eightstrong was born on the same day as my daughter, Eliana Frances. Sitting alone in the hospital room after my daughter had been whisked away to the neonatal intensive care unit, five of my longtime girlfriends called me. Together we were the Six, and with two recent births, we had become eight. We were, my friends told me, eightstrong – reminding me that my daughter, my husband and I were not alone. There is a name for this philosophy – in southern Africa it’s called botho or ubuntu, meaning “I am because we are,” or in the words of Archbishop Desmund Tutu, “My humanity is caught up, is inextricably bound up, in yours. . . . I am human because I belong. I participate, I share.” Desmond Tutu, No Future Without Forgiveness(New York: Doubleday, 1999), 31 (public library). We are all in relationship with each other. Mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, friends, wives, husbands, the hats we wear are multiple, and multiply exponentially.  By nurturing these relationships we learn to see each other more deeply.

We can do this through storytelling. By listening to each other’s stories, and sharing our own, we connect. And then, we may see that the joys and sorrows of your daily life are mine too.

eightstrong became hundreds strong in the two short months that Eliana lived and after she died. Her name, which means, “God hears,” was a harbinger of the community that would be built through her. When Eliana lived, and when she died, our family and friends, colleagues and strangers, heard our cries of joy, of sorrow, of pain. They were the eyes, ears, bodies, of a higher power incarnate, celebrating and crying with us. They were ubuntu. They listened to our story, Eliana’s story, and then they acted. And, through their actions, through the telling and re-telling of our story, our community grew.