Today, I bought a coffin.
Marita was still grieving. She sat quietly while the rest of the children played in high spirits, shouting and laughing through a game of soccer.
Marita’s mother invited us to come back later for supper. Hospitality can never be refused, even when the givers have so little. Marita’s father makes just $48 a year in a country to which both people and nature have been unkind.