The Fourth of July
It's the Fourth of July, US independence day. It's big deal here in the US. American's don't really need an excuse to wave the flag, but it is also a public holiday, and it is just wonderful to have a day off from classes, after all weekend was spent writing the end of term papers. There's still reading to be done for class tomorrow, but I was able to go and do some of it in a hammock. I also appreciated the irony of the organist who played God Save the Queen before Mass. I don't think many people noticed...
I'm looking forward to the fireworks tonight, which unlike Sydney's NYE show I just wandered down to last year and I stood closer to any fireworks I've ever seen before, feeling the percussion of each firework go off.
I've been inviting my classmates to come watch the display with tonight, but a couple of my classmates from Africa told me they don't like fireworks. Why not? Because the sound reminds them of gunfire from back home, one from the civil war in Uganda (remember Joseph Kony and the Lord's Resistance Army?) and one from Boko Haram's more recent attacks in Nigeria.
It struck me what an insular and safe life I have led when I hear about their experiences. What was just a news report to me was their childhood, and still their nighmares.
Another news report brought this home to me recently. A petrol tanker crashed on a highway in Pakistan. Hundreds of people ran to the scene to scoop up the spilled petrol. Someone lit a cigarette. 150 people were killed in the explosion, with many more injured. People ran into danger for the chance of a can of fuel. If a tanker crashed at home we'd all pull back, wait for hazmat to arrive, and then whinge about our travel being delayed. But life is so fragile, and people so poor in rural Pakistan and so many places throughout the world that people will take such risks that you and I would never imagine.
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