Death

August 1,

One of my neighbors died today. I am still shocked. On my way home from school I saw at the end of my street what appeared to be a funeral. I have already been to four, but this one even though it was still obviously Muslim, seemed very different. For one thing, there was the weirdest most haunting sounds coming from the women, as they wailed and shook. I saw some of the men crying too. This is the house on the end of my dirt walk, where they always try to feed me and welcome me in. Every morning and evening I talk with this family. As I walked by today, they pulled me in. I looked for my mama, but I did not see her. I was scared because I did not know what was going on or who died. I stayed for a minute, and paid respects and then hurried home. I did not see a body.

When I got home my mama was in the yard. She saw I was upset and I asked her what was going on. She told me in Kiswahili, of course, that a two year old in that house had died today. She had been unsupervised by the charcoal fire where water had been boiling. Somehow, she had dumped the boiling water on herself. They tried to get her to the hospital, but she died. This small child was a twin. Her brother is still alive. I said hello to them that morning, and this evening she is gone.