A thought of gratitude might be in place …
Sometimes I think life sucks, yes, true, I really do. Life is a bitch. When I sit there alone on my balcony and look out into the empty air and I’ve had a crap day, with many setbacks and difficulties to handle, I think just that, life is a bitch.
At this moment, I sometimes remember that there are people out there who have or have had it worse and come back. This is a little history about such a thing. When I think of it, everything I think and feel about my own situation become rather trivial and small. This is what’s reported:
“A woman in the middle of her twenties, tell the reporter that she was recently been gang raped, and with it also found that she was pregnant. She was out to have fun this evening along with some girlfriends to her. She was approached by a few men who later invited her for a drink with drugs so she lost control completely. These men then took her and violated her and she does not remember all the men who raped her, but she decided to keep the baby after making the control that she was healthy, no disease transmitted, and that she would give birth to the child. Well, she knows that it doesn’t pay to find out who raped her and made her pregnant, we’re talking about East Africa, and believes her surviving is blessing enough, she will just bite the bullet and move on. The story is also about her earlier younger years, when she half-married off by her aunt for money, but she stould up and refused this. That in itself means that she was banned from her family, which also proves to be an understatement, because she was abandoned as a child by her mother. She was and still is an outcast, but has studied, graduated and have a job. Suddenly the family turns to her and ask her to contribute to this and that. For God’s sake, she has a job. Ultimately, she asks them respectfully to go to hell because she will soon have a child to consider. She gives birth to the child, a son, and continues to struggle as a single mother, with all that implies with this hard commitment. She changes her apartment to a smaller one, just to afford to feed and raise her son. She works continuously with her day job; she is struggling with problems to get a “nanny” to care for the child during her working hours. She can barely handle this but, then the next thing happens. The worst rainfall affects Nairobi and floods are part of everyday life for a week or so. In Nairobi! This means that the electricity is knocked out occasionally and that in itself means that the house she lives catches fire, due to some short cuts. She wakes up in a puff of smoke, her son injured by the fumes, everything she owns has burned up and she had to go to the hospital to see how it goes with the boy. He has burns of the worst kind, but what is worse, he has inhaled so much smoke and smoulder that his lungs have difficulty coping with what it means to deliver oxygen to the blood and keep the system alive. She watches him sitting by his bed day and night. He almost dies countless of times due to the lung almost collapsed, they have internal bleeding. She does not eat, she does not sleep, the tears have run out, she is just watching, praying and hoping that her son will survive, the son which is the fruit of a heinous crime that has not been and will not be notified, because it does not matter here. “I love him, I miss him.” After weeks of vigil, sleepless nights, she is finally told that he will be fine. Then comes the next challenge, where will she stay, how will she arrange good conditions for herself and her son. Destitute, she stands there, barely enough money for the hospital bill and can only do her best. She stays with a friend for a while, get some help from the company she works for and eventually finds a home for herself and her son. She starts from the beginning, again, acquiring a mattress and small things she needs for her every day doings, slowly but surely, she comes back, step by step. The story ends with the picture of her with the son on her back, standing outside watching a small plot of land that she just bought and where she will build their own house. She is just back from the Shamba, where she planted spinach to sell later, this in addition to her regular job in order to make some extra money. How does she manage all this wonders the reporter? Her response to this is: “Its life. I’ll have to cope. “
This is a true story, and when I think of it, I see that I am privileged and should probably not whine and dwell so much. There and then sitting on my balcony, I give life a thought of gratitude. This day, this life. Do what you can, and remember that there is probably someone out there who is worse off than you.