Think Fast

Hey, so I haven't written in forever I know. This week has been hectic. You know, the week before Spring Break, teachers are all a-frenzie, tossing homework and projects at their students like monkeys flinging poo.


Good image. Moving on.

This week, as we all know, was St. Patrick’s day. This day always pisses me off. Like, I have total respect for the original meaning of the day. You know, the snakes fleeing Ireland and all that. But now - obviously - on this day people must wear the color green. This makes complete sense. (?)

Personally, I think that the only reason this 'holiday' is celebrated by students just for an excuse to injure their peers. See, if you don't wear green, you basically get attacked and pinched and bruised by the end of the day. And this is accepted as fine. Am I bitter? Slightly.

Anyway, every year, at my godmother's house, we have a St. Patrick's Day party. Cool down, it's okay. Their actually Irish. My sister and I are usually the only younglings there and the party mostly consisted of adults that were vaguely familiar to me from past parties my godmother had. They're all nice and the conversation can get quite interesting.

There was one man there, my godmother's older brother, who was particularly intriguing. He spoke of his travels to Africa. Ohhhhh my God.

Random Fact About Sophia: I really, REALLY want to go to Africa. To the dismay of my parents.

Anyway, this guy was talking about how he went to Kenya on this all-inclusive trip. He described how beautiful his hotel had been, and the animals had been fantastic.

"But," he added, the smile slipping off his face, his eyes unfocusing as he remembered, "as we exited the hotel and glimpsed what was happening on the streets, it was like someone had flipped on a switch." He described the extreme poverty and children struggling to reach their next meal, let alone the end of the day.

The conversation ended there, as if because of that, my desire to travel there would abate as soon as I heard this. I didn't push the subject. Instead I checked out mentally for a while to think.

I am at a huge impasse when it comes to this. I react in very consistent way whenever I hear or see situations where people suffer. In Global Studies class last year, we would watch videos of Hiroshima, or slavery, or the Holocaust and how people were being mistreated, tortured, killed. Some people in the class detached themselves from the subject and were unaffected, some became very sad. Me? I became livid. Like, red face, hard breathing furious. I don't know why, but I felt an undeniable need to stop their pain. To go up to the monsters causing these people such suffering and punch them in the face. Forcibly make them pay for what they were doing. I would leave the classroom with my hands clenched in fists.

That was me watching a video.

What would I do if I was mere feet away from a starving child? A dying man? And worse...what would I do if I couldn't do anything to stop it? It's a sick feeling, a powerless feeling. And I hate it.

But then there is the 'other hand.' And it is not even an option. The other hand, is to ignore it all together. To keep it out of sight and out of mind in ignorant bliss. I feel like this is the ultimate form of cowardice. To pretend that nothing is happening so I can carry on living my little life without any problems other than my next Chemistry test.

The ‘other hand’ is sickening. But it is also a frighteningly accurate description of some people view in the world.

And yet, as many people are quick to point out, what am I going to do about it? Me. The powerless little 16 year old who sits on my thrown of comfort and criticizes how people treat others. "What can you do to make a difference, Sophia?"

What do you say to that? As children, we dream of becoming astronauts or inventors or heroes that save the world. But as we grow older, more and more dreams we had as children prove themselves to be false. First, Santa doesn't exist. The tooth fairy isn’t actually real either. Then you find out that you didn't actually come from a Stork like you thought you did. But then it gets more serious. You learn that not everyone is kind. People kill other people. The good guy doesn't always come out of the battle alive. And there are millions upon millions of people dying everyday from things that seem trivial to us. Things like water and food and shelter.

And...I can do nothing.

And I'm not saying that I can literally do nothing. Sure, I can save my pennies and sent it to Africa or Haiti. And I will make my little difference. And that is good and helpful and everyone should do it. It is possible to help other people. But I'm talking about fixing it. Everything. Stopping all of the stupid deaths and unnecessary pain that is inflicted on people everyday.

I have been staring at this screen for 10 minutes trying to think of something lighthearted and witty to say. Something that will cause you to smile and forget of this heavy and daunting subject. Count on me to help you out of this hole that I’ve dug with these words.

But I can't do that.

So instead I'll leave you with a thought. A question.

The world becomes darker and darker as we rise from our shelter of adolescence. If ignoring suffering is not an option, yet you are powerless to fix the whole problem and protect every man, woman, and child in need of aid, where does that put you? And how long do we have to ponder this question before all hope for saving these people is gone?




Better think fast.