No kidding. I lived in Zaire back when it was still called Zaire, and woke up one morning to a cacophony of wailing...it was the funeral procession of a girl down the street who had died of cerebral malaria the night before. I was only 5 years old, but I believe that put a stop to my complaining about the bitter pills we had to take.

It's easy to forget that scenes like this are still played out a million times per year.