The Gift of Feeling
In 2001 I was thirteen, and my grandmother had come from the village to Windhoek to seek medical attention. Every time a siren went off, she would shake her head and go Uh Uhh and say, “oh my God that somebody’s child.” We, the kids, would wink at each other. Giggle in secrecy at her. We were accustomed to the sounds of the city without consideration of the lives behind the sounds. My grandmother felt everyone’s pain so intensely. When she passed in 2003, I began to see t...
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