a/n: First off this isn't one of those cute happy oneshots so if you're looking for that then you're not gonna find it here. Secondly, these are real things that are going on in the world right now. Some facts:
-There are an estimated 27 million people in slavery at this moment, more than any time in history.
-A child is sold somewhere in the world every two minutes.
-25,000 around the world die every day due to starvation.
- At 10:22 A.M. August second 394 people had starved to death, 92 people died of AIDS, 106 died of Pneumonia, and 70 have died from tuberculosis. All of these deaths have occurred since 10 A.M. Many of these because can't afford any treatment.
- People in the United States on average give 20 cents per 100 dollars to help with any kind of relief for those in refugee camps.
-12 Million people are currently living in refugee camps around the world.
-7.8 million of these people have lived in refugee camps for five years or more.
So think about it next time you're gonna complain, is your life really that bad? Probably not.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of this.
The air was heavy with the smells; filthy bodies, acidic smoke from small cooking fires, raw human waste, and the occasional sweet scent of roasting meat. At first it had been enough to make the stomach heave in disgust, but after several days one had become so accustomed to the scents that it was only noticed after a fresh breeze blew down from the mountains bringing with it the scent of freedom and the hope for a better life.
Makeshift homes, haphazardly thrown together, bide for space in the dry field.
Buildings comprised of plywood leaned over shanties constructed of tarp and scrap metal, while old tents no longer stable rested in the shadows of towering cardboard constructions. Standing out like beacons were the new tents donated by charities that were always in high demand and short supply.
The sounds created caused new comers to stop in shock as the disorderly symphony assaulted them. Young boys shouted as they ran through the spaces between tents, ignoring the muck that clung to their legs, as they chased a ball of tightly bound rags in a game of soccer; Women talked amiably as they stood in a snaking line, waiting to receive pure water; girls sang shrill songs as they pulled faded and cracked plastic combs through their thick, greasy hair; and men told stories about their youth as they secured parts of their homes.
The scorching sun caused people to seek shelter from it in any way possible, sitting inside their tents, hiding underneath the few scraggly trees that grew at the perimeter of the camp, or holding a thin t-shirt over their head to block its rays. When dark clouds moved across the sky new comers gave thanks for the blessed relief for their heat while the ones who had been there longer sighed bitterly knowing what was to come.
Thunder rumbled threateningly in the sky as a gust of wind swept into the down throwing the dry earth into the air and the eyes of those outside. As the wind grew stronger families clung to their homes as the wind whipped the tarps around and bent the poles of tents in its strength. Rain began to fall, gently at first, filling the containers people had left outside in hopes of collecting more water, but then with gathering ferocity causing people to exclaim as heavy drops slammed into their skin. The ground so dry for so long was unable to pull much of the water into it, allowing it to flow over the top of the sunbaked dirt in the camp. Men and women desperately tried to gather their possessions and hold it above the water that would destroy it.
A boy ran between tents gathering items and placing them well out of the reach of the water or he would help hold down canvas, plastic, and whatever else the building was comprised of as the men worked to find a way to keep it from blowing away in the relentless winds. As soon as he knew he did all he could for a person he moved to the next who needed his help, ignoring the torrential downpour that soaked his body and clothing, causing it to cling to his body while rivulets of dirty water trickled down his skin, effectively rinsing some of the dirt that covered him off. A black Labrador followed at his heels the rain shining off his fur.
The storm was ferocious but moved quickly, dwindling as quickly as it had formed. Leaving in its wake people scrambling to fix the damage it had wrecked. The lad continued to wind his way through the refugee camp asking people if they needed any assistance and then lending a hand in whatever he could. Eventually people began to decline his offer, stating that everything was in control and he could help someone who needed him more desperately.
No one bothered to wonder about this boy as he moved along; he was thin, but that was the norm for all who dwelt in the camp, his blue eyes held the knowledge of seeing to much for someone so young, but that wasn't unusual in a camp like this either, children younger than him carried the same haunted look from seeing the horrors that drove their family away from the homeland; to the others he was just a friendly boy who like them dwelt in the camp because he lost his home. Occasionally one might smile at the sight of a boy and his dog willing to help, but that was no cause to examine him any further.
As the sun began to sink behind the distant mountains the duo made their way to the corner of the camp. The boy sunk to the ground besides a tarp held off the ground by several cardboard boxes and cinderblocks, inside a ratty backpack and well worn blanket were its only furnishings. The teen roughly pulled several pieces of dry, yellow straw from the ground and began to turn them over and over in his hands.
The dog turned his head to the side as if examining his companion. "You alright, mate?"
The boy simply shrugged in response and bit his lip, before returning to fiddling with the plant. The two sat in silence for several more minutes; the dog intently studying the youth and the boy keeping his eyes fixed on his hands.
When a warm hand was placed on his shoulder he jumped and turned to face the person who had approached him. A woman stood beside him, her face lined with age, a small bowl of white rice and vegetables in her hand. "Do you mind if I sit down?"
Ben shook his head and made room for her.
"I saw you today, helping people. I wanted to thank you. Not many people would be willing to help others like that." She handed the bowl to him. "I thought I would bring you something to thank you."
"I can't take this. You need it more than I do."
