Rosa died one afternoon, just after a thunderstorm had passed over and gone away. The beat of raindrops against the roof was becoming quieter. Rosa’s life faded into silence the same way. It was like a slow wave, rocking to stillness against the beach and vanishing.

                             Rosa died in Sofia’s bed. Lydia and Sofia were sitting by her, clasping her hands. Alfredo sat at the end of the bed, holding on to one of her feet.

 

Rosa was very thin when she died. Her face was covered in sores. She had been sleeping for most of the last months of her life. Now and then she woke up, as if to reassure herself that everybody was there as they should be. Then she would fall asleep again.

                             Once, when Sofia was alone with her, Rosa said something unforgettable.

                             ‘I’m not afraid any more. I’m not afraid now.’

 

Six months had passed since Lydia and the other women had forced Mr Bastardo to leave their land alone. During that time, Rosa had slowly become more and more ill. Dr Nkeka had visited a couple of times. He said that nothing could be done to save her.

                             Lydia understood well enough, but she could not accept that Rosa must die.

 

Raindrops were dripping on the roof. Alfredo was holding Rosa’s foot.

                             Then her life ended.

 

Do you know when they say soul-mates? Everybody uses it in personal ads. "Soul-mate wanted." It doesn't even mean too much now. But soul-mates -think about it. When your soul -whatever that is anyway- something so alive when you make music or love and so mysteriously hidden most of the rest of time, so colorful and big but without color or shape -when your soul finds another soul it can recognize even before the rest of you knows about it.