Venom of ignorance

There was a man I knew— bitten by ignorance’s venom. All his life, he groped through shadows, searching for cures in the dark— but he found none, until he bit the dust. One day, while spring still painted the world, his sun just beginning to rise, and the stream sparkled with promise, a band of robbers stormed our street. Every home was stripped of treasures— except his... because poverty was his landlord. They spared his home for being poor, but their leader paused— then changed his mind. He gave the man a brutal choice: be robbed—or be infected with HIV. The man begged for time to think, and they let him in, while they waited in the living room. Five minutes later, he returned, calm: "I’ll take the virus." Their leader—a newly diagnosed patient— wasted no time. He jabbed him with five millilitres of infected blood. Then they left, his poverty untouched, unbothered. Neighbors saw the robbers leave empty-handed, and feared the worst— no sign of the man afterward. They rushed to his home, hoping to help or mourn. But to their surprise, they found him smiling— ear to ear. He told them everything. Everyone was furious, calling his choice foolish, deadly. But he grinned and reassured them: “Don’t worry,” he said. “I wore a condom before he injected me. So I’m safe. No way I’m getting the virus.”