A Grim Rememberance

Saturday, February 24, 2007

Death is one constant that binds all of humanity together. It isn’t often times wished upon or planned, but it is a reality of our existence. There is no one cause. Millions mourn some deaths, while others are barely viewed as a statistic.

In my own life, I have been very fortunate. Those who passed have only made me stronger, as well as some of the relationships I have. Despite my Grandmother’s passing over 10 years ago, her presence is still a constant reminder to me. It is weird how death can affect you, whether it is the day after or 10 years down the road.

You may ask yourself why I am writing about death. For the posts that have spanned this year, I’ve tried to keep a humorous and often times sarcastic spin on things. They have been about my life and experiences here in Senegal.

Today, I present you with another one of my experiences, but one I cannot find humor nor sarcasm in, but sorrow and tears.

After spending much of the day doing laundry at the regional house in Libertie VI (about 2 miles from my house), I got on a car rapide, paid my 15-cent fare, and headed home. The only thing unusual was that I had more laundry then normal. As the packed bus was about halfway to my neighborhood of Patte D’Oie, traffic slowed a bit, and there was a group of people lining the street. Despite it being illegal for presidential campaigning to occur this weekend, I figured it had something to do with that. Unfortunately, my world as well as I’m sure others, stopped when we saw that it wasn’t a presidential election that had gathered these people, but a young child who lay motionless on the pavement, 20 feet away from me. A checkered sheet had been placed over the body, with only their feet showing. While I can assume a vehicle hit the child, I don’t know for sure. I don’t even know if it was a boy or a girl.

My view of the child lasted maybe 20 seconds, but I figure that their impact on my life will last much longer. Unfortunately, I’ll probably never learn the child’s name or who they truly were, and that is a shame.