I hate the way these people suffer

Salam! Dahna Nesh? (Hello, How are you?)

This will be my last e-mail for quite some time, maybe a month and a little more. Tomorrow I leave at 6 am and arrive at 4 pm via car to a place called Bale. It is in the deep south of Ethiopia and it is officially known as the "poorest of the poor." I am very excited to go, but for some reason, incredibly nervous. If I thought that the place that I am is in a bad state now, wait ‘till I go to Bale. One of the sisters came back from Bale yesterday and she said, never in her many years of working in Ethiopia has she ever witnessed something like this. She found over 300 children in a forest abandoned and left to die from AIDS and another 20 people in a village all dead of malnutrition. She couldn’t believe that we are in the 21st century.

I will be working in ten villages and believe me, it will be one hell of a workout. In order to get from place to place I will have to walk, and by "villages" I mean real Ethiopian tribes. Oh God . . . I pray that I can make it.

Well, this experience has made me very physically tired, but when it comes to mental exhaustion — that’s something I cannot seem to explain. I have had to face every single one of my fears, from witnessing death, to being isolated and alone most of the time, to realising that I have only been away for two weeks whereas I feel as though I have been here all of my life. But then, I begin to wonder, where did I go wrong? I look around me and I see this life where people still smile through it all and where they all are a family who help one another to keep pushing and to keep striving. I am forced to look at myself and see the ugly and see the many things that I have tried my best to ignore.

I sat down and cried to myself last night and thought, "Did I really yell at my parents that night? Was it that many times I got drunk and passed out? Are you sure it was me that said those horrible things to my friends? Have I really been that upset with my father and for so long?" And believe me, the list seems to go on and on.

The most difficult part of this experience is being able to look deep down inside of me and see the many horrible things and remember what type of person I was before I came here. I cannot seem to get past the feelings of guilt and shame. Seems a bit harsh to say, but being here really makes you feel small. No matter how poor the people are here, overall, they are richer than I ever will be. They have the wealth in their hearts and the security with their strength and with their faith.

I try my absolute best to tell myself that I am trying my best and that I am a good person for doing what I am doing, but for some reason there is this huge brick wall that makes me forget all of this and instead slaps me in the face that says, "Stop giving up. Be stronger. Try harder."

I know that it takes a very brave and strong person to do what I do, but why is it that I don’t feel that way? Many people believe in me, but the question is, do I believe in myself? I am definitely my own worst enemy. I do not give myself any credit whatsoever but isn’t that what makes us better and stronger people? That way, we never stop trying and that way, we never stop growing. I feel so useless and even though I think it is impossible to do anything more for the people here, I still feel as though by me trying, I still would never really help.

Yesterday I was helping this man and I was absolutely positive that with my intensive care he could make it. Yesterday he slapped me straight across the face and pushed me, "Stop helping me! I want to die! Let me rot! I don’t care."

He went on and on. Then I slapped him back and yelled on top of my lungs, "Are you a coward? You slap me and I am the only one here who gives a crap about you? Where is everyone else? Do you see anyone else waking up at 5 o’clock in the . . . morning to help you? Don’t push me away and don’t give up!"

He grabbed me by the hand and said, "I have no one else."

Then I yelled again, "Are you blind?! You have me! Why else would I be here? I am here, and I am not leaving . . . and you better not either."

And with that, he grabbed me and hugged me and I swear my lungs were going to pop out. He was sobbing and apologising and saying, "I will try. I am sorry. I will not give up."

I smiled at him, "Good . Now puke some more," and I gave him the bucket.

This morning, I went to the market to buy him bananas because that seemed like the only thing that he could eat. I walked in and there was someone else in his bed, but that was okay because they change beds all the time. I looked around at the other beds and still, didn’t see him.

Hmm . . . okay. Went to the other wards. He wasn’t anywhere. Maybe they were giving him a shower.

"Nope, didn’t see him this morning," they said.

Then I got the nerve and went up to the sister, "Where’s my man?"

She touched my hand and smiled, "He passed away."

I looked at her and though I do regret saying it I replied, "He’s dead. Just say it. None of that ‘He’s in Heaven,’ or ‘He went to a better place’ crap. Just say that I didn’t save him and that he’s dead and gone."

She hugged me and said, "You can’t save everyone."

And then I cried and said, "That’s the thing. I haven’t saved anyone! They all die!"

I just gave her the bananas and walked off. Another failure. Another one dead. Sometimes I do agree with them — death is much better than being here.

I am so pissed off that I am here in the first place! I hate the way these people have to suffer. The women I am helping are not dying because they were prostitutes, the men that I am helping were not idle men who had sex with any and every one, and the children here did not play with needles and accidentally prick themselves. These people were born with it, they are forced to die because no one bothers to feed them, to build a well for water, or to give them clean clothes. The government sucks, corruption and power suck, and the selfish and the greedy suck.

"Pray for peace in Ethiopia," says the priest.

I feel like standing up and just yelling, "How many times are you going to say that? How long have the people here been praying for that?"

For centuries Africa has always had to face the worst of everything and I am so sick and tired of hearing it over and over! I have lost my faith which was the last thing I thought I would have lost. I try my best to pray and I always start off by saying, "Thank You, God for all of my blessings," but then it leads to, "But what about the millions of others here? Did you wake up one morning and throw away your To Do List? Africa should be number one on your list — not me, not anyone else."

I get so angry and so guilty that God has given me so much but it pains me to know that I have done absolutely nothing in my life to deserve anything that I have. Why is it that I have my family, my health, my education, my body? The people here have nothing and by nothing I mean nothing! Why did God give everything to me? I am thankful but it makes me feel ashamed and it makes me feel that I never would want to ask for anything ever again.

I am fine with what I have. I don’t care if I cannot go and travel the world. I couldn’t care less if I only get one Christmas gift and I don’t give a . . . if I cannot go out to a party or see my friends everyday. I pray, "God, don’t pay attention to me. Leave me be. Please hear the other prayers from the people here instead! Stop listening to those who don’t have anything to pray for!"

Is God blind? Can He not see what has been going on for so damn long? If there is a God, wouldn’t there be peace? I would never have to be here sacrificing my summer and causing worries to my family! I know that I shouldn’t question God’s work, but how can I not? I am surrounded by hundreds of people dying every day. And then after this, I go to my "home" where I cannot walk in the streets, or go out with my friends to anywhere we wanted to go, or go to the beach and stay all night.

I begin to wonder, which country is worse? Ethiopia or Trinidad? Life is so unfair and I have come to the conclusion that no matter what I do, I can never make the world right.

I am sorry I have written so much — I’m just really pissed off. Please pray that I have the bravery and the strength to survive in Bale — even I know that it will be difficult. I also wanted to say, that don’t think that you have to travel across the world to a Third World country to try and make the world better. The only thing that you will ever have to do is just try and be the best that you can and the rest will follow.

Don’t let your dreams be dreams — make things possible. Know that the imperfections in you and in your life is what actually makes your life perfect. Never stop laughing, but most of all, never stop caring.

They say "Follow your heart" but what I think they really mean, is that you should put your all and your entire heart into everything that you do. Like the big man, Sizzla said, "Yes, you’ve got to be strong. And be all the best that you can. The world is out there, conquer your fears. And don’t you wait too long."

Thank you all for listening. Maybe I might see some of you down here soon . . . Maybe.

Love Always,

ROSHINDER