One time, when I was young, I sat by my father in the car and we we’re both looking for my grandmother, his mother, who had a disease and forgot the way to her apartment. It wasn’t the first time it happened, but for me it was the first time looking, and my father told me to keep looking right and he was looking left, and we were driving on Main Street for hours until I recognized her.
One time, when I was young, my mom insisted that I would go to piano lessons after school, and I went, but I hated it so much.
One time, when I was young, I went to our town’s Rabbi to study my bible quotes for my Bar Mitzvah, and the Rabbi was old and all important with his white beard and big hat, and I was a bit afraid of him. I studied all my lines by heart and he was proud of me. I had to sing these quotes in the synagogue in front the crowd, and I sang, and my mother and father were very proud and said I was wonderful. And I just felt embarrassed up there on the synagogue’s podium, singing words I didn’t understand.
One time, when I was young, I really believed in god.
One time, when I was young, I saw my grandmother on the street and she didn’t recognize me. She was speaking to me in a foreign language I couldn’t understand, and my dad just dragged her into the car. I had never seen my dad so sad until this day.
One time, when I was young, my mom bought me ice cream after piano lessons, and the only reason I kept going was the ice cream. After a while I lied and didn’t go to the lessons, but went for ice cream afterwards. The ice cream didn’t have the same taste. It was fake ice cream, and I knew I have to tell her the truth for the taste to come back. But I didn’t, and for three months I ate fake ice cream.
One time, when I was young, my grandmother died. I knew she was old and was dying for a long time and that her death put an end to her sufferings, but I still kept crying like a baby.
One time, when I was young but not that young, I fell in love with a woman, and I felt so happy that night when I waved her goodbye and went back to the house. I was intoxicated with love and thought she would be there forever. After three years we broke up, and I became a drunk. In those days, my mom and dad were there for me, comforting, promising a better future.
28.1.09
27.1.09
People's Poems
1
On a drunken night you can find her on the edge
of the bar
Aging like whiskey in her blue blouse
You can see her nipples through it
The tired Bartender knows her well
Better than me
She is a keeper, he says and disappears to the back room
Now it’s only her and me
God, she’s beautiful in this light
But not in every light
Tonight I’ll drink for her
I might as well
But she will drink only for herself
in silence.
2
He sat and smoked in a foreign country,
The green green grass of home,
He talked about her and the weather –
Both stormy.
The TV is on, and switching channels is a must,
Just not to get bored, escape the routine,
But he is an ordinary man, built on boredom.
There’s no solution in trading lives,
Mere smoking in a foreign country doesn’t make an adventure –
The mind is the same everywhere you go.
He wishes he could be a better person, one of those who smiles –
But he can’t. His face is stone.
3
Don goes to work every day and returns home every night
To his wife.
They don’t have children, and she is fifty.
Don’s wife could have had them, but she didn’t because of him.
She loves him, you see, and if he is barren so too is she.
So now she’s fifty and wandering what went wrong.
Instead of life there’s only Don.
Blames him for everything - lonely house that never gets messy,
Awkward silence in the mornings,
and a backyard not yet touched.
Don’s wife loves Don, but she hates herself.
Don goes to work every day and returns home every night
To his sad sad wife.
On a drunken night you can find her on the edge
of the bar
Aging like whiskey in her blue blouse
You can see her nipples through it
The tired Bartender knows her well
Better than me
She is a keeper, he says and disappears to the back room
Now it’s only her and me
God, she’s beautiful in this light
But not in every light
Tonight I’ll drink for her
I might as well
But she will drink only for herself
in silence.
2
He sat and smoked in a foreign country,
The green green grass of home,
He talked about her and the weather –
Both stormy.
The TV is on, and switching channels is a must,
Just not to get bored, escape the routine,
But he is an ordinary man, built on boredom.
There’s no solution in trading lives,
Mere smoking in a foreign country doesn’t make an adventure –
The mind is the same everywhere you go.
He wishes he could be a better person, one of those who smiles –
But he can’t. His face is stone.
3
Don goes to work every day and returns home every night
To his wife.
They don’t have children, and she is fifty.
Don’s wife could have had them, but she didn’t because of him.
She loves him, you see, and if he is barren so too is she.
So now she’s fifty and wandering what went wrong.
Instead of life there’s only Don.
Blames him for everything - lonely house that never gets messy,
Awkward silence in the mornings,
and a backyard not yet touched.
Don’s wife loves Don, but she hates herself.
