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"If we could vote, we would," said Salem Salim, a Sudanese graduate student. "What I don't understand is why 30 to 40 percent of Americans only vote!"

He was meeting with a group of African graduate students studying in America. They were from Nigeria, Sudan and South Africa representing various tribes who didn't agree on much. But they were unanimous on one issue.

They wanted their opinions heard by their leaders. They wanted a vote in how their country is governed. They wanted democracy.

It is something their countries have been fighting over for decades.

In many developling nations, expressing an opinion contrary to the government's would often lead to death, or at the very least, a senseless beating.

Think about Stephen Biko, a black activitist in apartheid South Africa, who died after being assaulted by government troops. A journalist, Donald Woods, was forced to flee the country with his family despite being white. He had questioned the government over the circumstances leading to the death of his friend, and expressed a contrary viewpoint. Their saga was retold in the award-winning movie Cry Freedom.

Recently, at a church fundraiser, between mouthfuls of catfish and cole slaw, an older man sitting across from me along the long folding tables stated his reasons for why he had no intention of voting in November.

"There is no one worth voting for!"

The comment made me think of this story recently told by the Rev. Steven Bond of First Lutheran Church in Shelby in a sermon.

It was about a man who was a fixture at the park. He was always there every day. He was simply a fun guy. He was caring and loving. And the community reciprocated. Kids played with him. He was respected. But then his wife died.

And the man quit going to the park.

People started asking about him and wondered what had happened. But as more time passed, they forgot about the man. They had moved on. All but one. This friend from the man's church visited the home where he found a gaunt figure seated before an active and vibrant fireplace.

The man was lethargic. Almost a corpse of a figure compared to the energy he exuded at the park. The friend saw the man staring at the fire. The friend didn't say anything. He, instead, nudged a red hot ember from the middle of the fire and moved it away to an isolated corner. And soon the red hot coal lost its lustre and its energy ebbed and it became just a plain ordinary piece of burned coal. The friend then moved the piece back into the throng of activity and the

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