Common Dreams - I basked in the warm Borneo sun, following a long run somewhere at the edge of a rainforest. The beach was only partly clean, but the water was most inviting. My children ran excitedly, collecting what I assumed to be shells and whatever other treasures the South China Sea had decided to divulge that afternoon. Their movement, from afar, signaled frenzy and perhaps even a slight panic. I hesitated at first, then ran to investigate.
At the ages of six and four, my girls Zarefah and Iman were already the most kindhearted kids. They were actually going through complete and unmitigated panic, as they had just noticed the starfish which had been cast off by the waves and which were now dotting the shoreline as far as the eye could see. The children became determined to place every single one of them back in the water before they died.
But most all of them were already dead.
My kids didn't know this. And I didn't have the courage to break the dreadful news. I stood in silence, proud to the core, as the girls' shaky voices urged everyone around them to help. Then I too was summoned. "Dad, what are you waiting for? Please help us before they all die." I tried to absolve myself from what seemed to me a waste of time. But when I saw the tears in Zarefah's eyes, and heard the fright in her voice, I joined in - as enthusiastically as the many other beachgoers-turned-environmentalists. Read more.