I look down at my twig-covered hands and try to stay awake at a formal function. A few hours ago I arrived from the forest. I smell of repellents, I have sad eyes and my neck is bitten by mosquitoes. They look at me with disapproval, and I want to scream. The fact is that yesterday we learned that a child had died. There must have been a lot of children killed all over the world yesterday, but I don't know that. And for us, yesterday, the hope of saving a very specific child died.