I experienced something yesterday afternoon.
Something that initially gave me one of those right-on-the-spot nasty kidney-kicks.
The same something ended by letting a shed of hope sweep right through me.
A support group session.
A place where people who have disabilities in their close family can meet and discuss their feelings freely without being judged or laughed at. Disabilities are highly stigmatized in black townships here, they are seen as "curses". A consequence of this false-belief is the complete outcasting of families who have some member with a disability.
The meeting was not what saddened me. The opposite, really.
The look of the people was.
Roughly 20 persons attended, sitting in a circle with weighted hearts.
Their auras. Their body language. The perennial tiredness in their eyes. The quiet tone of their voices. Their battered skin.
"Life did this to me" written all over their faces.
You could actually see what a life of poverty, alienation from society, fighting to take care of disabled loved ones without assistance or help, loneliness and degradation do to a person.
Since the initiation of the support group sessions, the number of participants constantly grows.
Good news travel fast. They are almost quicker than the speed of light.
Rumor has it you do not have be completely alone in this world anymore.
People who want to listen, support or even just sit down next to you and not have the feeling of being an outcast. People who have each other.
All beginnings of something new must start by ending something old.
Like say, loneliness turned into brotherhood.