It is almost 11 pm and I cannot sleep. This is the end of my second day of the fast. I have experienced many emotions and states of mind today that I did not expect.
Backing up, the first day was uncomfortable. I was hungry but my mind seemed to be in a consistent state, unlike the ups and downs I have experienced today. Today I started out full of energy, then totally tanked and was hit with headaches. And now this evening I have a burning energy I cannot explain. It feels like I just had a double espresso, but my body has not had any caffeine in over 48 hours. I cannot sleep, and I am drawn to the fastdarfur.org website to read the blogs of those who have experienced “day 2″ before me. Instead I land on the profiles and videos of the child refugees. I listen as one boy speaks about eating meat and drinking milk back home in Darfur and I cannot begin to imagine how deep and simple his desire for food and a normal life are at this very minute.
Being displaced is inconceivable to me but I can tell, for lack of a better term, it just sucks. I know that is not the most poetic way to say it, but this is surely the way it seems and it is so infuriating to think that so many people are displaced at this very moment (robbed of their lifestyle, their health and so much more) and we as a nation have every power to change that, but we are not. We are sitting on the sidelines.
I am not sure if my participation in this fast will make a difference to anyone that can do anything about it, but I know that 3 days is worth trying, and I would go 30 more if I knew it would change things, even for just one of the children’s profiles I have just read.