Dot in the Sky (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
dotinthesky) wrote2003-11-06 02:28 pm
dotinthesky) wrote2003-11-06 02:28 pm
Stop whispering, Start shouting
Reading that statement from Maher Arar threw me into a weird mood. I read the article almost entirely, only skipping some of the torture descriptions; they became like a well-used knife, with it's edges dulled. I didn't want to believe something like that can happen to a human being this day and age. Once again, my-self being naive.
You can't go flippant and funny after being exposed to somebody's life story such as his. You can't turn the page to the funnies section. I wanted to write something about my TaiChi class last night, making fun of the people in the course (because I thought they did deserve it.) But how can I do that when there are human beings who take away the dignities of others without a second thought?
I had to go to the Archives on the other side of the river. I decided I would cross Waterloo bridge by foot instead of taking the bus. The day is clear and warm today, the sky is blue. The sun is shining and people seem happier than usual. But there I was, walking slowly to the archives, thinking of other horrors. I remembered this story my mother told me while she was visiting me:
She'd found out from an old South African friend of a terrible tragedy that happened to acquaintances of ours in South Africa. The whole family was spending the evening at home when they heard two cars pull into the driveway. The husband (a man my parents knew) opened the door, got shot in the head and immediatly died. The two cars were filled with black men who proceeded to rape the wife and the daughter, and rip the house of all its belongings. They even phoned friends to come over and help themselves to whatever was left. The wife and daughter left South Africa shortly afterwards and are now under heavy drugs and treatment in England to overcome that experience.
That shit happens all the time. It's happening right now somewhere on this planet.
I was thinking of that story while crossing the Waterloo bridge, and of this news report from last night about date rape. I looked at the buildings by the Thames, the trees with their golden red leaves. Everything so beautiful - I should have felt so happy. The people walking towards me would avert their gazes when they saw how sad I was looking.
But then something wonderful happened. By the end of the bridge was a group of kindergarden children, with teachers, drawing! They were all sitting and looking out from the arches of the bridge towards the far away City Towers, the water rushing away. There were indian, black, white kids... all kinds of children all sitting by each other, drawing, laughing. It was the most hopeful scene, the most pure and quiet and good scene I could see at that moment. It erased all the negative thoughts from me.
I reached the archives, where I was to meet the guy who will be doing data entry for my boss' project. We started talking and he knew everything about Brazilian politics (he is a politics major)... yeah, it was a hope-filled conversation because he recognized how many great things are happening in Brazil, how our elected president represents a revolution.
I feel ok now, I feel that perhaps everything will be ok. What happened to Maher Arar should never happen to another person. But it did happen, he survived his ordeal and now he can tell the world. He can help towards changing what's going on around us, what's going on in the White House. If we all keep his story alive, by sharing it, and many other stories, then perhaps we are also helping bring about a change.
You can't go flippant and funny after being exposed to somebody's life story such as his. You can't turn the page to the funnies section. I wanted to write something about my TaiChi class last night, making fun of the people in the course (because I thought they did deserve it.) But how can I do that when there are human beings who take away the dignities of others without a second thought?
I had to go to the Archives on the other side of the river. I decided I would cross Waterloo bridge by foot instead of taking the bus. The day is clear and warm today, the sky is blue. The sun is shining and people seem happier than usual. But there I was, walking slowly to the archives, thinking of other horrors. I remembered this story my mother told me while she was visiting me:
She'd found out from an old South African friend of a terrible tragedy that happened to acquaintances of ours in South Africa. The whole family was spending the evening at home when they heard two cars pull into the driveway. The husband (a man my parents knew) opened the door, got shot in the head and immediatly died. The two cars were filled with black men who proceeded to rape the wife and the daughter, and rip the house of all its belongings. They even phoned friends to come over and help themselves to whatever was left. The wife and daughter left South Africa shortly afterwards and are now under heavy drugs and treatment in England to overcome that experience.
That shit happens all the time. It's happening right now somewhere on this planet.
I was thinking of that story while crossing the Waterloo bridge, and of this news report from last night about date rape. I looked at the buildings by the Thames, the trees with their golden red leaves. Everything so beautiful - I should have felt so happy. The people walking towards me would avert their gazes when they saw how sad I was looking.
But then something wonderful happened. By the end of the bridge was a group of kindergarden children, with teachers, drawing! They were all sitting and looking out from the arches of the bridge towards the far away City Towers, the water rushing away. There were indian, black, white kids... all kinds of children all sitting by each other, drawing, laughing. It was the most hopeful scene, the most pure and quiet and good scene I could see at that moment. It erased all the negative thoughts from me.
I reached the archives, where I was to meet the guy who will be doing data entry for my boss' project. We started talking and he knew everything about Brazilian politics (he is a politics major)... yeah, it was a hope-filled conversation because he recognized how many great things are happening in Brazil, how our elected president represents a revolution.
I feel ok now, I feel that perhaps everything will be ok. What happened to Maher Arar should never happen to another person. But it did happen, he survived his ordeal and now he can tell the world. He can help towards changing what's going on around us, what's going on in the White House. If we all keep his story alive, by sharing it, and many other stories, then perhaps we are also helping bring about a change.
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