Sometimes we are fortunate

Sitting on my comfy bed typing this, I earlier chatted with my roommate from China (roommate #2 that is). He is from the Congo, and with his philosophy on life and the way he reminisces of the past, it would be hard to imagine his country back home is so dangerous. Usually in his drunken stupor, he would chat with me on gmail when he's online (or I would assume since he always goes "hey Stephany!"). Usually we'd just miss each other since I was away or he just signs off. The best roommates I have found so far were the ones older than me, and have wisdom to bestow upon me with the way of life.

This time, we finally had the chance to chat, and as usual, I assume him drunk. Different from the usual conversations, this time he asks about my family. Rather than exactly waiting for my answer, he goes to tell about his. His older brother disappeared several weeks ago. At first I thought he meant his brother ran away from home. But it didn't sound so. And the only thing his family knew was that he was taken away by guys in the national army uniform.

When I read that, there was no way I could relate to his problems. I felt his pain, the connection of family, but what is one to say about a sibling being taken away in the midst of the danger zone? If I recall correctly from when I lived with him, I remember him mentioning another one of his siblings had passed away earlier too.

I cannot imagine how people would barge in and kidnap me from the safety of this comfortable bed and surroundings. The only thing my roommate could do was hope. Week after week...hope. Hope for his return. What else can one do?

I was sheltered from such pains by being fortuante enough to be born in the US. I have been fortunate enough my parents have worked their butts off to give me a life where I don't need to live in dangerous neighborhoods. And now, despite my roommate's pains, I have been fortunate enough to open my eyes to the different societies so close to me, and so diverse. Some work all their lives to achieve happy endings to their stories, some were born with it, and some no matter how hard they thought they reached their happy ending, wake up again to a new set of problems. That is life of varying degrees.