War Wounds: A Final Blog from the Edge

Time in the field allows the mind space to observe and create.
More like jazz than logic.
The pen knows what it wants to say...

The agony that is Padang can be found not in the lingering scent of human corruption,
nor in the crooked, bent and sagging walls,
but in the sight of a limping cat, making its way through the traffic and the rain.

Nimble.
Resourceful.
Fatalistic.

The Indonesian people rebuild...brick by bloody brick.
Moving on.
On their own, like that cat.
Beat up as a way of life. They expect nothing. Have only their backbones to lean on.
They move on.
_____________________________

The problem is the false premise that organisms care about each other.
Care is the ultimate luxury.
That is why the wealthy do not embrace the concept.
They don't get it.
They take it. They enjoy it. They even sell it. But they never give it.
Giving is weak. A type of death.
Care as a luxury. Only to be doled out in miserly portions...and only when easily affordable.

All men are created equal?
Not a chance.

And yet they move on.

_____________________________

The heavens have opened.
A battering rain--cleansing and troublesome.
Though it keeps the dust down, it soaks the precarious cement of
the rubble-strewn city, causing cave-in's even at this late date.

Ten pounds lighter, having just survived a bout with Dengue fever,
my thoughts swirl as I slowly regain my strength...heartbeat by heartbeat.

The Equator.
The white man's graveyard.

The hospital experience will not soon be forgotten.
Slipping in and out of consciousness.
At one point waking to a priest and acolytes praying over me.
Platelets down to 60.
One step from a coma.
A midnight ghost at the foot of my bed calling me to join him.
It took all I had to lift my phone and snap off a quick photo before passing out once again.

The unexplained is all around here.

_____________________________

Our most recent mission was into the jungle of Pariaman.
Tony Litwak, David Lupo and Patra of Kogami leading the way,
finding small enclaves of need. With Dengue setting in, I could barely help as David, Tony and Patra dug in and built shelters for a number of families, and one memorable old man.

Tonight's rain fills me with pride for my hardworking friends.
Where there were people bundled in the rain-drenched jungle,
now a cooking fire, warmth, dry blankets and the laughter of children.

It isn't all grim.

We even had a chance to take a group of female workers
out onto the sea aboard the Mikumba, where we taught
them how to swim, enjoy and respect the ocean, so that the sea
not only represents some dark mystery full of demons and tsunamis,
but contains joy...a life giving joy.
A resource.
A wilderness.
An adventure at the front door.
A beauty.

_____________________________

Thank you for all your support.
It went straight to the people.
Simple comfort.
A dry, warm place to sleep and rebuild.
And all of it from halfway around the world.
Brought here to be carried the Last Mile.
This is the best work in the world.
Mankind at its best.

And what of fevers, weight loss, mosquitoes, nightmares,
ghosts and personal suffering?

Nothing more than a simple, exacted price.
Wounds to be proud of.
War wounds.

~MG
Padang, West Sumatra
2009