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It is now 8.30 am in the morning in Bali on our Island in Paradise.

We rose early this morning, gently coerced to consciousness by the sweetest of repetitive bird song to a beautiful day; there is not a cloud in the big wide sky and a welcome breeze across the lawn, which plays gently on the patio as I write this blog in the dappled shade of the veranda. The sound of the surf can be heard crashing on to the nearby beach; and this is comforting as I sit uneasily to capture what has already transpired this morning.

Not all is well everywhere in paradise this morning, my friend’s maid Eka was at my door at 7.30 in floods of tears, she has with her, her own small daughter. Though difficult to understand through sobs, I ascertain that her baby brother who only turned four on the 6^th of this month had died in hospital of head injuries sustained from a fall from his peddle bike. Through the sobs she tells me that this happened two days ago, that he had been very very sick. I could not help wishing she had told me this when it had happened as all the symptoms she describes now suggest that he had endured severe concussion. In the western world or indeed a western hospital here the outcome may not have been fatal.

All her immediate family live at home with her, She says her mother is frantic, and that is understandable at the loss of a child. The boy was seen as great blessing to the family when her mother had “adopted” as she put it, her new father, and together they had a new son at the age of 44.

There are no words I can give Eka to ease her pain; I can only embrace her as one mother to another and hope that I never have to endure such awful pain and loss. She still is clutching her own small daughter to her, who is now also whimpering.

Eka is such a warm person with a wonderful open face with a broad smile, a typically Bali smile. Today that smile is gone her tear stained face crumpled under the strain of what she is yet to endure. I wave her off on her motor bike, fearful for her own safety in such an unhappy state of mind as she heads off to sort out the family cremation.

But amidst all this turmoil of raw genuine emotion she does not abandon her job of looking after the guests at my friend’s villa. No, she has called a friend togo and make breakfast before she herself sets off to her own job. She does not allow her pain spill out and spoil the holidaymakers’ picture of Bali; Bali life simply goes on and so must she.

I take my hat off to these courageous and conscientious women of Bali whom without; food would not be set upon the table each night.

May Eka’s God, whoever he may be, open his arms to her baby brother and have him taken to a place of peace.