The land of my youth, my "home" (or as close to one as I can put my finger on), is on the brink of political upheaval. Not revolution, I think the Senegalese people are too sensible for that, but you can only withstand injustice for so long before even the most sensible of us snaps and starts throwing rocks.
I see all my peers posting their prayers for Senegal, I hear the updates of, "Demonstrations downtown. Our neighborhood is quiet, for now," and I don't know how to respond. How I'm supposed to feel.
Certainly I'm concerned for the well-being of family and friends, and the well-being of the Senegalese people on principle, but for some reason their plight finds no emotional purchase in my conscience. Is it because I've been desensitized by images of bloodied corpses in Benghazi, or sobering death tolls in Cairo and Damascus?
But even still, this is my homeland; why don't the reports of tear gas and dead protesters still up anything more than mild concern? Today I found myself idly browsing flight times and prices to Dakar, and brushing up on photojournalist protocol.
But that's not gonna happen.
I think.
No comments:
Post a Comment