Which continent, exactly?

This blog's title isn't in reference to actual continents (I've now been to four), but is rather drawn from "The Third and Final Continent," a stunning short story by Jhumpa Lahiri, from her collection, The Interpreter of Maladies. In particular, I'm inspired by the following quote that summarizes the attitude I try to carry with me through life and on my travels

I am not the only person to seek his fortune far from home, and certainly I am not the first. Still there are times I am bewildered by each mile I have traveled, each meal I have eaten, each person I have known, each room in which I have slept. As ordinary as it all appears, there are times when it is beyond my imagination.

I love this. It calls on us to consider the tiny details of our experiences, both one-by-one, and in the aggregate, and to maintain a sense of wonder even about the seemingly mundane things that are the building blocks of our lives, and often, the glue that binds us to our traveling companions.

This blog began as a chronicle of my study abroad experience in Cairo in Spring 2008, and continued last year while volunteering in Geneva, and South Sudan with a wonderful organization, VIDES.

Now in graduate school, I'm returning to the Continent this summer while interning in New Delhi, India.

Please enjoy, inquire, and learn.

Saturday, May 11, 2013

Laura the Humanitarian


I have continued to make a visible impact by physically moving things from one place to another, this time with donated medicines from a German organization.  I got to see what it would be like to do disaster relief work, with the delightful mix of hot weather, tedious work and a warm fuzzy feeling inside. We were dividing the medicines into 4, for the 4 Salesian dispensaries in South Sudan. . . Juba, Maridi, Tonj and Wau.

Medicines for all kinds of ailments, especially malaria (mosquitoes suck).  Divided into exactly four.  Among my “deep” reflections during the process of doing the mental math and the work to break up everything evenly, was that socialism is exhausting.

I didn’t actually save a life or make anyone well.  I will leave that to the doctors, nurses, and people actually responsible enough to use syringes and such things.  But sorting, organizing and moving several hundred pounds of things that save lives felt like pretty good Karma.  Or, a barely noticeable step towards, as I tell the sisters, (mostly) in jest, “atoning for the sins of my country.”


1 comment:

Unknown said...

Laura, It's an arbitrary world out there that is sometimes blind to flexibility and common sense. You look so happy!
Love, Dad