Monday, February 8, 2010

The Western Mans Need to Cry


As I sit on my bed for the last time in this city im overcome with nostalgia, tears flooding my worn out eyes. I can't but think, how fucking pathetic.
December last year I travelled to Vanuatu for 2 weeks where I was introduced to a nation completely unaware and in disbelief of that farce 'depression'. I met this beautiful girl called Josie who is now a dear friend, she told me her story of heart break, abuse and explained how her baby belongs to an australian man who pays no child support and has a 1% fertility rate. As we sat, drinking margaritas and smoking cigarettes, her face was filled with joy talking of her experiences, her love for her country and most of all her debt to god for her one year old daughter, the delightful accident.
Josie lives near the slums of Port Vila amongst people who are either unemployed or earning $1 an hour working for the white men of the town. I have never in my life seen such happy people.
As a sufferer of Bi Polar depression, I explained to Josie my feeling of hatred towards myself and my life at the most inappropriate and unsuspected occasions. She sat in shock and said "you know, mi never felt depressed til I left Vila to go to New Zealand". We continued to talk about depression and suicide, something which has become an unfortunate and unwelcome tradition in my home town. I was shocked when Josie began to laugh talking about the ONE person in the whole village who had ever tried, only to be turned away by receiving ridicule from his friends. It was the same in Kenya, the thought of depression was horrific and fictional to ever villager we talked to.
Why is it that as Westerners, with so much, so many things, so much money we are so fucking sad? Why is it that we fall into pits of utter despair for sometimes no reason when there are people who are dying, content at 40 with minimal possessions and a lack of inheritance?
Maybe its not what we don't have, but what we have. We're ungrateful, materialistic bastards whether it is purely the influence of culture or a conscious choice.
I want to understand, I want to be able to be rid of my possessions, my attachment to such worldly, ridiculous items of popular culture...
but god damn I love my Super Nintendo. :/

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