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that she would be reunited with her mother.
No one cares anymore. It has been two weeks and the world has
forgotten about the disaster that hit Gymbia. The supportive
donations have stopped coming in as publicity has been lost, and
those who are fortunate are no longer giving generous offerings.
The water has been drained and is no longer causing damage, but
the destruction that has been brought upon this town cannot be
undone. Many homes have suffered irreversible scarring. The
farmland will not be of any use until the ground is dryer. Disease is
quickly spreading and the many people who have died from fatal
illnesses will forever remain in the memories of their loved ones.
Ashaki is beautiful. Her untamed, curly black hair flows free past
her shoulders that are covered in bright fabric. Her smile is brighter
than her sun, and her eyes warmer than the best summer days. She
has a heart of gold and her ability to nurture those who have nothing
to give her in return astounds me. I’ve never felt stronger about such
an incredible woman and it was during our fourth week working in
Gymbia that I confessed my love.
The world is meant to be loved, and it is through the kindness of
others that we truly are able to appreciate how amazing people can be.
‘
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