Among the 38 of us who went through the futampaf initiation in the Gambia in February was a young woman from South Africa named Xandi.
Willow-thin, live brown eyes, hair shaved almost clean from her head, Xandi (pronounced ZAN-dee) was a tiny whirlwind of energy, enthusiasm, optimism.
When she wasn’t performing traditional African dances like a tornado, you learned to listen closely when she talked — not so much for what she said as for the joy and fearless spirit with which she said it. Boundless, uncompromising. A human flame, burning bright before our eyes.
I just opened an email a few moments ago, a forward from a fellow futampaf initiate. Only days after the ceremony, Xandi died in her sleep.
I don’t know why she died. I may never know. Nor do I know her age, except that it was far too young. But those are details. What matters is the lesson she leaves behind her:
Live every moment you have. Love every moment you live. Take not one breath for granted.
Be at peace, Xandi. Rest if you feel like it.