malaria

It took over a year for me to be ready to post this blog, but here it is, a memoire of  bringing my son, Sam, to experience the place and people we love and the sadness, fear and education we faced when he was infected with malaria. January 2015 The road is dry and dusty, so dusty that the leaves on the bushes that line the street are covered in red dirt and they look as if the bushes are dying.  Underneath the green peaks out and the orange and yellow flowers add confusion to the view.  The road is so bumpy that the van heaves back and forth under the strain of pot holes created during a time of great rain, now cemented into deep ruts in the road.  Cradled in my arms, with his head resting against a pillow to attempt to give him some comfort is my 8 year old son, Sam.  He has a fever again and he has barely eaten in two weeks.  This morning I negotiated with him to eat three Ritz crackers with peanut butter. He doesn’t want to eat, though he tells me if I had the ability to give him a cheeseburger […]