Sousa Jamba
Last year, I was driving through a village in Chiumbo, central Angola, when I saw a woman by the roadside with her baby. The mother was obviously very proud of her chubby boy.
I stopped and asked whether I could photograph the mother and child. The woman hesitated at first; people in the villages are very suspicious of outsiders — as they often come with hidden agendas.
I told the woman, called Navinho, who I was and she became more at ease.
A year on, I was driving through the same village, and saw a woman running behind me signalling me to stop. I recalled the woman at once and asked after the baby.
She looked down and said the boy was dead. She wondered whether I still had the photo because it was the only remembrance of him that she had. I felt a deep pain; I have seen too many funerals over here with families carrying tiny coffins.
According to the United Nations Children’s Fund (UNICEF), Angola has the worst child mortality rate in the world: 157 out of 1,000 die before their fifth birthday. In the interior of Angola, most people go through life without seeing a doctor.
