I was watching Dispatches and tonight’s show was called Congo’s Forgotten Children. I was also keeping my motherly eye on my son who was outside in the dark, making a snowman.
I must say, the thoughts in my head were mixed. My healthy and fortunate boy was having the greatest time building his snow people. He was making a snowman and a snow woman so I gave him two carrots and four black grapes to use for eyes and noses. Two of the grapes got squashed so we found a couple of marbles to replace them and they looked even better. Anyway, me laddie was working so hard that he couldn’t feel the cold. I could barely manage twenty minutes out there with him before my fingers starting dying but my brave soldier (don’t ever tell him I called him that!) stuck it out and continued his project until it was complete.
Watching my boy playing and laughing in the snow then looking at the images of the children in Congo and the desperate suffering of the people there was just so utterly tragic that I don’t mind telling you, I was overwhelmed with sadness. The contrasts were stark and cruel. No-one could possibly fail to see the injustice of it all, the gross inequalities of this world that just needn’t exist. No, I refuse to believe that it has to be this bad . . .that it’s always been the way and always will be.
The Africa question comes and goes in the news. It’s a priority sometimes but then something else occurs in another part of the world and we forget about it. But it’s always going on. The humanitarian crisis hasn’t gone away. It’s as bad as it ever was and we should never give up trying to find solutions.