Bridges

The bridge next to the orphanage completely fell down because of the earthquake. This was a main connecting road, but now it is so quiet outside the gate and wall. There is no traffic, no walking or shouting or horns blowing. Just quiet. And at the bridge, people hae dumped their refuse, and now huge pigs feed on it. There's a man sifting through the garbage, rotting and smelly. Every now and then, he pulls something out, puts it in his wheelbarrow, and carts it away. For what, I don't know, to where, I don't know. Others stand and look at the gaping hole. The hole that was created months ago now. Where are the earthmovers, the machines that break up concrete and haul it away? Where are the engineers, creating a new bridge that will be safe for the children to cross?


The house next door, the huge, concrete house with pink and white paint, is destroyed. It had completely coIllapsed within seconds of the quake. It is in exactly the same state as that day months ago. The family lives in the back yard in tents. They work a little at a time, but it doens't seem to change. The wall is down between the two properties. A major rebuilding project. Yet, it remains undone.  The neighbor seems unwilling to help in the rebuilding.

I am astounded at the amount of help that seems to be pouring in, yet *nothing* is changing. I need to see something changing. I'm going to go hold Stanley.  For a few minutes, I can be part of the change.