Much of my time was spent in a refugee camp with Somali
health workers as we sought ways to provide basic health care for people
desperately in need of adequate nutrition, shelter and sanitation. We came to
respect each other as equals and to understand that we had much in common
despite our differences of skin color, faith and nationality.

    It was here, within my living and working relationships
with the Somalis, that I experienced the richness of family. When I allowed
myself to be helpless and dependent on a people I had come to serve, I was
nurtured and buoyed up by their genuine acceptance and sharing of their lives
and themselves with me. When you are invited to share in a mother’s struggle as
she gently covers the body of her dying infant, or are privileged to experience
the celebration of birth in a small, musty hut crowded with laughing women and
children, it is then that you begin to know and love each other as sisters and
brothers, fellow travelers in this journey of life. Through many struggles and
joys I became more conscious of my responsibility to share the richness and
poverty of my life with others in our global family who also seek to share with
me.