It’s a sad thing that I’ve been in Congo for almost 6 weeks now, and I’m just starting to hit my stride here. I think the language barrier has been a huge part of that slow progression. The French is getting better, though. At the start of the trip it was painful to speak or listen to French. In fact, I’d walk away completely exhausted, almost dreading the thought of speaking or comprehending the language for another day.
Thankfully that’s changed. While my French still needs A LOT of improvement, I’m able to engage in simple conversation and understand most people with relative ease. It still takes a lot of brainpower, but it’s no longer excruciating or exhausting for me. I consider that a success. While that is a breakthrough in and of itself, it’s not really the topic of my post today.
As many of you know, this trip has been somewhat closed emotionally for me. I’ve hinted at it before. I’m actually in this phase of my life where I’ve been cut off from a lot of my emotions. I’ve depended heavily on the rational/logical side of my character to get me through some tough things that have happened this last year. And even though this is my third time in Africa in the last 12 months, those experiences have played their part in shutting me down, as well.
I think God has provided many opportunities for me to “reconnect.” However, a part of me has enjoyed being able to just turn them off. It’s a little empowering to not give whim to every emotional pull you have. Makes you feel in control, or at least that’s what I’ve feebly convinced myself of. You’re not buying it are you? Well, I’m not either, not anymore at least. The fact is I’ve forgotten how to turn them back on… my emotions that is. I have some friends who’ve unfortunately experienced this side of me. After the fallout they always say, “Well at least you recognize it and are aware of it.” It’s the first step right?
Well, I’m tired of first steps- they don’t really lead anywhere. Well, at least not for a long time. I feel like I’ve been sitting on this first step, a cigarette in one hand and the other scratching my head wondering why I’m sitting on a step (I’m not a smoker by the way, but I do like the visual- adds to the whole “I’m tougher than dirt” motto). I guess when your sitting you can’t really be moving- which is probably my first problem.
I say all this because I guess I finally found a reason to stand up, or at least to stop scratching my head. Today we celebrated “Journée Internationale de la Femme”- the International Day of Women. I really like how the French language constructs things. It’s not a day for women; it’s a day of women- sounds more empowering I guess. The day-long event was a great celebration. I’ll write a post about it later, with some good photos I got from the event.
Anyway, there was this young man there who had spent, what looked like days and days, on constructing a wooden camcorder- including a hat and a pair of ubber-stylish glasses (he had to capture the full filmmaker fashion style, en-vogue). You could tell that he meticulously put everything together. He was going for a perfect replica. He had a speaker, a lense, a viewport, and even a flip-out screen. I mean seriously folks, this guy’s got fierce talent. It was very entertaining. We had a fun time shooting each other with our cameras. You could tell he was enjoying it too.
You’d expect a kid to get up there, pretend to film for awhile, and eventually move on to something else. Well, we were there for 5 hours and this kid kept shooting. He’d get right in front of the crowds and weave through the parade to get the perfect shot. One would think, that after all this work, he would realize it was all just pretend and he would be left with no real footage from the event. However, this reality did not seem to deter him. This kid had so much joy looking through that viewport, setting up a shot and getting all the action. He smiled the whole time, all 5 hours we were there.
After the initial fascination and pure enjoyment of seeing this kid get so wrapped up in what he was doing, I started to think about what passion he had. This kid was probably 12 years old. Who knows how long he spent building that camera, just so he could pretend to shoot this whole event: Journée Internationale de la Femme. I mean this is the passion that filmmakers are made of. What an amazing and unique perspective he would have as a filmmaker. His passion would take him far in a place like America or Europe.
That’s when it hit me- he would never be a filmmaker. Filmmaking will always be a fantasy to him, something he can only go to in his dreams. In America, a passion like this would be picked up on immediately, and it would be encouraged or stimulated. Here it will always be a child’s game. It will always be that silly boy with the toy camera.
The complete and utter injustice of the moment hit me in the pit of my stomach. This kid would never realize his dream. It will be forever locked in a photograph, floating through the web somewhere. That feeling that coursed through my body over the disparity of that moment is still here. A day later it still has not left me.
My moment of reconnecting with my emotions has come at the cost of a young man’s dream. It’s hard to truly feel the vindication of a breakthrough when you know that others will never have an opportunity to experience what they were meant for. It makes me angry, and sad.
Sometimes I hate being so fortunate. I feel like I need to honor those with less by being thankful for what I do have, and I do. But a part of me still feels anger for my fortune. Like why do I deserve it and this kid doesn’t? And how can that be a pure product of geography? Why am I unable to do anything for this kid? I feel utterly helpless. I wish I could just drop Steven Spielberg a line and be like “Yo, Homey, help a brotha out! Give this kid a scholarship to a film university.”
I ask God these same questions. And I don’t get any answers. I feel injustice often has few answers, if any. Maybe it’s the tension of these unanswered questions that actually gets people to stand up and do something. Maybe it forces us into action. Yet I’m still left with little direction on what I can do. It just doesn’t make sense to me, and it doesn’t add up. I’m not sure it ever will…
So, I ask you these questions, as well. What will you do with them?
No comments yet.. strange.
Nicely written.
The first picture of the boy struck me as well.
Well, at least you probably made him feel like a star for that moment..
Posted by: Mees | June 17, 2009 at 02:22 AM