Little tragedies

Little tragedies

I haven't written for a long time.
I got told by a friend I needed to stop writing depressing things and reflect on some happy times and I guess that kind of stopped me in my tracks. How can you talk about happy things when children are dying needlessly around me?

 I have been on a much needed holiday for 5 weeks, but leading up to that felt I was living in everyone's tragedy.

The difficulty of this though is, its not JUST a tragic story, or an anecdote, it's actually people's lives. 
Poverty, poor health, unloved children, violence against children and child deaths are a daily occurrence. Sometimes it is something I witness, other times its through relived stories that I'm told by others who have lived it. After awhile it becomes difficult to keep trying to make it OK in your head.. being a perpetual optimist is challenging.

How long can you keep living this life of tragedy? Is it hipocracy to be the 'western' person, who lives it for a short while, sympathizes, then happily takes her plump arse on the plane back to wealth, red wine and three meals a day? 

I guess being away made me face some truths.  People on my travels couldn't believe I had sacrificed 'my life' to 'help' people. They called me 'courageous' an 'angel' and thought I was a wondeful person. Interestingly, in some ways my work bought me closer to people who perhaps would have found me invisible.  But lovely though their praise was, i felt that the work i do has really nothing to do with me being an 'angel', i just did it because i have too.  No real motive to it. In fact I feel embarrassed when people praise me because I am merely a temporary visitor in other people's tragedies.  Their fight with life will go on regardless whether I'm there or not. A friend said "dont you ferl like you are losing an eternal battle?"  i answered it with, whether i am or not doesnt really matter, I'm lucky to be there in a moment to try and manipulate a small portion of these peoples daily battles,which will hopefully help.... sometimes/often it doesn't.   At least I try.

On the plane going home, after exploring all the pleasures of life, wonderful connections with people who will be friends for life, French kisses, amazing food, wine, culture, music, learning a new language, the architecture,  rejoicing in every minuscule moment of what the historic Paris is breathing out, tears well up in my eyes.  Not because I'm leaving my hedonistic ways behind, but I know the little 'tragedies' will be waiting for me when I get home. 

Is it that I'm soft, sensitive, am i more affected by the tragic stories than others or are they more immune?  Im not at all scared of heartbreak, ma couer knows how to put itself back together, after all it's  had plenty of practice.

Im wondering if Perhaps it's just that in true poverty you experience the 'real' life.  Tragedies are a part of this, but luckily in bolgatanga they partnership with real love, connections with people, true laughter and singing/dancing without restraint.  

An hour to go to touch down, I am going home to my family, to sing and dance, and the more I let my heart sing the more Ma couer can have the strength to face the tragedies.