Pa Sango let out an agonizing scream, crumbling to the floor as he caught sight of his wife's lifeless body. My baby, my baby, oh my baby. Why, why w? I'm here to get you. Get up, get up, he pleaded. He tucked his left hand under her neck, lifting her off the cold concrete slab, and with the right, grabbed her in a full embrace, kissing her on the cheek. He held her tight, sobbing. Everyone watched, tears streaming down their faces. He held her hands, stretching her fingers, intertwining his fingers in hers. He squeezed, but it was t reciprocated. He raised them and sobbed again. My baby, my baby, get up. Get up. God, please, make her get up. Ahheee...eehh, it's cold in here, baby, let's go home, get up, get up. In many parts of the world, especially the developing countries of the world, thousands of preventable deaths occur on a daily basis. In narrating Mama Sango's tragic, untimely, and unnecessary death, Ben Zama deftly intertwines love, marriage, debauchery, hypocrisy, faith, fortitude, and reward to address the issues of our time in a more practical and somewhat satirical way. This fluid, suspenseful vel leaves the reader wanting for more, generating more questions than answers, albeit in a lighthearted manner.