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The bus ride started
and we were off, though to where I did not know
exactly...I wondered a lot about what I would find
at Fort Benning...
I was overwhelmed by
what I saw. Imagine a long two-lane street, the sun
beating down from the sky, houses lining the left
sides of the road, and apartment buildings lining
the right. There was not much color, and yet there
was color everywhere...When you looked down the
center of the road there were vendors dotted along,
some selling t-shirts and stickers, and others
selling street paintings depicting stories of
suffering and oppression. There were people who
looked like they could be my grandparents, and
others that looked like they could be my friends.
There were men who walked from vendor to vendor
looking at the goods. There were the two older
women, with their sun hats and glasses, holding a
program pointing and talking, planning their
afternoon activities. There were college aged people
hugging and talking, mini-reunions taking place as
friends from old came face to face with each
other...
I sat down and took
off my sweatshirt as the sun had become hot, and
sitting with the rays showering over me was
wonderful. Funny how relaxed I was able to feel when
only a few hundred yards away men were trained to
cause excruciating pain to people, young old, male,
female. They held no prejudices as to who would be
next. I watched as couples, and groups of friends
left to spend the night in neighboring areas, coming
back tomorrow stronger than ever before.
As the mood had
been festive and the sun had shown the previous day,
the clouds held the sun and laughs at bay. The gray
from the sky had seeped into those who waited, and
the white crosses were a stark contrast, a splash of
color...People were quiet, carrying their banners,
posters, signs, and crosses, waiting for their
chance to represent those who were at others' mercy.
We got into line on the left side of the road,
waiting for the procession to start. When it did, I
was stunned. They sang out the name and age of each
person who had been killed by graduates of the SOA.
I was angry for the children who were eight or ten
and had been killed. They had just started to live
and would never have the chance to love, to laugh,
to cry...We walked at a snail's pace, and when my
legs hurt, I shook it off, realizing that it was
only my legs, but for those whose names were sung,
it was their life, and their family...
A short trip to
Georgia turned into something which will travel with
me were ever I go... I realized I was not ready to
stop. Walking, singing, and being ¡presenté! caused
me to want to change the wrongs, to stop the crimes,
to help those whose situations make it impossible
for them to live, and to protect those eight and ten
year-olds so that they will be more than a name.
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