Seb

My phone vibrated in my pocket, pulling it out I saw 'PCCD' was calling. This must be important.

“Hi Shannon.”

“I'm afraid I've got some bad news. Seb passed away last night”

I, like the many other PCVs that received the news that day, was stunned. No one expected this. Seb's return to work two weeks prior had been accompanied by a huge sigh of relief. Our friend was out of the woods. But apparently that wasn't the case.

I fought back tears as I fumbled with my keys to get back into my hut. No. I felt wave after wave of sadness wash over me as memories of Seb floated back to me. No. I thought about his family, and our PCBF family. No. Please, no.

I first had the pleasure of meeting Kiendrebéogo Sebraogo over a year ago. I didn't quite know what an 'APCD' did, but I was pretty sure there was no hope of me correctly pronouncing his name in the near future. He said we could call him Seb.

As I would learn over the next year, Seb was a truly extraordinary individual. This means something different to everyone, but to me it meant that Seb saw us at our worst – the sometimes neurotic, stressed-out, hyper-sensitive beings we all sometimes become in this country – and was there with a helping hand and a big smile. For Seb we were more that just employees, and this really showed in the relationships he developed. He brightened the lives of everyone around him.

Seb's passing really did make the world just a little bit darker. As we're left to pick up the pieces it has been humbling how many people have stepped forward to light up that darkness. I challenge myself and all of you to do a part as well. Be a Seb for someone in their time of need – like he was for us.

Thank you Seb. You've touched many more people than you imagined that you could. I'll do my best to honor your memory.

Goodbye friend, you'll be sorely missed.