SOCIETY SOCIETAS INTERDEPENDANT ON ONE AND OTHER DEFINITION
Its easy here to slip into a bubble, here I mean the World, of things we know happen and yet ignore as we never experience anything like it.
Driving upcountry we were to begin experiencing life as the majority of the Worlds population does a horrible accident upcountry, where the victims where thrown out of a speeding canter lorry into a bank like small cartoon men flying with the fragility of life so clearly suddenly exposed in doll like manner, limp as the cliff loomed, the wheels spun the lorry small side clashed with the almighty natural wall of rock, black water containers flew strangely in sow motion making the flying men even more fragile. Time is suspended slowed down.
Where I was sure they would be dead. As I covered my sons eyes and screamed for my Husband to stop driving. He is in shock but the car is already stationary. There is such a feeling of stillness. the World suddenly seems so vast three cars an open road and land swallowing us showing us nature is still the supreme boss.
We shouted hospitali? Hospitali?
Two hardworking true Kenyans ( representative of Kenya's base pyramid of wealth , the majority and what of the world's wealth pyramid? ) clambered bleeding shaking and wet into the car.
I feed them small sweet bananas. Opened mouths like children. Blood pours my son cries softly.
I wish our borrowed landrover had wings.
I bug my Husband with questions of how far, the barren drought ridden countryside with its red soil and sand seems to stretch forever.
"Boss" the beautiful bleeding man says. First duty in Kenya. Keep the job inform the boss,and so we took them to meet a strange group, from outside the country, who stared with impassive faces of stone.
"Its so wierd in there," my husband says " a whole camp of these people in the middle of Africa, and they ask nothing not how is the driver, (left behind)."
Finally we pull into a hospital, a small block with waiting mothers and children.
Dramatically we limp in, blood pouring from rubber tired shoes (and not the designer ones ) the men shake.
The clinical officer a woman, of sorts, stares impassively.
My World bursts. Women who have waited in the queue brush past us into the cramped room.
I am spoilt.
I am used to my World of high class hospitals. Where Road accidents mean running with morphine and at the least glucose.
I gaze at their faces the resigned faces. Polite and I know instantly that they have waited too long, they are hungry, yet have come far for their children.
My heart bleeds as does a gash on one of the victim's faces. Beautiful face with a gaping hole.
The people in the clinic smile at me as I dance in impatience outside as women kindly help the men was a little while my Husband and they talk.
" Glucose, glucose or something a painkiller." I mutter.
Off my husband goes proud elegant dutiful to report the incident.
He is again greeted with impassive glares from the police. Who finally inform him he has "done your duty go now. Bring them."
My Husband his face so recently compared to Obamas by a group of women as we wait, though in tough terms as they didn't understand our visit to inform the boss deep in their village, just a big landrover full of whites two men they can't see and a " who does he think he is this one Obama?"
They soften with cries of sorry when they realize our mission.
He tells me we must leave money or they won't be treated, it is all we can do telling the men who are still weaving like palm leaves, dripping with water and clearly distraught. He tells them firmly not to give the money to the police.
They take our number if they have to go to court it will be us against them ( the foreigners ) they implore my Husband.
They have never called.
But I am forever changed. We know people have it hard but until you witness this you can never understand the depth of mans inhumanity to man. The greed, houses cars holidays built of others drugs, education, food, blood even.
and then I think that this is society in the World, pages and pages how many trees needed for water as half the World suffers taken up with the joyous promotion of mass consumption, handbags for example made of others dieing and we applaud this BUY INTO THE CULTURE and even those we applaud become confused I note at why them? Who do we really admire a list of five people we really truly admire should be written and considered ;
CELEBRITY CULTURE , why do we promote this it is built on death.