Really, it’s just as well I’m put in the position to defend myself on this point, as it brings up so many of the paradoxes of living here that have been on my mind and heart—yes, I do have a heart—since I’ve been here. I’ve struggled to get it right in writing, and it’s difficult to articulate. I’ll be trying as I have time and brains, to explain it to you. It will certainly take a few days, as even after months, I haven’t got it right even for myself.
It’s actually true, everything Andy said, but (vote of confidence noted, Alisa), there is another side to the story. The awkward thing about this is that everythign I say now is going to sound like some kind of defensive explanation, so I’m going to try really hard to turn it into explanations of what it’s like to be here.
I guess I’ll start here:
Economic disparity is the first thing I noticed when we arrived, and it hits you like a wall of smoke as soon as you get off the airplane. Fellow humans in rags, dirty, skinny, stunted from years of not enough calories. Fellow humans with feet flattened and hardened from walking everywhere barefoot. Our weight limit on the airplane had been minimal, considering it was in 6 suitcases that we carried our household here. But the weight I felt stepping off the plane, the burden on my conscience of my wealth—it was much more than whatever we’d payed for in extra baggage.
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Just to clarify: My original "Ouch" was not limited to the difficulty of Andy's story, but also included the telling of the story. Anyway, I subscribe to the Life is Messy view of things, and I believe in you. I'm interested in hearing your "side," though not for the sake of defense. For me, it's a given there are more ways than one to receive a story. Do tell. There's so much to be said.
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