The Old Papa I had to leave behind in Kasongo-Mwana wasn't there this week; he died the day after we had to leave him behind. The little girl who took his place in the car was discharged from the hospital today, eyesight
intact. A man died of cholera in Dikulushi, but his pregnant wife has
recovered and is doing well, aside from the fact that she has lost her
husband. I am reminded of a family I cared for back home, who lost their
little girl 12 hours before their second daughter was born. And so I
find myself contemplating this strange balance, this exchange, as it would
seem, between life and death. Even though the space in between life and death may seem different from place to place, person to person, in the beginning and in the end, we are no different. All of the beings that share this planet are equal in this measure, even the roosters. I've been thinking about this a lot lately. Jack Johnson says it best. "One goes out, one comes in." But perhaps it is not so much of an exchange, but of a continuation. So far, it is not any easier to understand in Africa than it is in Canada. To console myself I went by the maternity ward and ogled all the new little people who have arrived. it makes me feel gratitude for the space in between. it is the best kind of pick-me-up.