I am not sure where to start. I have been meaning to get on here and blog- and yet this is far from the post I had expected to write. So I will just start.

While here last time I met a girl named Kaddie. She came to my rescue one Sunday. Pst. Ibrahim, Aunty Mary, and I were walking to church when my sandal broke- now we walk a lot here and trying to drag my sandal along was not going to get me very far. I talked about just going back and having them go on without me when Kaddie (at this point just the girl on the road where we had stopped) offered to go into her house and borrow me a pair of her shoes. So even though they were a touch small- we were able to continue on our way to church. Later that day I brought back her sandals along with some of my Chrystal light juice packs- everyone here seems to love them. We introduced ourselves for real this time and the friendship just grew. Kaddie is probably 19-21 yrs old. At times she is very mature and others... She is still learning and growing. She has blessed me often- cooking food for me, bringing me jewelry and shoes. So often here people ask and ask of you, but Kaddie has always been quick to give to me as well. While my family was here she went for a long walk with us (not a favorite thing for people here to do- walk just for walking's sake) as well as cooked a meal for our whole team. I think it was the first African food that my dad and family ate and actually really liked. The next time he saw cassava he was quick to try it again. I will admit that she does not like sharing me so much, but we have been working on that and I think she has come a long way. When I left last year she came to see me as I was packing, but as Karen and Mark can tell you she spent most of her time pouting and not knowing how to deal with my leaving. But she loves me and I love her- showing it is just not always easy for everyone.

I was able to send Kaddie a couple letters while I was away but she has no phone and contact was very limited. I arrived back to find that Kaddie was pregnant. I admit that this was not easy for me to take in. Kaddie is not married, hasn't finished her education, and is young in so many ways. She and her mom stay in a mud hut that is just two rooms. In Kaddie's room the bed takes up all but two feet. The walls touch the bed on three sides and at the end there is just enough space to walk and keep a few items. They don't have much- but her mom does try.

I asked about the baby's father. Where was he? Was he still involved? How did she feel about it all? The dad was in the village but she felt that he would be involved. It turns out she was pregnant before I left (though she didn't know it at the time- could have contributed to her extreme moodiness before I left) the dad had been around now and then but not with any consistency. She like many women I think had a lot of hope for what could be, but I am not sure the man was ever on the same page. About one week after I arrived- Kaddie's older brother passed away. I did not see Kaddie for a couple weeks as there is much tradition involved in events like this. She stayed where he had been staying- then they have the burial, a three days after service, a 7 days service and eventually a 40 days. Not long after she came back she gave birth to a baby boy. I happened to be in Freetown when she delivered but I was able to get a cute little baby outfit there and visit her shortly after returning. Her son was just 2 days old and they all joked that he was my son- as his skin was still light. He had a full head of curly jet black hair and he was TINY. Kaddie was so pleased. I visited as often as possible over the next few weeks. I asked her what she thought about being a mom- without hesitation she would reply, "I love it." Does he sleep at night I asked- "not too often." Are you tired? "yes" So how do you feel? "I am fine, when he is awake at night we listen to the radio and I sing to him. I like being his mom."

It is part of custom here (not all follow it but many do) that the baby is not named right away and if the child is a boy then usually the father will give the child a name. I knew that naming did not happen right away but over the next few weeks as I would ask if he had a name yet Kaddie would reply that his father had not come yet. I eventually stopped asking too often. We were able to go to church together one Sunday- I held him all through service and then carried him the 1 1/2 mile home. He was so light I didn't even feel him. All the way people would smile and admire him- asking if he was my piken (child). "No he is my friend Kaddie's." and she would smile bright. Even after he was born Kaddie found time to cook my favorite African sauce and bring it to me. I missed seeing her that day, but I carried her basket back to her- on my head the whole way with no hands. This past Tuesday Kaddie sent word that she was going to be coming to spend the day with me but when she didn't show I went to see her Wednesday. She was staying at her aunt's house not too far away because her son had a cold. Everyone on the road knows of our friendship so I didn't even make it to her house before I knew she was in Kandeh Town. So we headed there. Fatmatah and Mabel had come with me and by the time we arrived he was doing much better and he and Kaddie were going to head back home. Over the next few days he was doing fine and Kaddie even thought he was eating more and growing more than he had been.

This morning as the cooks arrived on the compound they brought news to me that this morning Kaddie's pikien had passed away. Wait- that's not right. I saw her Saturday walking on the road with her child. He was awake and alert and she was happy as could be- are you sure? I gathered my things and walked with Fatamta to Kaddie's house. I met her at our friend Felix's and just walked up and put my arms around her. She cried and cried- and all I could say was I'm sorry, I'm so sorry and pray. She said he hadn't been ill- no fever, no cough. He just died. We headed back to her house- the two room mud hut. Outside were many neighbors and family members. Inside her mom and aunts were with the baby. Here it is different. The family prepares the body and the burial happens the same day- unless you have money. Well here that is not the case. So they washed him and wrapped him. They prayed over him and cried. Kaddie would go silent and drift away and then just break down crying. She would often come and sit near me. Many would come and say sorry- and the usual "Hush yeah" but they would always want to add- "don't cry Kaddie. This is God's plan." or "God works all things together for the good of those who love him." or "Don't cry Kaddie- God will bless you with more children." I held her and said it is okay to cry and be upset. Jesus cried and it is also written that there is a time to grieve. God knows your pain and it is perfectly alright to feel it and let it out. It is true that he is in this. He knew this would happen and he will be with you through it all, but you can also cry to him, you can miss your baby boy and even if you have more children- God chose you to be this precious boy's mom- he chose you to love him and you did just that. He is your son and always will be and you can cry all you want.

