Managing Miracles
So I saw a baby die today. He/She was four days old. Very light-skinned and fragile as babies that age usually are. I had taken my daughter to the hospital because I noticed she had become a bit testy in the last two days; which is unlike her. She is usually a very happy kid. (Sometimes too happy; she wakes up by 4am and starts jumping on your stomach and reciting all the new words she learnt during the day. But I digress.) So, I took her to the hospital to be tested, and treated for malaria. As I gave the receptionist my card, a woman walks in. She looks very disheveled, though not dirty, and anxious. Her hair was matted and short, as though in the beginnings of short dreads, and she wore a large blouse that most likely belonged to a skirt, and a mismatched wrapper . As she expressed herself to the receptionist who obviously had had this conversation she seemed to be crying, and pretending to cry at the same time, all the while staring at the tiny bundle, wrapped up in several wrapper