I held his hand in mine and we prayed together. His teary sunken eyes were bloodshot. His lips were dry, cracked and bleeding. His wrinkled forehead stood pronounced above his shrivelled cheeks. After the prayer we hugged. I was hugging him for the third time. It is then that he whispered into my ear and said: “Keep praying for me my brother because as you see me here, I am a dying man.” He burst into tears. For close to five minutes, we held each other and cried together.