It started raining again. Earlier today, we celebrated the 2nd anniversary of the children's home. As the final "amen" was said, huge drops started falling. But they lasted for just seconds. Later this evening, it started raining. Lots of rain. And now, as I'm getting ready to crawl into bed, the rain started falling again as a gentle lullaby. Not so gentle, actually. But hard rain on my roof puts me to sleep.
Often when it rains, I wonder about some of my neighbors, of whether the roofs of their huts are waterproof... But tonight, out of the blue, I think of families in Sudan, especially those living in cattle camps as they, too, are in their rainy season. Those who can fit would huddle together under a tarp. Others will find shelter under a tree, trying to hide from the rain.
How can one live having seen life like that and not be eternally affected by the memories?