A Fine Line

Back home in the west, we human beings are able to cocoon ourselves into the delusion that we run the show. It’s not so here. Life and death are something that can be separated in America and the West. Life is what you are doing now; death is something that happens many years in the future. In the west if a child or even someone my age dies, it’s a tragedy. There’s “national morning”, a scholarship fund set up and the person gets talked about for years. It’s something that “never should have happened” or the person “died too young.” Here in Africa that is completely different. I can only speak about Mozambique but this line of life and death is just so different. Life and death walk hand and hand. Death can occur on so many levels in so many ways. It just sneaks up on you and hits you hard. Death is not something that is expected as it is in the west. It happens everyday and the people here deal with it and move on. It occurs on a regular basis and that can’t be stopped so it’s not a tragedy when someone “dies too young” because there never is a too young.

I’m writing this because of what has happened in the past 24 hours. I get a phone call from a boy I’ve befriended over the years, he stands on a corner in town and sells cashews. His English name is James and he’s been so friendly to me over the years. He’s in a family business too. He and his brother have been selling cashews on this corner for years. Everybody knows them, the tourists trust them and the cashews are delicious. That is why I was absolutely heartbroken to hear that James was in the hospital with his brother Pascoal last night. He was just walking home from the city and went to cross the road. He didn’t see a car coming around the bend and got hit hard by it. James seemed pretty upbeat last night. After all, they were at the best hospital in the region. I then remembered that we are in the poorest province of one of the poorest countries in the world. A friend of mine had worked at this hospital for a little over a year and she said that sometimes the hospital didn’t have any aspirin to give birthing mothers. Basically he was in trouble any way you looked at it. Unfortunately, I couldn’t get to the hospital as transport was not running but there is another volunteer who lives very close to that hospital who could help I thought. I was woken up this morning at 5:00 by a crying James. Pascoal died during the night. He was hurt badly by the accident. James was hysterical this morning as he should be and I’m just confused because could he have survived if he had the medicines or help really. Just got a call that the funeral will be tomorrow and I’m going to try to go. As always, transport is a problem. I just got back from buying some SMS phone messages from the mCel shop around the corner. I saw James. He held it together for all of about nil point 5 seconds and collapsed in my arms. It was a scene that made me realize he appreciates me and the other volunteers as more than just cashew buyers. He was hysterically crying into my chest and people (who know both of us) were walking by asking me what happened. I had to explain this (in Portuguese punctuated with my own crying) and I’m crying still as I write this. Poor James is doing all of this by himself because he has no other family. This was the brightest, smileyest kid I’ve ever seen. Taught himself English just so he could converse with the tourists! Please pray for him. He’s going to need all the help he can get.