Everything I did today feels like folly when I look through that fence at Bashir, a little boy on the outside looking in, waiting for famine to claim him.
What are we to do in response to little Abdifatah?
Abdifatah is a victim of the famine in the Horn of Africa. They’re calling it the worst drought in 60 years.
My wife teaches in a school full of Somali children, many of them named Abdifatah (it’s a fairly common name, like John in the U.S.). Most, if not all, of her kids have family back in Somalia.
While famine has been officially declared in parts of Somalia, the crisis extends into Ethiopia and Kenya. Much of Southern Ethiopia, where my son Milo was born, is in a state of crisis or emergency. Families are starving.
But that feels so insignificant as I turn back to my own worries, which all seem insane after looking into Abdifatah’s vacant eyes.