Traumatized

We are still in trauma. We are still reeling from it all, especially:

The sudden death in the family.

The shock of sudden loss of properties for which we worked so hard for years, properties that would be very hard to replace in a Third World economy.

The regret -- the pain of parting with cherished things, things with sentimental value.

The shock of facing imminent death, sudden death, ugly death by drowing in the murky waters.

The shock of cold, hunger, thirst.

The loneliness of being alone, marooned and isolated from the rest of the world.

The survivor's guilt, the shame of not being able to do anything to help family, friends.

The helplessness.

The need to make sense of it all, whether we are being punished by God, whether we have brought all this to ourselves, whether our leaders have a major part in the problem.

The fear of steadily strong rain, now and in the future.

The phobia, too, of waters gushing, engulfing us fast.

The fear of uncertainty.

The frustration over the pace of rescue operations and local government's helplessness, the fact that we can't seem to get our acts together.

The sad parade of victims crying for help, the media blare of which threatens to become a drone and tempts donors with compassion fatigue.

The shame or embarassment of being a victim that may be felt by some -- or the envy for those who emerged unscathed.

**

It's a time to grieve the dead, the victims, and their losses.

It's a time to face the unbearable reality.

It's also a time to steel ourselves and remind us that nobody wanted this to happen. It was an unusual rain falling on overcemented and choked land.

It's also a great opportunity to love and serve and show concern, to be a hero.

It's a time to be encouraged by stories about people who stood up and made us believe in humanity again.

It's also a time to consider our ways of life that are self-destructive.

For all of us, there are many great lessons in this, The Great Flood.

(Updated 10.9.09)