June 16, 2005
Freetown Sierra Leone
African Children Day
So I guess a couple of years ago the school children in South Africa protested against apartheid and were killed for there demonstration. Today they are honored. Amazing what people will do for freedom. I am clueless. Each child who protested has a better glimpse of what freedom is and should be then I suppose I ever will. I want to be more aware of what reality is. I am so lost in a fog of Western living. I think electricity is a necessity, if I think about it at all. I think missing a meal every blue moon is a horrible catastrophe. I am clueless to reality. I am blinded by the glare on my television, made deaf by the noise of business, people making more money so they can spend ludicrous amounts of it on things they don’t need. My brothers here do not have enough money to buy food for their families. Ali walked up to me on the beach today. He hates having to beg to feed his family, his son Abdul and wife Fatamana. I don’t usually give money out, for many reasons, I don’t want to encourage begging, I don’t think it helps anyone that much and in all honesty I do not have a lot of money myself. But today something was different. I had just been on a walk with God. Strolling across the white sandy beach and looking at the ocean praying about whatever came to mind. My thoughts were of Jen and our relationship, but mainly her protection as she travels to India and is sick, but I also thought about my life and its purpose. The purpose is so simple, loving God and those around me. Knowing that I can only do so much and the rest is up to God is so important. It is easy to get overwhelmed. I had just thought about these things and turned around to walk back to the clinic when Ali stopped me. He hobbled up to me on his crutches with complete humility. “It is so f***ing hard living here. Today is a special day and I do not have enough money to feed my family. I saw you walking on the beach and thought God was sending you to help me.” I agreed completely, I do think I was there to help him. I just didn’t know how to go about doing it. I was very honest with him, telling him I don’t like giving people money, told him why…well not the last point about me not having much, compared to him I am extremely rich. He nodded; he knew exactly what I meant. I asked him if there were any other way I could help that would have a more long term affect. He needed a job, but the only people with jobs are the few who were able to afford an education. You see, you need money to get schooling, schooling to get a job and a job to get money. It is a cycle that breaks the backs of the unfortunate, which make up the vast majority of the people here. Ali had been in school for a while, up until 1997 when the war started. Both of his parents had been killed and he could no longer afford to be educated, survival was necessary. Each person I walk by on the street has a similar story. This is a country full of broken and hopeless people. In all reality the States is no different. It looks different of course. We have not been raped and tortured by our neighbors. We don’t have to worry about surviving the day. We know when it rains we can be dry; when it is cold we will be warm. The circumstances contrast like night and day. The fact, though, is simple the world is hurting and feels alone. We travel in packs to avoid this tragic fact to be noticed by those around us. We try and cover our pain with makeup and fake laughs. Xbox, ESPN, and Hollywood…what else do we use to cover our pain. We have money; we can afford to cover our wounds. Not here. Here the wound is gaping and infected. Obvious to any who take the time to look up form their own lives to see those around. It can be seen on the faces of the bright eyed children playing in the streets and in the old man hacking at his sugar cane with a rusty old machete. It is all around us. People feel hopeless and alone. Survival however demands that they not try and cover up this pain. They wear there need on what is left of their tattered sleeve. I can not look to long or a flood of emotion washes over me and steals my breath leaving me gasping for air. I often do look too long. Maybe drowning is exactly what I need.