Good morning, Penni! One of the really wonderful things I love about the web is that people who were not immediately accessible to us before are now, and all simply by the great equalizer of being able to use words well to communicate, and having enough computer skills to do a search. I think this makes the future very exciting. Your post about how we need to somehow go about our lives and enjoy them, and not become destroyed by the plight of the less fortunate around us--which is something I definitely need to always be aware of and work on, and thanks very much for pointing it out, because I forget sometimes--reminded me of a column by Adair Lara, a wonderful writer for the San Francisco Chronicle. So I emailed her last night, describing the theme of the column that I couldn't quite locate doing a search of her archives, and she wrote back within a couple of hours, telling me where to find it:
Pleasure Amid All the Suffering
ADAIR LARA
Tuesday, December 2, 1997
AFTER I WROTE about my trip to Bali in a flush
of enthusiasm at having been to such a wonderful
place, several readers e-mailed me about daring to
write so blithely of life on that island, the gamelan
orchestras and ceremonies, without mentioning that
the Balinese live under a harsh Indonesian
government. Will Fusco, dismissing my views as
those of a ''wealthy, pampered American tourist,''
said that ''many Indonesians, even residents of
idyllic Bali, are indeed very angry at their repressive
government.''
I forwarded one of the e-mails to Bill, who sent it
back, saying, ''I'm sorry you had a nice time in
Bali. How dare you, in fact, enjoy any part of your
life knowing about the suffering of the Indonesian
people?''
How dare I, indeed? I get a fair amount of e-mail
from people who seem to have had way too much
coffee that morning, but it's a fair question, without
our having to go as far as Indonesia to answer it. It
takes a certain amount of callousness just to go
about our lives, knowing how much unseen
suffering goes on behind the blank windows we
pass on the street. How do I enjoy my life knowing
there are children going hungry in this very city?
How do you?
I remember when they first planted that wonderful
line of palm trees marching up Market Street
toward Twin Peaks, turning this cool city into a hot
tropical beach town, complete with imaginary
samba music.
Some people pointed out that the thousands of
dollars spent on them should have gone to the
homeless shelters that house families who might
otherwise be shivering on the streets. Is it fair to
enjoy those palm trees, knowing that somewhere,
the money might have eased human suffering?
WHEN I WAS on the island, a short, skinny
Balinese with a scarf around his head led us on a
walk through the rice fields and told us his uncle
had grabbed the family rice field that should have
come to him. This was the tragedy of his life. He
now leads walks because he has no rice field of his
own. I asked him how much a field costs, and he
said $1,250. Though I'm far from being wealthy, I
could give him that without it making a huge
difference to me.
But what I did was just fall back into the rhythm of
the walk and listen to him explain how the offerings
at the temples had made the recent typhoon miss
Bali altogether. I did this even though it's a frequent
daydream of mine to be able, simply by writing a
check, to lift someone out of misery.
I find I've written myself to a point better left to the
philosophers. But I think a case can be made that
palm trees are important, too, and that the warm air
of Bali and the warmer smiles of the people there
can be frankly enjoyed, even with the awareness
that the Indonesian government has been known to
fire into a crowd of its own people.
MANY PEOPLE ENJOY visiting London, despite
the fact they still have an occupation force in
Northern Ireland; and increasing numbers go to
China now, though some would argue its record of
human rights makes Indonesia look like Berkeley.
I also sent Will's e-mail to my sister Adrian. She
wrote back: ''Yes, we should probably be more
sensitive to the plight of others, but luckily we come
from the poor and oppressed and shot-at.
''Please allow us to exhibit a momentary
enthusiasm in our lives, for the light in the garden or
the feel of the crisp fall air, despite the devastating
realities that surround us. We live for these
moments of awareness of the beauty and grace that
life brings us in between the madness. Will is right,
and so are you, Dare.''
c1998 San Francisco Chronicle Page D8
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