Tuesday, February 07, 2006

Prayers to the Poor & Dear Departed

JOIN ME and thousands in few minutes of prayer and mourning to the dead of adeadly stampede in Manila. There's no word articulate and profound enough to describe the sorrow and the agony--especially that I know and I feel why did these poor people had to be there, lined up before a TV game show, hoping for some cash and kind. They took vigil in their roughshod collectively-rented jeepneys all night, some walked grimy streets, dined on hot noodles--all hoping to get in the stadium first, closer to the prize, closer to little prizes that are basically spare change in America.

It's poverty, untimigated poverty. When poor people have no visible hope other than a lotto winning, a chance at a TV game show, a day's meager dream--that's all they got. They had to hope, they had to take a chance --in turn, they lost their lives.

This misery back home, the impoverishment, the huge gap between the rich and the poor, in poor countries that I saw and witnessed as I traversed the comfortable streets of America is the bleeding humanity that makes me survive my remaining life on earth. They hurt so they make me live longer because they make me want to heal.

Somewhere people suffer, somewhere people dont care whether they are fed with rotten fish or bad spam meat, dogs or crickets, canned goods discarded by the western world--as long as they're fed. Somewhere where a Bill Gates sweatshop is good job enough to secure a roof over the heads of a family of four, somewhere where entry to corporate infrastructures in the mold of Wal-Mart is like entry to "heaven," somewhere where survival is the day in the life...

That is the world that I know, and the spirit that makes me wake up... always awake.

I say my prayers... blessed are the poor.



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