Putting things into perspective

The scorpion incident paled into insignificance a few hours later..... Complete melodrama and I felt thoroughly ashamed of myself for thinking I had it tough up here in the mountains.

One of the boys in standard 5 died on Thursday. I had been told a pupil was very ill as we'd had a small collection on Tuesday.  He was about 11 years old I think and I believe was in the class with whom I was laughing and singing 'Animal Fair' last Friday.

The first couple of hours were spent in the staffroom as my colleagues discussed (in Kiswahili) what the arrangements and plans for the day would be.

I was then told the plans and I was one of the staff members who accompanied the little boy's classmates up to his house for mourning. We walked accross fields of crops up into one of the hills above Kirongwe (where the school is).  Eventually reaching the house, we were met by the father.  The grief and emotion was intense.  During the morning we were introduced to several family members, including the boy's devastated mother and sisters.  We were also taken in to pay our respects to the little boy, wrapped in a white sheet on his bed, looking so tiny and peaceful.  It was hugely emotional and upsetting even for one who did not know the boy personally.  I went through various emotions of distress and anger that this happens. I am acutely aware that this is part of life in rural Africa but it doesn't make it any easier to accept.  I have taught countless lessons on differences in development between countries, informing pupils about how poverty + illness often = death, but to see it at first hand and witness the aftermath made it all so much more real than dry statistics and facts in a textbook.  It just seemed so wrong that a boy should die because of where he was born. I am in no doubt that similar conditions in MEDCs could be treated and cured in all but extreme cases.  I don't actually know what it was, but from what I understand, he had some problems in his abdomen, possibly appendicitis or and ulcer perhaps and this was a reoccurrence following unsuccessful treatment a few months ago.

We sat outside for several hours, greeting and being greeted by the many mourners who had come from around the community. There must have been a couple of hundred people in total.  After prayers, the boy was buried a little way away from the house amongst the banana plantations. I did not see this part of the ceremony as the women stayed by the house, apart from the men.

Once the men returned, we accompanied the children back to school and said our goodbyes.

A tough day (but I am one of the lucky ones).