I grew up listening to Lisa Ling talk about the important issues in foreign countries that made me think hard about different ways of life. One of her first assignments overseas was in the heart of Afghanistan during the civil war in 1994. At the time she admits she didn't even know where Afghanistan was on the map. Her selfless and sometimes headless attitude toward getting the story has helped create a priceless dialogue for many of the voiceless around the world. She reminds me that it's OK to ignore the shallow broadcast media channels and shun local, easy stories. From her own life I feel like it's Ok, even important, to search out the hard-hitting journalism that may take a lot of work, or sometimes may require a step outside my comfort zone in order to affect lives.
I had the incredible opportunity and pleasure to hear her speak tonight in Columbia, Missouri. Within her speech, which covered the most influential stories in her life (the lost girls of China, the civil war in Afghanistan, following drug trafficking in Colombia...), she also read a personal poem about a story she covered on child brides while in Ethiopia. In accordance with the subject matter it's appropriately sensitive and graphic. At the end of her speech, she faced an auditorium full of students who were already beginning to think about their busy class schedules and talk about their plans for the weekend and she said to them, "Now that you know, you can't pretend that you don't." It's a statement that has resonated with me for awhile now.
to a much older man
A child of seven
In a far way land
Her dream was to study
to have a better life
But it was already decided
she would be a wife
Twenty fours years her senior
A man she didn't know
He would soon be her husband
and deep down her foe
In some parts of her country
little girls are kidnapped
and raped
Forced to marry
their abductor
They're no longer chaste
The night of their wedding
She wants to run away and hide
Her heart beats wildly
As she lies by his side
He lays on top of her
Her tiny body he mauls
He cannot get inside of her
Her hole is too small
She finds herself pregnant
He wants a son
She's all of fourteen
Her period had come
She carries the baby through
the nine month count
Her body is too tiny
The baby won't come out
It dies in her womb
A hole is torn underneath
She starts to leak urine
A horror she's been bequeathed
Her husband walked out
He couldn't stand her smell
And there's one more
sad thing
I have left to tell
She finally reached a hospital
After two days on a bus
Doctors were on hand
an operation to discuss
They could fix her problem
This brought her great joy
They had to take
the baby out though,
they found out
it was a boy
A day in the life of a
countryside girl
A gift from heaven
Now a bride at seven
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