Don goes to work every day and returns home every night
To his sad sad wife.
26.1.09
Grand Illusion
(Directed by Jean Renoir, France 1937)
Filmmaking, unlike other fields of art, is a work of fake and illusion. We know that the events that take place on the big screen are not real. In other art forms like painting and sculpture there are fakes and forgeries, while in the film business there’s no such thing. The term ‘fake movie’ doesn’t exist in our vocabulary. It’s all fake, and that’s the beauty of it - the illusion of cinema.
“Illusion is an erroneous perception of reality or belief”, says the definition according to the dictionary, and my general assumption is that Jean Renoir would have probably agreed with that definition. In his great masterpiece, ‘Grand Illusion’, he uses the art form of illusion to present his own perspective about life, friendship, love, nature, borders, and especially war. I’d like to examine these various aspects and try to understand what these illusions are, according to Renoir.
The strong memorable image of the last scene of ‘Grand Illusion’ describes the two heroes, Lieutenant Marechal, played by Jean Gabin, and Lieutenant Rosenthal, played by Marcel Dalio, struggling their way in the deep snow, surrounded by scenic forests and mountains. They cross the border to the safe soil of Switzerland, but there’s no ‘physical’ border. It’s an illusion. The beauty of nature is on both sides and by setting the scene there, Renoir states his belief about the stupidity of barbwires and borders, and shows his enormous respect for the great outdoors.
In the first part of the film, a friendship between a German Captain, played exquisitely by Eric Von Stroheim, and a French Captain takes place. Despite the fact that a horrific war is going on, and by all standards they should be foes, a gentlemen’s friendship engages these two Captains in their own world, their own illusion. In one of the peaks of the film, the French Captain De Boeldieu, played by Pierre Fresnay, makes a choice and prefers his French real friends to the illusive friendship with the German Captain. This decision costs him in his life, but saves the lives of his friends.
Moreover, there’s another aspect of illusion in the French Captain story. In order to help his friends escape from the camp, he has to cause some sort of distraction. Renoir chooses to cause it by the sweet sound of flutes. That choice is not arbitrary, and, in my opinion, Renoir refers to the famous allegory tale ‘The Pied Piper of Hamelin’. Captain de Boeldieu runs around the camp, playing the flute like a modern version of the pied piper, and the German soldiers, like confused mice, follow him. This absurd situation in the prisoners’ camp emphasizes the surrealistic nature of war and captivity. The German soldiers are captivated by the music of one of their prisoners. Having demonstrated that, Renoir asks a really big question; who is the prisoner? The jailer or the criminal? In this moment of magic music there are no boundaries – the illusion is in its prime.
The comic element in ‘Grand Illusion’ is well felt throughout the film, despite the fact that this is a ‘war movie’. In one of the early scenes, the prisoners of the camp wear women clothes and organize a show. I think there is more to it than a comic relief. The fact that there are no women in the camp makes the French prisoners invent them. They create an illusion that everything is normal in the camp; there are good-looking girls; there’s entertainment; there’s good food. They’re trying to create an illusion that will make them believe they’ve never left Paris.
In the second part of ‘Grand Illusion’, a love story takes place. Lieutenant Marechal and Lieutenant Rosenthal encounter Elsa, the main female character in the film (other female characters are very small and almost insignificant; it seems that Elsa is the only woman in the film). Elsa, played by Dita Parlo, is a German farm woman, who hides the two French fugitives in her farm. They find one gentle soul in a hostile country. Is she really that humane? Is it just an illusion? Would she turn them in to the authorities? Renoir answers these questions by using the power of love. Lieutenant Marechal and Elsa fall in love, and for a minute it seems they would live forever in this peaceful dwelling. This is another illusion, because they both know that the current ideal situation can’t continue for long.
One of the most powerful points of ‘Grand Illusion’ takes place towards the end, when the two French lieutenants watch the unseen border that symbolizes their freedom. They wonder out loud how they hope this would be the last war. One of them wishes and believes that there won’t be another one. Of course, it’s a grand illusion. Wars will never end, and we always wish that this war would be the last. The big illusion is the naivete of people that think that this will be the last.
