Sleep came quickly after days of not feeling tired in the least bit. It hit me like a brick. One minute I was reading; the next thing I knew I was waking from a book-in-hand slumber. I only slept for a few hours though, and I am still in the dazed phase of crossing multiple international time lines. When this occurs, my head can sometimes play trickery games with me, and I start thinking about all sorts of things. Past experiences help me to know that this is happening, and I try to glide through it rather than attempt to understand, or act upon, my thoughts. And I know I will think more clearly when I have had full rest.
When I feel like this, several things happen. One, I have enormous love for my family. I feel so "awake". I also find myself looking at small gestures, rather than the whole. The rim of a black man's finger nail. A thread that hangs from a waiter's shirt. The edge of a crack in the wall. One lone bean on my plate.
Part of this dreamy state is from lack of sleep, but part of it also comes from the feeling of displacement while experiencing a place so foreign. I try to find comfort in a glimmer of something familiar.
The word "displacement" is found adjacent to "DRC" any time I read about the Congo. Thousands of people are not only living in encampments, but also have to be transported, or they flee, to new camps, so even the camps are not a stable environment for them. Add to that the horrors of rape, torture, and theft of what little food they acquire, and I can't imagine the psychologically challenging terrain they endure.
It is a very sad thing to be poor, hungry and thirsty. But to be displaced over and over and over again and fearful for physical safety at every given moment while simply trying to survive is simply unfathomable.
Yes, there is corruption here in the Congo. The constant political battling makes it difficult for aid to reach those in dire need. Some organizations have given up hope on sending aid. So what do we do? Read this and move on with our days? Mercy Corps and other NGOs relentlessly keep pressing forth in establishing avenues in bringing relief to those who cling to the most fragile line to life.
I am not here to ask anyone to save the world. But I am here to ask you to stop a moment and reflect upon how it might feel to live under these conditions. And I ask for this before I post affecting images. An image is never a representation of the truth; it only shows one whisper of life, subject to interpretation and relativity to the viewer. So before you see images here, read up on the DRC and conjure up in your mind what it must be like to live an existence here.
And I suspect that it is much worse than any of us can imagine.
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