My Sister Bintu

is not actually my sister for two reasons. First, she is my dad's sisters daughter which would make her my cousin. My dad's sister is quite old and feels more like a grandma around the compound than an aunt. Second, she is not her biological daughter. When a woman is unable to have babies -or more specifically a daughter- a closely related friend or family member will offer to let you raise one of their children if they have others to help around the house. a daughter will help her mother do all the work in running the compound like cooking, pounding grain, fetching water and firewood, and field work. So Bintu came to my aunt as a young girl. She is somewhere around the age of 20 now, and is married to a guy my age named Ensa. He is the best English speaker in the village, but works half of the year in Senegal until farm work starts during the rainy season, They were married in the mosque last year, and the big ceremony was planed for this upcoming dry season. She got pregnant sometime after they were married and so she had to begin working this rainy season carrying a baby. The pregnancy was not very easy, and before Ensa went to Senegal he took her to the big hospital in Basse where she was treated for malaria. After he left she made another trip and was treated for anemia.
When a husband is not around his brothers and friends will all take care to look in on his bride. People just come by to chat and see if any help is needed, or if they can pass anything along to the husband. Since I was friends with Ensa, and Bintu was my sister it was really no chore for me to spend a little extra time with her. I went out with her a few days to weed and plant her peanut field, but we really connected on the cloudy days when rain was imminent and no one went to work. I would take my book into the hut she and my grandma/aunt share and sit across from them reading, napping and chatting until the rain would come and I'd leave to shut my windows and doors and wait out the storm.
In the last week of September I decided to make a trip to Kombo to welcome Malcolm back when he returned to the Gambia after going home for a few weeks. It was a small vacation, but I didnt feel bad about leaving. I took time to hang out with my sister, and I was taking time to come hang out with another friend. I spent four days in town. On the morning I got up to head to the bus station to come home I got a text message that said my sister had given birth the night before, but after delivering the baby died on her way to the hospital in Basse.