In the Village…
In the village I was raised in, we had compassion.
No one saw your underwear unless you shared blood, love, or a doctor/patient relationship. And nobody ever wanted to!
We honored and revered our elders. We guarded rather than mistreated our confounded and infirmed.
We nurtured, taught, and protected our young, for they are symbolic of our past, present, and future humanity.
The elders sat comfortably on their porches and educated the youngins about the old ways of life and how to live right, well, and long. Today, they are afraid to sit in their living rooms for fear of home invasion by bad people and uninvited visits from stray bullets.
No one told you to mind your business because everyone else’s business was your business. We, even if related by blood, were committed to OUR community and knew that the village was only as strong as the villagers’ unity!
In our village, politicians didn’t get caught stealing. They got caught wheeling and dealing for outcomes that benefited them, but helped the constituency too.
Strangers could knock on your door and get a drink of water, use your john or phone, and may even earn a meal.
In this newer village, the stranger is afraid to visit you, for what may be behind your door may be stranger than he!
My village was the gateway to the South. It’s now a gateway to hostility.
The stranger is not alone in this fear.