Throughout the day, following my operation, I was restless. In fact, that night – last Friday – I couldn’t sleep in the hospital ward where I was recovering. Coincidentally, however, the Registered Nurse on the night shift had a few minutes to spare as she recorded my blood pressure and heartbeat, so she stopped for conversation. We talked about her birthplace – East Africa – and how she’d come to Canada in search of a career. Eventually, I asked her what her name was.
“Meseret,” she said. “It means foundation. My father chose it because it was a strong name.”