In conclusion, there are many layers in ‘Grand Illusion’. It seems that Renoir created a work of art with an extraordinary depth. As you reveal the core of the film, you realize how complicated, subtle, humane, and prophetic this film is. On a personal note, I’ve seen ‘Grand Illusion’ twice. The first time was five years ago, and the second time was a week ago. In between I have served for three years in the Israeli Army. I remember how confused I was after watching it for the first time. I didn’t realize what Renoir has tried to express. After experiencing the ‘Army life’, I’ve gained a better understanding about Renoir’s statements. I realized borders are only lines that interrupt nature, and in wars people die without any sensible reason. I wish I could stay in a state of grand illusion, and think that this war is definitely the last one, but we, and Renoir, know better not to fall into that trap.
Filmmaking, unlike other fields of art, is a work of fake and illusion. We know that the events that take place on the big screen are not real. In other art forms like painting and sculpture there are fakes and forgeries, while in the film business there’s no such thing. The term ‘fake movie’ doesn’t exist in our vocabulary. It’s all fake, and that’s the beauty of it - the illusion of cinema.
“Illusion is an erroneous perception of reality or belief”, says the definition according to the dictionary, and my general assumption is that Jean Renoir would have probably agreed with that definition. In his great masterpiece, ‘Grand Illusion’, he uses the art form of illusion to present his own perspective about life, friendship, love, nature, borders, and especially war. I’d like to examine these various aspects and try to understand what these illusions are, according to Renoir.
The strong memorable image of the last scene of ‘Grand Illusion’ describes the two heroes, Lieutenant Marechal, played by Jean Gabin, and Lieutenant Rosenthal, played by Marcel Dalio, struggling their way in the deep snow, surrounded by scenic forests and mountains. They cross the border to the safe soil of Switzerland, but there’s no ‘physical’ border. It’s an illusion. The beauty of nature is on both sides and by setting the scene there, Renoir states his belief about the stupidity of barbwires and borders, and shows his enormous respect for the great outdoors.
In the first part of the film, a friendship between a German Captain, played exquisitely by Eric Von Stroheim, and a French Captain takes place. Despite the fact that a horrific war is going on, and by all standards they should be foes, a gentlemen’s friendship engages these two Captains in their own world, their own illusion. In one of the peaks of the film, the French Captain De Boeldieu, played by Pierre Fresnay, makes a choice and prefers his French real friends to the illusive friendship with the German Captain. This decision costs him in his life, but saves the lives of his friends.
Moreover, there’s another aspect of illusion in the French Captain story. In order to help his friends escape from the camp, he has to cause some sort of distraction. Renoir chooses to cause it by the sweet sound of flutes. That choice is not arbitrary, and, in my opinion, Renoir refers to the famous allegory tale ‘The Pied Piper of Hamelin’. Captain de Boeldieu runs around the camp, playing the flute like a modern version of the pied piper, and the German soldiers, like confused mice, follow him. This absurd situation in the prisoners’ camp emphasizes the surrealistic nature of war and captivity. The German soldiers are captivated by the music of one of their prisoners. Having demonstrated that, Renoir asks a really big question; who is the prisoner? The jailer or the criminal? In this moment of magic music there are no boundaries – the illusion is in its prime.
The comic element in ‘Grand Illusion’ is well felt throughout the film, despite the fact that this is a ‘war movie’. In one of the early scenes, the prisoners of the camp wear women clothes and organize a show. I think there is more to it than a comic relief. The fact that there are no women in the camp makes the French prisoners invent them. They create an illusion that everything is normal in the camp; there are good-looking girls; there’s entertainment; there’s good food. They’re trying to create an illusion that will make them believe they’ve never left Paris.
In the second part of ‘Grand Illusion’, a love story takes place. Lieutenant Marechal and Lieutenant Rosenthal encounter Elsa, the main female character in the film (other female characters are very small and almost insignificant; it seems that Elsa is the only woman in the film). Elsa, played by Dita Parlo, is a German farm woman, who hides the two French fugitives in her farm. They find one gentle soul in a hostile country. Is she really that humane? Is it just an illusion? Would she turn them in to the authorities? Renoir answers these questions by using the power of love. Lieutenant Marechal and Elsa fall in love, and for a minute it seems they would live forever in this peaceful dwelling. This is another illusion, because they both know that the current ideal situation can’t continue for long.
One of the most powerful points of ‘Grand Illusion’ takes place towards the end, when the two French lieutenants watch the unseen border that symbolizes their freedom. They wonder out loud how they hope this would be the last war. One of them wishes and believes that there won’t be another one. Of course, it’s a grand illusion. Wars will never end, and we always wish that this war would be the last. The big illusion is the naivete of people that think that this will be the last.
