I suspect I've been having a bandwidth problem. I've been in Haiti for two weeks, tapped into the the humanitarian organization network, witnessing some fascinating things -- and finding myself saying very little about it publicly.
Why not? Partly because I've often been exhausted with the work of witnessing and experiencing. Reporting back is second in priority, by quite a distance. But most of what has held me back has been the weight of perceived responsibility. All these great people who want so much. All this land that begs for healing. All these questions about development, obligation, blame, solutions, forgiveness. What can little ol' mwe say about it?
I can say a lot, but it will take time before those thoughts are ready to flow. For now, I can say smaller things. I should. I will. Today, I am. Here is a big piled-up fisherman's net that was on the beach where my host, Emmet Murphy, and I went swimming with friends yesterday, Easter Sunday. Fishing is relatively simple here. Most of the boats I've seen are rowboats. Two fishermen row out in the morning; they tend their nets, they return when they return. Simple. Charming, in a way. Notice the floats on this net are made from cut up pieces of flip-flops.