Saturday, June 16, 2012

A POEM FROM AFGHANISTAN but its true for many other countries

Afghan children sort bricks at the Sadat Ltd. Brick factory, where they work from 8am to 5 pm daily, on May 14, 2010 in Kabul, Afghanistan. Majid Saeedi/Getty Images.




I feel ashamed
when I sit at the dining table eating for more than an hour until I am full, but my country’s children from morning to dark night hunt for food in the dirty garbage.

I feel ashamed
when I ride in comfortable cars that make dust as they pass, while intelligent but poor people go to a bus station, get the runaround, wait for hours, and then walk along the edges of war-damaged streets.

I feel ashamed
when I earn a big monthly salary without sweat or hard work, but others wake up early to make a little money working until sunset.

I feel ashamed—
I work in a building with modern equipment, electricity, Internet, but our needy workers stand on curbs, during the sunlight-warm days of summer and cold days of winter, waiting for hours to find daily wage work.

I feel ashamed
when I sleep in a soft, new, clean bed, while my common compatriots do not even have a pillow to rest on.

I feel ashamed
when I see farmers do hard work without basic equipment for years, but their season’s crops go to waste because of distant markets, damaged roads, and transportation expenses.

I feel ashamed
when I hear about our countrymen affected by HIV/AIDS who can’t get good care because of expired, bad-quality medicine and greedy doctors who cheat their patients.

I feel ashamed
when I say I support civil rights, but when I see civil rights abuses I do not stand with the victims and even stand against them.

I feel ashamed
when I realize I have a huge fortune that I don’t share with needy people who are so much less lucky than I.

I feel ashamed
when I see I am a human being, but I can’t see anything like humanity in myself.

By Mina T.

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