primary school contracted a virus that is most commonly spread through sexual contact and blood transmission.
Experts are still investigating the source of infection. But this case reveals a deeper truth: despite billions allocated for HIV response, despite international support, despite public campaigns, our systems are failing—failing to educate, failing to detect early, failing to protect the vulnerable.
Mindanao now hosts multiple regions among the top 10 areas with the highest HIV cases nationwide. Region 11 alone saw a 21 percent surge, while Regions 10 and 12 each recorded 178 new cases in just three months. Across the country, 5,101 cases were reported in the first quarter of 2025 alone. This is not just a rising trend—it is an accelerating crisis.
We cannot keep pretending that our interventions are working when the data says otherwise.
Where is the aggressive, sustained information drive?
Where is the comprehensive sex education that could actually prevent transmission?
Where are the community-based testing programs that meet people where they are—before it’s too late?
And where are the safeguards that should have protected a child from being exposed to HIV in the first place?
For years, the Department of Health has repeated that HIV cannot be transmitted through casual contact, sharing meals, or proximity. Yet stigma remains so strong that people avoid testing until symptoms become life-threatening. Many still do not understand how the virus spreads—clear evidence that awareness campaigns aren’t reaching the communities that need them most.
The truth is uncomfortable: HIV cases are rising because our prevention strategies are outdated, underfunded in practice, and disconnected from the realities on the ground. The government offers free testing and treatment, yes—but these services mean nothing if people don’t know about them, can’t access them, or are too afraid to walk into a clinic.
This child in Midsayap should never have ended up in this situation. And unless change happens, he won’t be the last.
We need stronger systems. We need honest conversations. We need real interventions, not buzzwords.
Because when the victims are getting younger, when the numbers are rising faster, when HIV continues to spread despite decades of warnings—this stops being just a health issue.
It becomes a national crisis. And worse, a national shame.
The question now is: will our leaders finally act with urgency?
Or will we wait for another child, another preventable tragedy, to force our attention once again?
The clock is ticking—and HIV is unforgiving.