The one and a half year old child of one of my colleagues died after pulling a pot with boiling water off the stove and over himself. The hospital couldn’t save him. The men in our office went down for a brief prayer together. These rituals happen frequently, but mostly for older relatives who passed away; people whose time had come, not little children.
Another colleague found out his friend was kidnapped in one of the eastern provinces; the ransom is enormous. Some people don’t survive this. People are praying for a good ending.
We picked up our directors’ meeting against the backdrop of this anguish and worry. Our own small worries and anguishes about the project and our performance seemed insignificant for a moment, until life resumed. Here life resumes all the time.
Sylvia's Journal 
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