My personal defeat

I have left one home for another. My homes are miles and miles apart, even worlds apart. I’ve left my Indian family, friends and home behind and returned to my ‘real’ home, Århus, Denmark. At this particular time, I’m sitting at my dining table, eating salty Danish liquorice and listening to Dave Matthews. Since I got here, I haven’t been able to tap into everything that happened towards the end of my Indian experience. Something in me has shut down and put it away. I haven’t even called and I feel guilty.

My guilt is momentarily overtaken by passion when The Doctor (aka Jesper) says he’s been thinking about how many desolate places in the world no one has ever seen, how many destitute peoples are balancing on the brim of existence, merely noticed by the few – purposefully or habitually ignored by the many. I have been to one of those places. I can put them on the map, I know their names, their fates – I can tell stories about them, I can let you be a part of them. I already have, involuntarily, in the hotel, the bar, the restaurant – any place where there’s people who haven’t met them, I struggle to shut up and always lose.

I want to tell their story in a dignified manner. It is my mission within the next couple of weeks. Putting these people, my friends into words, making something of them other than dry statistics and a rarely talked about nuisance. I know the idealist in me comes out in full bloom while I’m writing this. And I’m glad. Proud actually. I went, I saw – and I still believe. I still have hopes and dreams and ways to better the lives of someone else. I want to, or more accurately need to, honor the memory of all ‘my’ children, my pupils, friends and fellow humans. I just can’t seem to find the words yet…