I have been wanting to write for the last many weeks. I could not write. A lot has happened in these few weeks. The world of thousands if not millions has changed. This includes me.
I live a busy life trying to earn as much money as can give me a comfortable life now. If I live long enough to be old and frail can pay my health bills too. Yet I do want to do something for people affected by devastation, disease and death.
A huge part of me would like to personally help these people in their education and employment but I cannot. Maybe some day I can but for now the least I can do for the people devastated by natural and human catastrophes is to send them money.
I hope that my money would make some difference to them. It would fill their stomachs for few days. It would bandage a few wounds. It would give books to few children. Maybe summer will become a bit bearable with a well of water.
I lived with these thoughts a life fairly purposeful. I sincerely believed that my money was being spent on the suffering of the poorest of the people. And I trusted the people who had my money to be civilised to the people who had nothing but hope in them.
And I was wrong and my friends skeptical of charities were right. How and why did it happen? How could those who were to be deliverers of hope be messengers of despair. How could they snatch the faith of hopeless people.
Was it lust? Or was it the assertion of power? Or was it the oppression of oppressed?
Whatever it was, faith of people like me is gone. We are reluctant to trust charities with our money. Who is the loser? Those who always lose. The most devastated, oppressed and suppressed people of the world.
And it should not happen. Syria is sad. Myanmar is misery. The sub zero temperatures in Europe are deadly.
These people need help. And they need our money. So in that hope I will still give money to charities. Maybe I should not but if I do not, what hope do I have of bringing any hope to people unknown to the word hope.
Am I right?