The longhouse is a flurry of activity today.  I spent time with the women this morning, pounding rice flour and sifting for cakes they are making.

I needed some time alone so I wandered down to the river.  One of the Dayak mothers was washing her clothes, and I sat quietly watching her until she finished.  A few minutes after she left, I also turned to start back to the longhouse.  As I crossed the wooden bridge leading back to the village, I noticed her wet bare feet had left perfect footprints.  My stride easily fell into sync with where her feet had just walked.  I couldn’t help but put myself in her shoes and think about what her life is like.  What are her anxieties?  Her great joys?  Does she dream for the future?

As I neared the end of the bridge, the sun was beating down on her imprints; they got fainter and fainter and then they disappeared…

I am terrified of the issues that face this village.  Maybe Ensaid Panjang will find a way to save itself from the palm oil companies that are encroaching on their land; maybe DeforestACTION will aid them in their struggle.  But the painful fact is that not all the villages can or will be saved.  And for many, it’s already too late.  Their rich culture,  deep history and loving communities are disappearing as suddenly as the Dayak mother’s imprint.

Fifteen Eco-Warriors cannot save them.  One hundred and fifty people cannot save them.  Even one thousand five hundred individuals are not enough.  But perhaps if we all spread the word,  if we all start caring and making informed decisions about the companies and products we support, if we all become a voice for the voiceless…