Post by Antonio on Mar 11, 2007 10:47:08 GMT -5
I just wanna share with you a recent fact that made me cry, sharing the pain of some friends of mine.
Beauty was a real beauty. Her slender, gorgeous appearance, her sweet face always smiling, her elegant allure, worth of a princess, could not remain unobserved in the streets of Eku, near Warri, the Nigerian port, between the ocean and the big Niger river, down yonder in Delta State, where the little, proud Urhobo nation lives.
Everybody in town knew her, though she was not an important person. She was just a humble worker, who was living of a little salary, as they use to live there. Nevertheless, she was a special person to everyone who knew her. Everybody loved her, everybody was always looking for her kindness, generosity and living joy, that she widely spread around her. She knew how to give you fun, and how to bring you up in the hardest day. She was always there for everyone, come rain or come shine. Beauty was a beautiful person, not only a beautiful girl.
This year Beauty won’t see the long summer rains of her homeland. She’s gone last week. Lately, Beauty didn’t feel fine. She had a bunch of strange, recurrent disturbances. She tried to get relief with some empirical therapies, but she could not get better. She was losing strength. She kept on smiling, though, and never complained. Eventually, she was taken to an hospital, the Eku Baptist Hospital, and got a diagnosis. It was a severe disease that made her feel bad.
Suitable therapies are available. They cannot defeat the disease, but they can make you survive comfortably for a long long time. Unfortunately, therapies are costly, they cost too much for the little funds Beauty had. They aren’t given for free, in a country that doesn’t have a true health service.
Beauty was dismissed from the hospital and came back home. Then she fast begun to get worse. She passed away in the arms of her desperate mother in a shining, clear day of the warm equatorial winter.
They knew, Beauty and her mom, that they had faithful friends also up there in Europe. They left their homeland years ago, but they wouldn’t have hesitated for a moment to help Beauty. Nevertheless, Beauty and her mom didn’t ask anything. That dignity of poor people didn’t let them ask for anything. Living down there, you end up with resigning yourself. Even monstrous things, like dying because you lack something like 75 euros seem normal, in the natural order, as well as season changes. To be born, to grow up, to live, to reproduce and to die, all put in order by our Maker.
On the contrary, I tell you that a world where you can die because you lack 75 euros has not been made by God. It has been made by us humans. It’s me talking, from my beautiful house, in a beautiful, tidy town, in the most rich region of a rich country. Down yonder in Africa, they don’t think much about it. They don’t even get surprised when they die because of d**n 75 euros.
Beauty didn’t rebel against that, neither rebelled her mother. She just cried while her daughter was slowly passing away, without making noise.
Well then let’s see to it ourselves, let's rebel! Can we still let someone die for the only fault of being poor? We have to demand our governments do much more, a hundred times more than they are doing, to save millions people from dying from infectious diseases and hunger. Or maybe we prefer they reduce our taxes (have you ever seen someone who was poor because of taxes?) and let people die, if outside our sacred frontiers. As far as I am concerned, I don’t wanna live in a world where someone can die because of lacking 75 euros, or even less. This doesn’t happen in my country, though it has its flaws. We don’t let it to happen. Then we must not let it happen anywhere.
I will miss you, Beauty, though I never met you in person. I will miss you because your loving friends, will miss you desperately. We were too late to rescue you, gentle, poor princess. Now we just can cry. You, on the contrary, you at least, I beg you, smile, wherever you are, smile once more, do it for us. You smile from the widely open, boundless African sky, over your simple grave, down yonder where the big river meets the ocean. Then we’ll feel like smiling again ourselves, even in a world where you died because of 75 euros.
Beauty was a real beauty. Her slender, gorgeous appearance, her sweet face always smiling, her elegant allure, worth of a princess, could not remain unobserved in the streets of Eku, near Warri, the Nigerian port, between the ocean and the big Niger river, down yonder in Delta State, where the little, proud Urhobo nation lives.
Everybody in town knew her, though she was not an important person. She was just a humble worker, who was living of a little salary, as they use to live there. Nevertheless, she was a special person to everyone who knew her. Everybody loved her, everybody was always looking for her kindness, generosity and living joy, that she widely spread around her. She knew how to give you fun, and how to bring you up in the hardest day. She was always there for everyone, come rain or come shine. Beauty was a beautiful person, not only a beautiful girl.
This year Beauty won’t see the long summer rains of her homeland. She’s gone last week. Lately, Beauty didn’t feel fine. She had a bunch of strange, recurrent disturbances. She tried to get relief with some empirical therapies, but she could not get better. She was losing strength. She kept on smiling, though, and never complained. Eventually, she was taken to an hospital, the Eku Baptist Hospital, and got a diagnosis. It was a severe disease that made her feel bad.
Suitable therapies are available. They cannot defeat the disease, but they can make you survive comfortably for a long long time. Unfortunately, therapies are costly, they cost too much for the little funds Beauty had. They aren’t given for free, in a country that doesn’t have a true health service.
Beauty was dismissed from the hospital and came back home. Then she fast begun to get worse. She passed away in the arms of her desperate mother in a shining, clear day of the warm equatorial winter.
They knew, Beauty and her mom, that they had faithful friends also up there in Europe. They left their homeland years ago, but they wouldn’t have hesitated for a moment to help Beauty. Nevertheless, Beauty and her mom didn’t ask anything. That dignity of poor people didn’t let them ask for anything. Living down there, you end up with resigning yourself. Even monstrous things, like dying because you lack something like 75 euros seem normal, in the natural order, as well as season changes. To be born, to grow up, to live, to reproduce and to die, all put in order by our Maker.
On the contrary, I tell you that a world where you can die because you lack 75 euros has not been made by God. It has been made by us humans. It’s me talking, from my beautiful house, in a beautiful, tidy town, in the most rich region of a rich country. Down yonder in Africa, they don’t think much about it. They don’t even get surprised when they die because of d**n 75 euros.
Beauty didn’t rebel against that, neither rebelled her mother. She just cried while her daughter was slowly passing away, without making noise.
Well then let’s see to it ourselves, let's rebel! Can we still let someone die for the only fault of being poor? We have to demand our governments do much more, a hundred times more than they are doing, to save millions people from dying from infectious diseases and hunger. Or maybe we prefer they reduce our taxes (have you ever seen someone who was poor because of taxes?) and let people die, if outside our sacred frontiers. As far as I am concerned, I don’t wanna live in a world where someone can die because of lacking 75 euros, or even less. This doesn’t happen in my country, though it has its flaws. We don’t let it to happen. Then we must not let it happen anywhere.
I will miss you, Beauty, though I never met you in person. I will miss you because your loving friends, will miss you desperately. We were too late to rescue you, gentle, poor princess. Now we just can cry. You, on the contrary, you at least, I beg you, smile, wherever you are, smile once more, do it for us. You smile from the widely open, boundless African sky, over your simple grave, down yonder where the big river meets the ocean. Then we’ll feel like smiling again ourselves, even in a world where you died because of 75 euros.
