This weekend was a tearful one and it has shown me again that there is a thing line between life and death. The weekend started with an impressive visit to the village where one of the female staff members had just given birth to a baby-boy. While I was looking at this young strong lady (-just turned 25-) who had just given birth to her fourth child I got tears in my eyes. Like many women here she had given birth in her small home, with no light, no running water or electricity. The only woman who had been present during the birth was an elderly woman from the village who, I assume. is their traditional midwife. Baring in mind the many complications that occur during deliveries here (- especially since most of the women have undergone circumcision when they were young-), I was happy to be able to see both the mother and the baby in good health. The following day however, the sad news reached us that the dear grandmother of one of the other staff members had passed away. As the customs here require, we all went there straight away to express our sympathy. When we arrived, I found both the garden and house packed with women supporting and comforting each other. The sadness of this loss was very clear and the tears ran down the cheeks of the approximately 70 women present. One of my friends explained that whenever someone passes away, the women have the 'task' to cry with each other to show respect and support. It was touching to see how they fulfilled this task with such gentleness and care. One of the older women who sat next to me on the sofa stated a wise comment that basically summarised all my weekend tears.
"Life is all about crying for new life and crying when the life has finished".
