the dance of the ink riddled fingers

Haiti, I’m sorry.

Posted in 52 pickup, thought spills by enisea on 22/01/2010

It’s been a hectic handful of days in Haiti, where an already impoverish country has been so devastated by (rumour has it) the greatest earthquake in 200 years.  Sadly, our first world nation of relative wealth, freedom and comfort has perhaps felt, at most, only ripples of a heart-wrenching scene.  Still, we, the young and potential generations of consumerism continue along with our daily vanities, and half of us (a generous estimation), perhaps don’t take them for granted. Oh, where did I put my phone? Darn it, the car’s out of gas. What clever little update shall I call attention to on facebook today? When Haiti, let alone the world of poverty on any ordinary day may well be asking, ‘where is my family?’, with many laments of Haiti has no life anymore. Haiti is not home anymore. My family is…I have no family.

But I am one who may remember now but not for much longer. I complain about my generation’s mis-used fortune and oblivious ignorance to world-wide suffering. I scream perhaps for a day, and cry perhaps for an hour, I refuse to eat perhaps one meal, thinking this might do them justice. If I feel bad then I know how they feel, I have equaled myself to those ‘lower’ than me and I am therefore less evil and less uncaring than my fellows. But what does less equate to when it contributes no more to preventable tragedies than a handful of sympathy and a bouquet of well-wishes.

Mass graves of about 10, 000 earthquake victims at a time. There have been 80, 000 buried in mass graves apparently. 8 graves. More to be buried. Estimated 200, 000 dead. Up to 2 million, homeless. Estimated 250, 000 in need of urgent aid, however more desperate you may imagine. Everything is only an estimate. Haiti’s approximate population is 9 million.

Did you want pictures? I was going to add a few but couldn’t decide on whether to make you feel sad or sick. So I’ll let you peruse at your own leisure: http://www.ft.com/cms/s/0/c1abe49a-0032-11df-8626-00144feabdc0.html

I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how I can help. I only know to pray, and even that feels like weak, tickle charity efforts. God, help these people.

Help these people.

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