In December 2000, David Agar left a refugee camp in Kenya after living there for 9 years, and came to America. He had fled war torn Sudan, trekking 8 months to escape Sudanese government soldiers according to an article in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette written by Steve Levin ("Lost Boy" from Sudan, who found himself in America, killed on Uptown Street, Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, 31 January 2006). 3 days ago, he died -- shot to death in an apparent robbery.
What a sad story. He had dreams -- "plans" as Levin writes. After enduring so much hardship, it seems so unfair. If anything, David Agar's story helps put into perspective our insignificant day-to-day complaining. See the entire story below...
http://www.post-gazette.com/pg/06031/646995.stm
The struggle for human rights continues worldwide on a daily basis. Whether it's a struggle to prevent starvation in Africa, assert one's civil rights in the United States, or avoid torture in Latin America or Asia because of one's political opinion, these are all issues for Hate, Hope and Human Rights
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2 comments:
Ironically, one of the Sundance Films to win an award, was the recent film about Sudanese "lost boys" called "God Grew Tired of Us", a story about the "lost boys of Sudan".
You know, I was walking in the mall last week and as I was walking by the escalator near Bonton's, I heard a group of 4 individuals looking at a spot on the floor, looking at the celing, pointing to the escalatory, and saying, "Oh, there's her hand print where she fell [from the ceiling]." For split second, I just kinda stuttered stepped and for a while (about 5 minutes), I thought about just how short and cold and uncaring life can be. Here I was surrounded by hundreds of people in the mall and no one knew that just a few days back a woman had fallen to her death in a spot people walk by everyday. I was reminded of the memory with the Sudanese story. I was reminded that even when we reflect, ponder, and feel how sad we are to realize that something like this happened, most of us don't really care or don't really know. Is it because if we knew everything we ourselves would be overloaded, burdened? Is it because we don't care or if we do, only for a few minutes? Like I did for for that woman who fell? I realized that I'll go through much of my life unaware of much of the world around me. And no, I'm not talking about the big "headline" stories or anything like that...but rather the stories of people who are unknown, unseen, and "un-remembered." Talk about sad...that's downright depressing for me.
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