life is not fair
When I was a little kid and would meet limits placed by my parents with cries that they were being unfair, I was often told that life is not fair.
During my time in Morocco, I knew of three individuals who fell from a roof or high window, and unfortunately, out of those three, only two survived – a neighborhood toddler who was caught before he plummeted to the ground and my Ninja cat.
Back in November of 2010, my Fulbright ETA friend in Ouarzazate lived in a building where a young boy fell to the street from a window in his family’s apartment. An ambulance was called and he was taken to the clinic, but, because it was late at night, and the clinic was not staffed as it should be, the boy did not receive the care he needed. He died as a result of his injuries.
I cannot imagine what it is like to lose a child. I hope his family has been able to find peace.
The closest I have come to experiencing heartbreak was Ninja’s escape followed by three days spent on the streets of Errachidia, and I am acutely aware of how fortunate I am to be able to say that.
A year and a half after the boy in Ouarzazate passed away, I cannot stop thinking about him and the fact that he died and Ninja lived.
God’s will, some might say, and who really knows all the factors that were involved that resulted in one living and the other dying.
After finding Ninja on the street with two broken hips and some other injuries, I don’t know that he would have survived had we not taken extreme measures to secure medical treatment for him. And without access to a number of resources, medical treatment would not have been an option.
I am incredibly grateful that we were able to have Ninja put back together again, but I also find it extremely unsettling that matters of life and death come down to what resources you have at your disposal.
That’s life, I guess, and life’s not fair.