In conclusion, there are many layers in ‘Grand Illusion’. It seems that Renoir created a work of art with an extraordinary depth. As you reveal the core of the film, you realize how complicated, subtle, humane, and prophetic this film is. On a personal note, I’ve seen ‘Grand Illusion’ twice. The first time was five years ago, and the second time was a week ago. In between I have served for three years in the Israeli Army. I remember how confused I was after watching it for the first time. I didn’t realize what Renoir has tried to express. After experiencing the ‘Army life’, I’ve gained a better understanding about Renoir’s statements. I realized borders are only lines that interrupt nature, and in wars people die without any sensible reason. I wish I could stay in a state of grand illusion, and think that this war is definitely the last one, but we, and Renoir, know better not to fall into that trap.
25.1.09
The Six States Solution
Obama, my radical friend, let me introduce you to the pains of the Middle East. Maybe you have seen the images of exploding buses in Tel Aviv and exploding children in Gaza, but this is only the special effects, and this cannot compensate the lack of script, the lack of vision, and the lack of hope in the region. Despair and hatred have over flown a long time ago. There is no solution except of stagnation. They will all tell you that – Zionists and Islamists alike – they will all engrave pain on their foreheads, trying to compare which one suffers more.
So I proudly present the Swiss version of survival and coexistence – but with walls, barbwires, checkpoints, and fear: so no two states solution but six –
1. Tel Aviv and the Coastline - - - The Economic/Democratic powerhouse state, AKA the rich bitch.
2. The Gaza Strip - - - A new strip is born and it's very far from Vegas - an Islamic run state in the glorious tradition of the region. No gambling on money, only human lives will take into consideration. AKA the crazy bitch.
3. Galilee and the North - - - Arab villages alongside Jewish villages, all in an effort to make a buck on Christian pilgrims. AKA the 'Jesus freak' bitch.
4. The Negev Desert - - - A sister state to the laid back Sinai Peninsula. A Bedouin entity with no statehood. They will smuggle everything for the other bitches in the region. They might legalize Marijuana as well. AKA the 'Hot N' Dry' bitch.
5. Jerusalem - - - A Masterpiece of walls, checkpoints, and hate. I think enough said about this wonderland. AKA the holy bitch.
6. The West Bank - - - The work force of the rich bitch. Lovely Arabs that understand Money. AKA the exploited bitch.
The six will form the United States of the Middle East, AKA USME (pronounced Use-Me). An elected Israeli-Arab president will handle it all.
Too radical for you my friend? It worked in Switzerland… but we're not watchmakers. We are Zionists and Islamists and Nationalists and Communists and Fascists and racists, but we're not radicals like the Swiss. We will do the best of our ability to remain divided, and we will not make watches! Time is too unifying. Hence, the pain remains. And the sick states of the Middle East will not be cured.
So I proudly present the Swiss version of survival and coexistence – but with walls, barbwires, checkpoints, and fear: so no two states solution but six –
1. Tel Aviv and the Coastline - - - The Economic/Democratic powerhouse state, AKA the rich bitch.
2. The Gaza Strip - - - A new strip is born and it's very far from Vegas - an Islamic run state in the glorious tradition of the region. No gambling on money, only human lives will take into consideration. AKA the crazy bitch.
3. Galilee and the North - - - Arab villages alongside Jewish villages, all in an effort to make a buck on Christian pilgrims. AKA the 'Jesus freak' bitch.
4. The Negev Desert - - - A sister state to the laid back Sinai Peninsula. A Bedouin entity with no statehood. They will smuggle everything for the other bitches in the region. They might legalize Marijuana as well. AKA the 'Hot N' Dry' bitch.
5. Jerusalem - - - A Masterpiece of walls, checkpoints, and hate. I think enough said about this wonderland. AKA the holy bitch.
6. The West Bank - - - The work force of the rich bitch. Lovely Arabs that understand Money. AKA the exploited bitch.
The six will form the United States of the Middle East, AKA USME (pronounced Use-Me). An elected Israeli-Arab president will handle it all.
Too radical for you my friend? It worked in Switzerland… but we're not watchmakers. We are Zionists and Islamists and Nationalists and Communists and Fascists and racists, but we're not radicals like the Swiss. We will do the best of our ability to remain divided, and we will not make watches! Time is too unifying. Hence, the pain remains. And the sick states of the Middle East will not be cured.
22.1.09
Chase, Morgan Chase
It's the economy, fool! Oh yea, the Great Great depression is here so they say -
unemployment on the rise, consumerism on the low, and our elected savior is in the middle trying to seek the remedy. And all people are afraid worldwide!