"Oh child," The woman cupped his chin with her hand. "You are young and I am old. You have many years left in your life and I have few. You need food if you are going to live to see all of those years intended for you."
The boy shook his head. "I'm fine, I'm not even hungry." As if to argue himself his stomach rumbled as he breathed in the savory aroma.
The woman laughed, her eyes dancing. "I don't believe that's true. Take it, I have more at my tent."
Ben paused for a moment, hungrily eying the bowl, before taking it from her. He used his fingers to shovel the warm food into his mouth, stopping before he finished the meal and placed the bowl in front of the dog. "Thank you. We haven't had much recently." He gestured to the animal who was licking the last grains of rice from the edges of the bowl.
"I can tell. You're all skin and bones." The woman looked into the small area where he was staying. "Don't you have any family to stay with?"
"No. I have Ned here." He answered and patted the dog, ignoring the pity that descended on the woman's face at his untroubled tone.
"Have they been gone long? You're so young, don't you miss them?"
"They died years ago. I don't remember them at all, sometimes I think I remember something about my mother, but I know I'm just imagining it. I don't miss them, how can you miss what you don't know?" He paused. "Why did you notice me? Surely there were others helping that you could thank."
"You remind me of my son, he was about your age and would have certainly done what you did."
"What happened to him?" Ben questioned, hearing the sorrow that laced her words.
"He wanted to follow his father and fight against injustice and the people who attacked our homeland. He had barely been gone two months when I received a letter from a boy he had been traveling with that told me had been killed from an infection."
"I'm sorry, that's terrible. Do you have any other children?"
"A daughter."
"What's she like?"
A small smile crossed the woman's face before vanishing. "She was so full of life and loved to explore the hills behind our home. She could sing like an angel and was so beautiful. I haven't seen her since she was fifteen, she would be a woman now. Before I had to come here, I would occasionally hear from her."
"Did she leave you to?"
"Not willingly. After my husband died I found another man I thought would take care of us. We had been married for three years when he insisted he take my daughter into the nearest city, to help carry supplies back. It was several days journey away so I wasn't surprised when it took almost a week for him to come back. When he did he was by himself. I begged him to tell me where my daughter was, but he refused to answer. After almost two days of pleading he finally brought the pouch in which he kept our money out and showed it to me, it was fuller than I had ever seen it before. He then told me that we needed the money more than a silly girl who spent her days daydreaming. I insisted he go back at once and find her, but he told me that he had sold her to a private buyer that never returned his purchases. She has been forced to work in a brothel, doing whatever any man asks of her ever since that day."
Ben watched the mountains for a moment pitying the girl; he knew how she must feel, knowing you don't belong to yourself, the terror of constant threats, the pain of having these threats enacted, the anger stirred at having to follow someone else's orders. "It's awful. You have no idea how sorry I am for both of you."
"I have faith that someday it will be better for both of us." The woman stood and took the now empty bowl back. "My husband will wonder where I am soon."
Ben stood as well. "Thank you for the food and for coming to talk, sometimes it gets lonely with just us."
The woman reached out and pulled the boy into her arms, "Child, someday you won't be lonely; you won't have to worry about not eating. Someday it will be better for you as well." She pointed at the mountains where the last streaks of pink were still visible from the sunset. "As long as we have beauty like that in the world I know that it can get better." With that the woman pulled back and with last smile she moved away from the boy who watched her go.
As soon as she was out of sight the boy reached down to the ground, picked up a stone from the ground, and flung it away from him. He glared after it for a moment before dropping onto the ground and burying his face in his knees.
"Ben, what's wrong?" Ned worried voice entered the boy's head.
"This."
"What's this?"
"These people are stuck here for who knows how longer, because they aren't safe at their homes. Their children are killed and sold into slavery. This morning I saw two people being buried, one of them was maybe ten and they both died of things that could easily treated, but they didn't have access to the help. Families were trying to protect their stuff against the storm and I helped, but soon we'll have to move on and I won't be able to help and the storms will come again and again and again."
The dog placed his head on the boy's legs and mournfully looked into his eyes. "They may not have much, but they have hope."
"Hope." The boy snorted. "What good is hope? It won't feed or shelter them; it won't protect their children or heal them. Hope is nothing." Anguish filled the boy's blue eyes as he looked out at the barren land in front of him, freshly dug graves spotted the landscape, rocks covered the mounds in an attempt to keep from wild animals from digging up the bodies, but Ben knew that this didn't always work. "These people have absolutely nothing; they wait hours in line just to get a drink of water. And then in places all over the rest of the world, there are people complaining because the five minute line at Starbucks is so long. How is that fair in any way? No one cares and no one tries to help. The world is just getting worse and worse and sometime its all seems so futile."
"What's futile?"
The boy choked back a sob, "What we're doing. We try to help but what does it really matter, even if we spent the next fifty years hear we'll never be able to help everyone here."
"We're not meant to help everyone."
"Because even the angel knows it's futile! That's all our efforts are, futile. We will work and the world will never be better."
Ned grew silent, knowing that no matter what he said, that at the moment there was no comforting his friend. So he simply sat and watched as his friend's body was rocked with heaving sobs at the futility of their assignment.
a/n: And there you have it, some good angst and stuff. Please review and try to help there are plenty of organizations and events that help with some of the situations that are mentioned in here.