When all they face is "this"...

"I now know why some people get bitter after being here..." Belinda said.
"I don't know how the people ( Afghan) here do it. How do they even manage to get up every day when all they face is this?"

Belinda called this morning. It is a really hard day for her, physically, emotionally and spiritually. The "this" that she refers to is the grinding poverty, pain and suffering of the locals that overwhelms the capabilities and resources of their small post.

A month ago they had extreme heat with cold nights. The cold has gone, taking with it the little relief it brought...now it is torrid, blistering heat. The children coming to her post no longer want a small toy or candy- they are barefoot, their feet cracked and bleeding from the broiling ground. They cry and beg for sandals.

The children approaching her farm the land around the post from sunrise to sunset, there is no relief for them, they will walk this scorching soil for the entire length of their days. She feels helpless, angry and frustrated that something so small as a pair of shoes could do so much for someone, yet she does not have the one thing that could bring them some relief.

They ask for water. The Canadians give them what they can. One little boy stands patiently and politely waiting his turn. Belinda offers him the water, and spying the little boy's dad off in the distance bent over and toiling hard, farming in the blistering heat , she offers him a second water and an orange for them to share.
I can hear it in her voice, the anger, the helplessness ...I remind her that her just being there brings change and good to someone's life, even in a moment as small as to offer a thirsty little boy and his father some water.

She feels a boiling rage building in her that she can do so little to help so much suffering. The soldiers all find different ways to cope with seeing so much misery. Some bottle it in, or try to act indifferent, some - like Belinda, rage...

The TV news does not even come close to showing the scope of just what the people there endure. She said the only thing remotely accurate is scenes portrayed in the recent Afghan movie "Kiterunner". She gets a lump in her throat now when she sees little boys and girls done up in make-up, for now she knows what that means. It is not just little kids playing dress up... Where you find extreme poverty, you find sexual exploitation, children are sometimes used for bartering, for survival... Afghanistan, Darfur, Thailand...even here on our North American soil, it is always the youngest and weakest that will pay the biggest price. And those intending harm will exploit every means possible. She is sickened to realize just how many of these children have probably been raped, many repeatedly, at some point in their short lives...

A little girl of 6 or 7 toting a tiny baby. Belinda communicates through the interpreter. The little girl is looking after her infant brother while mom works. They walk the deadly roadway in the blistering heat, where the IED's are found daily and destroyed by the Canadians, but they are just as quickly re-planted in the cover of night by those intending harm. She is upset that these two innocents are walking the roadway in the face of such hazards- but that is the day in the life of a child in Afghanistan.

Belinda is my baby in the midst of all of this suffering and chaos. She is my baby on the hazardous roads there... and all I can do is listen to her experiences and offer whatever verbal comfort that I can, and honor and share the truth of what she sees and feels here.
I share something universal with the mothers of Afghanistan. We all want our babies to be okay...