There is nothing more painful to hear in this world than the
cry of a baby. The sound reached my soul above the commotion at the food
distribution site in a remote village in South Sudan. My ears looked across the humanity milling around towards the
direction of that incessant cry. My eyes captured the sound and the source of
that cry.
It emanated from a feeble baby lying on the lap of her
mother. With mouth wide open near the exposed nipple of her mother’s breast,
the tears had dried up on the black cheeks of the child. The cry became louder
as the young mother frantically switched her baby to her other shrivelled
breast. The helpless mother hugged her baby tightly to the now empty breast. Exhausted
at the emptiness, the baby’s cry grew into a shrill scream.
The other women in the long queue waiting with their own
babies to receive the ration of the day turned their heads away unable to watch
anymore. As the cries turned into deep sighs of anguish, the dishevelled mother
hugged her baby tightly to her thin frame and started humming a tune as she
rocked the baby.
Slowly the humming cascaded into a lyrical out pour of grief
and exuberance all at the same time. I did not understand the language in which
she was singing, but the baby did. She opened her eyes and looked up at her
mother with a deep understanding, snuggled closely against her mother’s comforting breast
and slept.
Silence.
The lullaby had soothed the baby into a deep sleep. But, it
woke me up and I started to cry.
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