Friday, January 23, 2009

Uganda.

I watched a documentary recently called War Dance. It is about children in Northern Uganda who attend a refugee camp school and are selected to participate in the National music and dance competition. All these children. Children of war. Many orphans. All scarred beyond my imagination. And that is why, I think, I can be concerned with such petty shit. I have no idea. I have never been forced to kill anyone, or identify my parents by their severed heads, in a pot of many severed heads being lifted out one by one.
I don't want to complain about my life. anymore. I don't want to live the way I have been living, with comfortable excuses and always something to fall back on...a plush life of perceived entitlement. Of course, I will. Becuase I don't live in Uganda, I don't live in a war zone. And although I've been through some tough times mentally, emotionally, they are laughable and pitiful in the face of these children's troubles.
This film put life into great perspective for me and I'm thankful for that.
We do not have war here...we also do not have dancing. Community dancing and singing. Not as a lesson, or a goal for improvement, or a cultural experience. We do not come together as a people and dance and sing. Two such basic, natural past times.
I think we're missing a lot of that. And in a way are at war with ourselves and the walls we build and the limitations we set. Silent war at each other for not being able to accept one another whole heartedly.
I dunno.
Peace.

2 comments:

crazymumma said...

This is why I respect and like you so much. you think, you ponder you question.

not-so suburban momma said...

we all watched that movie as a family before the holidays and it stayed in that same kind of way. There is no point of reference for us.