on Haiti, and other stories

Like many, I suspect, I feel I should say something about Haiti but feel inadequate expressing it.  I feel inadequate not merely because of the enormity of it, but because in a globalised world so many of the things that happen become stuff of stories rather than reality.  Can I comprehend the number of dead, littering the streets and graveyards, rotting where they lie?  Can I comprehend that each is an individual life, like mine, extinguished?  That now that which was a person lies as carrion for the scavenging birds?

I have to tell it to myself time and again; I have to keep on reading each report; I have to go over it in my mind until it becomes more than just a story. I confess sadly that I am not very familiar with Haiti, aside from knowing its existence.  My most common encounter is merely with the mysterious 'Haitian' in sci-fi drama Heroes.  Huh. Yet another story.  Which brings me to wonder if we are so used to seeing tragedy and violence dramatised that we cluster the make-believe and the real altogether into one distant lump.

By no means is my post title meant to be flippant.  It is my way of reminding myself how easy it is subconsciously, unwittingly, to consign truth to fiction.  I want to make myself conscious of the fact, and seek out a remedy.

Haiti - already wrapped in poverty, is ill equipped to deal with the disaster - without the structure or the resources to effectively manage the recovery.  One can only hope that the promises of the world are kept.  Let's be real here and truly confess - when this sort of thing happens outside of our 'world' - and by that I mean the world we are used to - it feels more distant than if it had happened in our 'zone'.  In some ways this is inevitable, like the fact that the closer to home something is the more it affects us.  But that isn't just what I'm talking about here.  Others have said it better than I can.  In his post on this subject, Alan Wilson says: 'A disaster like this exposes, in a gut wrenching way, something we live with surprisingly easily as long it’s kept in its place on the back burner — the impact of inequality in the world.'

Will this become a mere hiccup in the consciousness of the Western World?  Such vast suffering just another story?  Will we forget?  Or will we remember?  And how do we respond?

Image from BBC website

interceding

An Australian friend texted me last night to ask for my prayers for those affected by the devastating fires... The situation has often come into my mind the past few days; I cannot imagine the terror or speed of such fires, and the fact that some may have restarted them deliberately defies belief. I was once in a fire - minuscule in comparison, but it sensitises me to it and when watching the screen and hearing of the killing (death seems too weak a word when a car is engulfed so quickly in fire that the occupants cannot escape, even for the fires that were accidental) I feel a flicker of terror at such an untame-able foe. I pray for comfort and help for those dealing with such devastating loss - beyond that my prayer is mute, offered from my small heart in my small hands.

I'm reminded that in an age of globalisation my neighbour is both living in my street and also the opposite side of the world. I'm reminded that there are many desperate situations the world over. I'm reminded of my own apathy. I am reminded of my helplessness, but also my obligation to remember those suffering deeply in our societies and in our world. I'm reminded I should be interceding for others frequently. When I am tempted to walk by on the other side, even unconsciously, I try and imagine myself in their place - not that I can ever come close to capturing or understanding in my own self the suffering of another - but at least to practise empathy in the best way I can, and in so doing, not forget.

Never forget.