Last weekend, my friend’s little brother died. I had never met him because he lives in another village, I don’t even know what he was sick with. This is the third sibling of my friend’s to die; she is 17. When she told me, her voice was softer than usual, but her eyes were clear. The next day, I went to her parent’s house in another village, with her aunt. The men were sitting outside of the concession and the woman were inside. We took our shoes off and sat in silence for about 20 minutes. Some of the other women were talking softly. My friend was the only one there that I knew, and she smiled when she saw me, but we didn’t talk. She invited Esther and I in the back to eat a little bit and they spoke a little. Her younger sister found out I could say a few things in Guiziga and she giggled and wanted to hear it. After going to the men and greeting them, Esther and I left. I saw her the next day and she didn’t seem any different.
I don’t like writing about this because I feel like I am putting my own take on something I could never understand. Death is not the same here. The family does not stop their whole life to mourn. They love one another passionately, but they accept when someone is gone. I think even now, I am trying too hard to make this some huge important thing that I have learned. But I don’t know really think I have learned anything except that death is a horrible thing everywhere and we are lucky that we are not so used to it. Maybe when I get to know my friend a little better, and my French is a little better, I can ask her more questions. I also don’t like the fact that I have used this horrible thing that happened in my friend’s family as part of my “cultural experience”. I want more than anything to learn the best way to be there for her, but I think what she wanted was to go back to normal. Her laugh in the last few days has been what hope means, what it must mean, for the people here.
I am doing really well, I was able to get a lot of work done yesterday, meeting people in Maroua. Today I bought a watering can and will buy polypots tomorrow to start a tree nursery with my counterpart in the next couple of weeks. I really hope I continue finding things to do, the days go a little slow when there isn’t much. I love you all and miss you tons!
I can not imagine what it must be like to become somewhat desensitized to death. As you know I am enjoying a counseling experience for my degree plan. I have talked with “my counselor” about thinking I should not feel so strongly about Meghan’s death since it has been almost 7 years. “Is there something wrong with me?” I ask. “No, there would be something wrong if you did not continue to feel the pain. It will always be there and it is ok,” she replies. I realize I am not weak because I cry. It is because my memory is so strong. I think God has given these people a wonderful defense mechanism because of the frequency of death. Otherwise they could not survive I am sure. Ashley you are a very courageous person and I admire you greatly. Please do not harden yourself to the joy that comes after that moment of pain when you realize God is in control. He is holding your friend and her family in the same hands He has held us in. You can climb into those hands anytime you feel the need because they are mighty big and there is always room. I love you and am counting the days. Actually right now I am just counting the months. I hope you get really busy so the days will go by fast. Love, Mom