Ernest

“To live in Africa, you must know what it is to die in Africa” I read this quote from Hemmingway yesterday and although I’m not sure of the original context, it makes sense. Life’s fragility and precariousness are clearly apparent here. Life and death move through this country hand and hand, giving and taking equally and unexpectedly. It is feasible that any seemingly insignificant choice (boarding a minibus, crossing the street, waking up, walking a particular path) may transport you instantly and abruptly from the grasp of the former to that of the latter, irrespective of age or health.

Certainly my personal sense of mortality has increased a hundred fold in the past five months. Death is no longer a distant concept to be considered as a dreaded inevitability, years down the line, in the future of my healthy parents. It is here, all around, every day, touching every life intimately. Life expectancy at birth in Malawi is a mere 38 years. HIV and high infant mortality rates are responsible for this low number in part, but not completely. There is not a lot of gray hair here. I haven’t yet moved beyond acknowledging this fact. Mostly it’s just stunning. The situation is stunning here, and really, now looking back at the US, it's stunning that death there is a distant foe rather than an unwelcome but tolerated relative. I’m not planning on dying soon; I’m not taking any excessive risks. I’m protecting myself as best I can from HIV in the labor ward and careening minibuses on the road, but I’m recognizing that each day is a gift not an entitlement. The 80 years on this planet, which I previously perceived to be my birthright, I now see as a hope.