I've seen this photo several times before. Today, I came by it again... and again, it elicited the same reaction from me; I gasped out loud and held my breath, my eyes filling with tears for this dear, dear little soul. This little child, this precious little treasure - alone, starving, in need beyond words, her only company a vulture and the photographer that stopped to take her desperate little photo. She is exhausted and collapsed - her little body tells more than a story of hunger, but a story of hopelessness.
I researched this photo because it moved me so much. I found out that it was taken in the Sudan in 1993 by one Kevin Carter, who, for this particular photograph, entitled "A Starving Child in Sudan", won the Pulitzer in 1994.
Before his Pulitzer, Mr. Carter was a part of the "Bang Bang Club," a group of four South African photojournalists who traveled to the poorest, most war-torn townships in South Africa, recording the horrific as they went. I cannot comment on who Mr. Carver actually was, because I do not know. I do know that he exposed himself to terrible dangers as he traveled, taking photos amidst executions, murders, gunfights and all the other horrors of war. He also bore witness to the starving masses of humanity which were in large part, greatly fueled by the 1993 Sudanese Civil War.
September 13, 1960 - July 27, 1994
The question arose shortly after the photo was published on the front page of the New York Times, what ever happened to this little girl? Did he rescue her? Did he sweep her up in his arms and run her to the feeding station where she was able to recover? Did she live? Is she still alive? What happened to her?
To this, I only have what Mr. Carver told the press: He said he was so upset at having seen all the hundreds of starving people at the feeding station, that he ventured off into the brush, only to hear the soft sounds of a whimpering child. As he approached the girl, a vulture settled not too far away. He then goes on to say he waited to line up the right shot, hoping the bird would spread it wings, but finally, after 20 minutes, resolved to be content with the photos he had already taken and proceeded to scare the bird away. He then walked to a nearby tree, sat, smoked a cigarette and wept. For whatever reason, he did not help the little girl.
Some say she had already been to the feeding station, others say she was a short distance away from it. Some say there were hundreds of other starving children just out of range of the camera. Others say she was the only one around. Whatever the case may have been, the fact remains - this little child, this poor little soul was in desperate need and no one stopped to love her, to value her, to care for her in those 20 minutes... no one.
Mr. Carver committed suicide only two short months after accepting his Pulitzer for this photo. Some say he was so guilt stricken over his lack of compassion that he couldn't stand to live, others say just the opposite - he was so compassionate, that he became severely distressed and inconsolable due to all he had seen. Maybe it was a mixture of the two; being immersed in that much pain and suffering must take it's toll and I imagine, when you witness such devastation, it starts to harden you, especially if you feel there is nothing you can do to help. In his final words, Mr. Carver mentioned that what he had seen over the course of his life haunted and pained him beyond what he could bear and so, took his own life.
This story doesn't have a happy ending and it's not only about the people in Sudan, but it's about the whole world in general. There are many who would still throw accusations at Mr. Carver, calling him a vulture himself, having taken the photo and done nothing to help, while they themselves choose to step over and ignore the issue at hand to gripe about one individuals moral code. In actuality, although Mr. Carver didn't respond to this dear little child, his photograph shocked a nation to tears and helped to lay the moral groundwork for future political action. The photo not only depicts one unimaginable moment in time, but it whispers about the continuing struggle between good and evil to everyone who views it.
I think about that little girl and what she must have been feeling in that moment. I cannot imagine she was unaware the bird was following her, nor can I imagine she wasn't aware of why it was following her. Her little frame is crumpled - she doesn't have the strength to even stand, but the desire to live moves her forward, if only an inch at a time. She has no one to care for her, her little spirit so broken and crushed, she must have been aching for someone to just hold her... to just take her hand and comfort her - one kind word - one heartfelt touch - anything to transport her little mind to a place where she was safe... where she was loved.
The photo is saturated with sorrow. It drips misery, leaks heartache, and bleeds agony.
How many other little ones still remain in the dirt, exhausted and broken, still crying for someone to help them? How many little souls do we pass by everyday? Do they need to be physically present to be real to us or is just knowing that somewhere, a little one is dying of hunger enough? If we are aware of their plight and chose to do nothing, if we understand what is happening, yet our convictions do not lead us to help where we can, are we not much better than those who stand idly by to watch?
These questions visit me almost daily anymore. Each time I look into my fridge or pull up to my home - each time I play my iPod or watch my TV, I cannot help but think, as someone who is supposed to be in love with Jesus, why oh why do I spend my time, money and energy buying into a world that doesn't care if other people starve to death? A world where my indulgence is more important than a child who needs nothing more than my love? Why am I not motivated enough to abandon the things that make me "comfortable" for the sole sake of answering His call? What is prohibiting me from letting go of these, these... these - material possessions - when life and love are so much more important?
My thoughts are feed by what Scripture tells us - although we cannot earn our way to heaven (Ephesians 2:8-9), good deeds are a by-product of our spiritual health; faith without works is dead (James 2:26). I find myself reflecting deeply on the parable of the widow giving her last two copper coins in comparison to what the rich people around her were giving (Luke 21:1-4). From this account, Jesus tells us sacrificial giving, following Him whole-heartily, giving and walking WAY outside our comfort zones, is something He deeply desires us to do. However, for we, the rich (any of the roughly 62 million Americans [1/4 of the American population] who fall within the top 10% of the world's wealthiest) - for us, it is something extremely difficult to do, so difficult in fact, Jesus says it's easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle (Matthew 19:16-30). However, there is still hope - He goes on to say that with God, all things are possible.
True, we do not carry this photo or these thoughts in the forefronts of our minds, furthermore, they make us uncomfortable... or maybe we do grieve, for an instant, and just don't know what else to do. Maybe it's just me and I have issues balancing my internal scales. I know scores of wonderful people who give of themselves very generously, but for me... for myself, these are the questions I revisit over and over again. These are the questions that keep me up late at night and sit on my lap in the morning. They ride with me to work in my car, sing to me when I hear music about the broken, they patiently wait for moments of stillness and then break into running when I see a child in need.
However, there is one set of questions I always come back to. One set that I always return to no matter what I've seen, heard or done throughout my day... "Jesus, You gave up everything for me. If You are calling me to action, what is my charge here? How can I glorify you with my life? Jesus, what do You want me to do?"
And to this question, I always hear Him give the same answer...
The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.'
- Matthew 25:40
There is still Hope.
There is still Love.
Even amidst capturing the unthinkable... there is still Jesus.
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