NATO AIR
Senior Member
this was sent via e-mail to me by my former chaplain, Lt. Cmdr. Cedric Hunter, now deployed in Iraq but still a fervent supporter of intervention in Darfur. The letter is from an elderly aid worker from rural Georgia, who has interrupted his retirement to venture to the border area of Chad alongside Darfur. He was with the Navy Seabees active duty and as a contractor for decades and went to the Darfur region to assist in the cultivating of water sources and the construction of aid camps.
Dear Pres. Bush and Jesus Christ,
In all my 80 years on this blessed Earth, I have never witnessed anything close to what I see today. I have been to numerous Pacific islands ravaged by war, to Korea, to Vietnam and even to Lebanon. I have seen horrible things, but nothing so terrible as these I now bear witness to today. I have never been at such a loss, so here I am, writing to the most powerful man on the Earth and his savior, my savior and humanity's savior.
There are young boys here who have had their eyes cut out with pure malice by the same men who raped their mothers and slit their throats. Their fathers have been rounded up, shot and buried in wells, burning homes and once bountiful fields. Their sisters have been raped by many men, and impregnated by them for the purpose of wiping their race off the face of the Earth. I cry, I hold a hand to my heart and a hand to my Bible, and I pray.
We do not have enough food to feed the starving. We do not have enough medicine to heal the dying. We try mightily, but too many die before we can reach them to pray with them. Moslems most are, but they pray with us when they can, they lie back, clasp their hands with us and with all their remaining strength, pray to the Creator of All for peace and support. I cry, I hold a hand to my heart and a hand to my Bible, and I pray.
I ventured with a Frenchman, a South African and a woman from Mexico and we were able to go inside Darfur itself, in order to assist other aid groups to find sources of water. I witnessed in one burned out village, children whose heads had been cut off and their bodies stacked up, then burned by men with turbans and flowing white robes. These are the militiamen, the janjaweed, and they celebrate their slaughter by dancing and congratulating themselves. They made no action to hide or disguise their slaughter, they ignored our shock and celebrated on. I cry, I hold a hand to my heart and a hand to my Bible, and I pray.
I have to leave the region now. It has been two months and my wife is badly sick at home in Georgia. I leave behind the dying, the suffering, the ravaged, the raped and the abandoned. I make one last effort to find something good here. I see it instantly, the blind boy reaching for his pregnant sister's hand and finding it. He holds it lovingly across his cheek, then kneels with her as both pray. These survivors are strong, honorable people who are being wiped off the face of the Earth. My president, my savior, what can we do for them? For now, I wipe my tears. I only know to hold a hand to my heart and a hand to my Bible, and I pray.
Thomas Boyd