It was filled from one end to the other with the bodies of little children. I froze in place. These morning funerals meant far more than saying goodbye to a precious child. What IRAs, Social Security, Medicare, and Medicaid are to people in the United States, children are to many people in East Africa. Families there try to have many children in the hopes that someone will be able to take care of them in their old age.
Life expectancy is about forty-five years because life is so hard.
In this region the infant mortality rates are so high that people don't even name their children until the children are three years old. The trench was surrounded by frail women, some of whom had nursed their babies until their breasts bled in hopes of saving their children. There were virtually no men in the camp. They'd either been conscripted into the army or killed, or they were hiding trying to wait out the civil war. I froze in my steps as Father Joey walked to the other end of the trench and opened the book to say things appropriate to those who have lost a loved one.