I heard on the 24-hour news channel about a volcanic eruption in Indonesia and of rising floodwaters in New England. I always feel a bit detached about natural disasters without being there myself to pick up on the urgent vibes and anxiety that get passed around. That being said, I know I am not fit to assess the inhabitants’ decisions without being confronted with those same realities myself. What to leave? What to take?
It must be hard to leave behind the dishes you got for your wedding and the table where you’ve bonded over food with loved ones. If your livelihood is the goat farm out back, how can you turn away, at the risk of never returning, losing it all?
Some observers on the news criticized people for ignoring warnings and refusing to evacuate. Is it because there is something poetic about “going down with the ship”? Were you waiting for a more justified excuse to end it than the everyday ho hum provided? Were you too stubborn to heed the advise of educated meteorologists, and of people who have survived disasters and tragedies before?
It makes me sad to see that some people stay. They just stay, even though volcanic magma heads towards their hiding places. Slow like honey, maybe it won’t ever reach you? Is there something Darwinian about your decision? “I am too weak to continue, therefore I will make this choice and be removed from the gene pool.”
Would the king of the world’s beasts simply accept defeat? Ignore the nature of adrenaline and succumb to disaster?
I know I’m not in New England or Indonesia, but I much prefer hearing the stories of people who get themselves out, take responsibility for themselves and families and make the decision to fight to survive. It’s heartbreaking when their bodies are found frozen in the moment when they were trying to escape. I feel that, at least.
But for those who stay? Who don’t even try? I wouldn’t want to be in the foxhole with you. I’d much prefer the fighters who feel it’s always worth it to try.