Before They Fly

I had lunch with fellow interpreters and delegates from the UMC General Conference (official meeting of the United Methodist Church, akin to a regular constitutional congress).

We were speaking of transportation around the world, and a question was raised about transportation in Mozambique. An interpreter from there began addressing the difficulty of transportation outside of the cities. When Mozambique gained independence in 1975, war for independence gave way to a civil war. As a child in this war, this interpreter saw 6 of his brothers gunned down.

Like many others, the family fled their rural home, heading to the relative safety of the cities for survival. The cities offered the hope for jobs, for survival. Soon, returning home to their rural subsistence farms became impossible, due to a proliferation of land mines. Those lands that once supported life now promised death.

War. How can we talk about the glories of war when we pause even a moment to consider just how destructive war is. Abandoned land mines promise death long after warring factions made arrangements for peace. The destruction of lands once growing food, housing people, and providing resources to support a society only very slowly are restored.

Recently in Baltimore, a major bridge collapsed when a ship accidentally struck a support pillar. I am hearing talk about years for debris to be cleaned up and a new bridge built. Years, in a land not at war. Years, in a place we consider at peace. Years, where there are plenty of economic resources, where the Federal government can fund reconstruction. Years, where we embrace the need to restore the harbor for shipping and provide for vehicle traffic to cross the same waters.

I hear reports that 80% of the buildings in Gaza have been destroyed or made unusable. Hospitals have been destroyed alongside water treatment plants, power plants, all those other structures allowing life to develop into what we consider a normal, civilized, and developed society. For Gaza to return to any semblance of normalcy, what kind of time frame are we looking at? Even if a permanent cease-fire had been declared last week, for how long until it even becomes possible to begin to rebuild?

My interpreter friend lives with his memories of war. He was no young man in military fatigues and armed for fighting. His are the memories of a child watching half a dozen brothers mowed down in seconds. His is one story among hundreds and thousands and millions. When we talk of war, what are we picturing? It is likely nothing with the depth of destruction created by modern weaponry. It probably does not rise to the reality of so many brothers the world over, who cannot return to fields harboring death and the memories of loved ones ripped from their lives due to suits jockeying for power.

Our lunch conversation shifted from the struggles of transportation to a much more somber tone. That took not much longer than the firing of bullets ripping his brothers to shreds. A cease-fire can never bring anyone back. Perhaps, however, we might stop to think of the innumerable lives impacted by war before allowing bullets, missiles, and aerial bombs to fly ever again.



©Copyright 2024, Christopher B. Harbin 



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