Bush? Kerry? Ivan? Who's the Most Important?

Just read today's paper. The front page had an article about the rapes that occur in the Darfur region of Sudan. The rebels raid villages and pillage, rape, burn, kill. The worst part is that they rape teenaged girls, and rape is such a big stigma in the society. In the eyes of the people of Sudan, rape makes these women not victims but sinners, and they carry that stigma for life. The children the rebels beget onto them are marked to be ostracized, even before birth.

The act of rape alone is devastating enough -- it breaks my heart to hear that these wretched girls will find no solace even from their family.

As young as 12, 13 year olds are raped, pregnant, shunned, starving, dying -- and it is our fault. It is our fault for not being able to prioritize. We would much rather hear about which governor resigned because he is gay. We would much rather hear what Dick Cheney said about Kerry. We would much rather hear about Mary-Kate's progress through anorexia. We would rather hear about why we should let people by uzi's and AK-47's and (insert name of scary weapon) and whatnot. We would rather hear about the date Martha will start serving her sentence. We would rather hear the superficial news of the surface. Not to discredit any of these issues as not being newsworthy -- but how many times did we hear the same thing about Martha's trial? What she wore to court each day? How many drops of tears she shed? Martha's a media mogul. She's important, no doubt. But we are being negligent of the important things that are happening to so many lives! The HIV/AIDS epidemic is spreading rapidly through India -- it will be the next South Africa. People will suffer and die, ignorant of how they came down with their fatalities; economies will collapse; hundreds of thousands of babies will be orphaned.

In Sudan, these girls will not get an education. They will be made outsiders of their villages, shunned by family and friends. They will not receive the means to support themselves. All the while the rebels are pillaging through the country, sucking life dry and replenishing it with a surplus of fear.

Even on the home front, things aren't peachy. Our boys, just shy of the drinking age will get shot or bombed by suicide bombers. Or worse, they will return crippled, decrepit old men, aged well beyond their years, with darkened pupils filled with inexpicable sorrow. And we try to rationalize this very inexplicable sorrow with empty heroes -- what was the phrase? "I am an American soldier too." Something like that. Repeated, over. And over. And over. And over. Until it is etched, engraved deeply in each American's heart, so that not only are we brainwashed, but our hearts are washed out. Oh what a brave girl that private Lynch is. We should send more troops -- go get those bastards! And pretty soon, even Lynch herself will realize that she is forgotten, long forgotten, employed as propaganda, fooled by her brief, all too brief fame that she has done something worth-while. She is already long forgotten, and yet the same war is still in progress. Who are we kidding? We fool only ourselves.

We can afford to fool ourselves. It is our luxury as Americans. We can afford to relax and talk about issues and pretend they matter, because death isn't getting rammed down our throats daily. Because it's not us who went down with the World Trade Centers. It's not us that's being held prisoner of war, without any contact with the outside world. It is not us that we are bombing. It is not us inflicted with disease leaving us as vulnerable as candles in the wind. We are not getting raped, we are not shot in the stomach and left bleeding to die. We don't have to watch our 13-year-old daughter give birth nine months after surviving r a p e. Not our problem.

Not our problem? It is our problem. They may speak different languages. They may have darker or lighter skin, wear different clothing. They have different customs and culture. They don't have a laptop or an iPod. They don't have Taco Bell. But they are our brothers. The rebels. The victims. The patients. The soldiers. Bush. Kerry. They are our brothers and sisters. They are our family, because we as a whole, make up the human race. We make up one species. I am not humankind by myself. I am humankind by being with you and you, and him, and her, and them. I am a human being because they co-exist with me, and breathe the same air that I do. By allowing them to perish -- I am condemning myself with the same curse, the same fate. Only by supporting a life, saving a life, can I save my own; I am their savior, and they are mine. You are their savior, and they are yours.