I am unplugged again, but it is different this time. I didn’t plan this, for starters! I can usually count on getting internet at certain spots along my route, but this time it has not happened. The hotel was full; we did not stop at CCIT in Champai; and there is not even cell phone out here in Zohkathar! I am still writing when I have a minute (usually early in the morning when I can’t sleep), but I feel more cut off this trip than ever before. I am safe, healthy, happy, but cut off. I did a week unplugged before without trouble, so what is the difference now?
Expectation, is all. This morning I was up with the first light of dawn. I am staying in a very nice guest house overlooking the Burma boarder. Again, it was very quiet. Again, it was the voices in my head that pulled me from my sleep. But today I looked out at those on the receiving end of the racial rant. As I worried about being disconnected from my family and friends, I looked down at a Burmese family on the India side of the river--truly unplugged, disconnected. Unplugged not just from technology but from their homeland, their family, and their culture. Children who will not see their parents birthplace, children who will be judged by their name first and their actions second, children who will have to create a new culture with elements from their past and present.I have yet to make the trip from Aizawl to Zowkathar without our driver stopping somewhere to drop off a letter or a package along the way. It just seems to be a community service the driver provides. Although I am unplugged, this blog is getting to you because of a network of friends: a driver willing to drop off a memory stick with Grace at CCIT; Grace willing to download and email this it my editor, Crystal; and Crystal willing to work her magic and mount this for the rest of my family and friends to see. As long as I have friends, I will never be completely unplugged.


Rama met us with a truck, and off we went to find all the hotels full. This sounds familiar, eh? The very helpful young lady at David’s Kitchen hotel took a while to recognize me without the beard, but, when she did, she gave me that familiar big smile and said I looked 10 years younger, very good. I figure any time you are told you look very good after 40 hours of flying, it is a banner day. We spent the night in a very nice, private residence. I look at Aizawl differently after having been to Haiti. I love Aizawl--one of the last places that really took my breath away--but in the light of my earthquake experience, I feel less comfortable here now.
The voices screaming in my head are not the voices of earthquake survivors but the voices of average people all over the world screaming at each other. I have had too many conversations lately about how this group of people are bad or how that group of people needs to go away. I am uncomfortable with prejudice, although we all possess it to some degree. People should be judged on their actions, not the color of their skin, the spelling of their last name, or the church they attend or don’t attend. We are all different, but we are all together on one very small rock that is getting much smaller! Within any group, there are people who want to make a positive difference. Those are the people I want to work with; those are the people I want to support. 