Today, I bought a coffin. We spent the morning in a village in Mozambique visiting Marita, a dear little girl whose best friend had died of malaria last year. 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....
Malaria: The disease that silences laughter