It was so painful to watch. When they were finally ready Kaddie went in with them and finally let go. She wailed and you could almost feel her pain physically. They told her it was time to go and tried to take him from her- she just couldn't let him go. When they did she just collapsed on the floor. She didn't want to go bury her son. She didn't want to go leave him there. Most of the men had gone ahead to the cemetery, the women stood watching- most of them crying with her, but no one going to her. I was so proud of my Fatty- she walked passed all these grown women right to Kaddie- no fear and no hesitation. She put her arms around Kaddie and held her for a moment. I walked in with them both and together we helped Kaddie up. Fatty got her clothes and helped dress her all the while gently encouraging her. I don't know what she was saying as she spoke in Mende- but you could see Kaddie responding and feel what Fatty was saying without even knowing the words. The three of us walked together- Fatty and I holding Kaddie- all with tears streaming down our faces. In front of us a girl walked with a bath on her head- it is a thick plastic bowl type thing that we launder in or sometimes use for cooking. This was a small bath and inside was Kaddie's boy. This is how we got to the cemetery. All walking together with Kaddie's "sister" carrying her piken on her head. It was not a short walk. We crossed 5 wooden tree bridges and walked two different gravel roads. We finally came to a place where the men were waiting. I learned here from Kaddie that the man in the yellow shirt was the father. He had arrived at the home just shortly before we left for the cemetery on his honda. He didn't say a whole lot and didn't even go near Kaddie but I had heard everyone calling her when he arrived. It was not at all who I thought it would be. He looked as though he was in his 30's and not early 30's. He son still did not have a name- and I wonder now if he will. But at the same time being known as Kaddie's piken is not a bad thing. We all know how much she loves him.

We all gathered together and turned and walked into the bush. Along the way I saw mounds of dirt and realized that we were already here and all of these were the burial plots. We walked to the back and they started digging. All around us were very small mounds- all little children. Some of the guys went back to get some large sticks while another started digging. After the small hole was about 3-4 ft deep he stopped. They cut the sticks and gathered a pile of branches. We gathered around while Kaddie's uncle began to pray. Her small boy was taken from the bath- wrapped in his white cloth and placed in the ground on top of a bed of leaves. They so carefully placed the branches over him so that he would be protected and then filled the place with more branches. Then Kaddie was called upon to push in the first dirt. She was to sit down and use her waist to push it in. Watching this mother- and friend so dear to me- have to go through this... After this- we the women walked out while the men finished. Kaddie collapsed as soon as we stepped out of the bush- her mother was having just as difficult of a time- and we still had to walk the couple miles home. All of this happened within hours of her son's death. As we walked she looked at me and said with such question in her eyes- "Christie, my body aches all over- why?" Oh Kaddie- you are going to feel it.

We brought her home to bed and then went back to JCC. I wanted to get her some things as well as give them the half bag of rice the One-by-One team had left. They had left this bag of rice and told me to give it to someone who needs it. I had been waiting for that time and I think this is the time. When someone dies- everyone comes to you and often you are expected to feed them. Even if this was not the case- Kaddie and her mom shouldn't have to worry about where their next meal is going to come from at this time. After a few hours- Aunty Mary, Fatmata, and I (along with little Sallay on my back) headed to Kaddie's with Jerry and the bag of rice on his head. We arrived to find Kaddie just sitting out front without her shirt on staring off as milk dripped from her. I do realize this is not what everyone wants to read and yet it is such a part of what she is going through. She had slept only to wake reaching for her boy and find him not there. Wanting to nurse both emotionally as well as physically NEEDING to nurse. Again I just sat with her. Praying. I had received some advice on how to help her in this area- and shared it with her mother as well as give her some advil- but...

I will continue to go to Kaddie and continue to ask God for wisdom for me and comfort for her. We will cry together and we will remember Kaddie's piken together. For all my hesitations about Kaddie being pregnant she was a wonderful mom who loved her boy with all that she was.

It is a stark reminder of how difficult things can be here. When I left Sierra Leone last time I had 6 friends who were pregnant. One died while I was gone. Another girl who lives near Kaddie gave birth to a baby boy who is now 4 months old. My friend Christiana's baby was still born. Emmanuel's baby is now 3 months. And another friend gave birth to twins- but she and one baby died. 6 mothers- 7 babies. 4 mothers are still alive and only 2 babies. Our driver Willie had a boy who was 5 months old when I left- he passed away 3 months before I returned I read that Sierra Leone was the worse place on Earth to give birth as well as having one of the highest child mortality rates- but to actually experience it...

My young friend Marion is pregnant now- my prayers have increased.

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/05/17/opinion/17kristof.html?_r=1