Blood Diamond

Last night, Ryan and I watched the movie Blood Diamond. It was an incredibly violent and potent movie, graphically depicting the violent side of life in war-torn Africa. It was a very well-acted movie, and I appreciated the realism it portrayed, in an effort to mobilize Americans to action, without being overly heavy-handed or propagandist in the way some movies come off. (I'm thinking of George Clooney's movie Syriania, which I almost walked out on, because it felt so very anti-American to me.) I think the strength of Blood Diamond was that it didn't focus on world politics, but it personalized the plight of Africa in general by telling a story, by focusing on the lives of a white African diamond-smuggler, a black African fisherman, his son who was conscripted into the army as a child, and a white American journalist. It's one thing to go on and on about the horrors of war; it's another thing to show how this impacts people personally.

Although the movie was not "based on a true story" in the way many such movies are, many of the events depicted have happened and do happen in Africa. By about half way through the movie, I broke down in tears and didn't really stop until the end. Watching "movie" violence is one thing, but I was painfully aware of the fact that those sorts of events really happened. (I think I was most repulsed by the way the little boys were taught to kill, as well as shot up with heroin and other drugs. I wanted to vomit and had to leave the room at that point. Violence against children is something I can not even tolerate the thought of.) I woke up this morning still feeling very disturbed by what I saw last night.

The thing that gives me hope is that there are people I personally know, both native Africans and white Americans, who are giving their lives to bring hope and healing to a continent that has suffered so much. In particular, I'm thinking of Celestin Musakura, who started African Leadership and Reconciliation Ministries (ALARM for short). He himself was a victim of the genocide in Rwanda, having lost close family members, but instead of turning to bitterness, he now works with people all over the world, to help them resolve conflict through forgiveness and not violence. I also think of Dennis and Lillian Klepp, who went to my church in Texas (Irving Bible Church), who decided to up and move to Africa, although they were middle-aged and lived a comfortable life. They now run an orphanage in Sudan, called Harvesters, providing for a hundred orphans at a time, in a land where many children have lost parents due to the civil war there. I also think of Jenny Nicholson, a friend from North Carolina who I've known since I was 2, who started an annual Christian music festival called Carolina Hope to raise funds for Beacon of Hope, a business-as-missions endeavor to help women earn money, whose lives have been affected by AIDS.

Although it was emotionally wrenching for me to watch the movie, it was a good reminder that, outside my happy little domestic world, there are people out there in desperate situations, and it's our responsibility as Christians to pray and support those who are hurting.