"Are you going to Lose everything?"
"Most certainly, I might."
"Are you going to Lose everything to the banks?"
"Mmmm, the banks? I thought the big three are collapsing as we speak."
"Big three?"
"Citi, America, and Chase."
"And they can't collect?"
"Collect what? I'm broke!"
"What about your hybrid car? What about the lodge in Aspen? And I don't even mention your 10K golf clubs…"
"Citi and America won't touch it. They got bigger fish to fry. But Chase… I don't know about Chase. This bank is like the James Bond of banks, reemerging as lethal when on harm's way."
"No quantum of solace?"
"They can hunt you like a motherfucker. No solace. Maybe a bullet!"
It's the banks, fool! They got too greedy… (If it's even possible) … But don't worry about them, they are going to remake themselves by chasing the people, Obama's people, and claim any last penny before they get sterilized.
unemployment on the rise, consumerism on the low, and our elected savior is in the middle trying to seek the remedy. And all people are afraid worldwide!
"Are you going to Lose everything?"
"Most certainly, I might."
"Are you going to Lose everything to the banks?"
"Mmmm, the banks? I thought the big three are collapsing as we speak."
"Big three?"
"Citi, America, and Chase."
"And they can't collect?"
"Collect what? I'm broke!"
"What about your hybrid car? What about the lodge in Aspen? And I don't even mention your 10K golf clubs…"
"Citi and America won't touch it. They got bigger fish to fry. But Chase… I don't know about Chase. This bank is like the James Bond of banks, reemerging as lethal when on harm's way."
"No quantum of solace?"
"They can hunt you like a motherfucker. No solace. Maybe a bullet!"
It's the banks, fool! They got too greedy… (If it's even possible) … But don't worry about them, they are going to remake themselves by chasing the people, Obama's people, and claim any last penny before they get sterilized.
21.1.09
A Medic's Life
Silence. Neither a sound nor a squeak came to my ears, just a blurred set of actions took place around me. It was like a movie, with one big exception – I was in it, smelling, touching, feeling, with no option to get out of the theatre, or even close my eyes during the scary parts. The sheer immensity of the situation, of this one unforgettable morning, changed me forever, and the implications on my faith and destiny resulted in far-reaching consequences, which shaked my whole basic foundation as a person.
I served in the army as a medic in an infantry unit, inspired by Hemingway and his “A Farewell To Arms”, motivated, like all novice enthusiastic soldiers, by strong patriotic feelings, and encouraged to live acording to the old cliché of ‘The power to heal, not to kill’. At the first Spring of my service, my unit transferred to a small army camp, containing just a few shacks, right beside the northern border of Israel. A pastoral scenic view filled every corner of the camp, revealing deep blue mediterranean sea and a bright golden sun, and gave the impression of pure tranquility – an impression that’s going to change unexpectedly, in the most radical manner.
I was eating my breakfast at the dining hall, when, out of the blue, a vague noise of gun shots appeared in the distance. I thought nothing of it, and kept eating my conventional breakfast quietly. Only when my friend entered the dining hall, and told me he heard the shots coming out of one of the shacks I rushed out immediately, leaving all behind. Soldiers ran haphazardly out of that shack, terrified and confused, shouting hysterically for a medic. I walked the opposite way straight into the shack. The first image I saw was dreadful, it was like million knives stabbing every inch of my skin – a dead soldier lying on the corridor’s floor, his head covered in a big pool of blood.
Standing there, helpless, waiting for a secret sign that would help me to snap out of this enormous shock, was one of the most arduous situations of my life. It seemed to last forever, but after a few seconds I ran towards the dead body and examined for any sign of life. There was no pulse. Suddenly, terrible shouts came out of the nearby room. I peeped into the room and saw one of the medics of our unit, a man I had known and respected, lying on the floor shaking, and holding his stomach. I ran outside as fast as I could in order to bring my medical accessories, and try to save the medic’s life.
When I got back with my equipment, the Doctor and two other medics were already there. I could see their petrified faces as they were trying to figure out how to save the medic’s life, and prevent this sorrowful tragedy. I joined the crew, following blindly after the Doctor’s orders. I couldn’t speak during that scene. I don’t know why. I guess it was too quick, too cruel, too shocking, too realistic, and maybe too much for me. Just a blurred set of actions.
As he was screaming the name of his girlfriend frantically, everybody quit their deeds for a second, watching desperately his agonized face. One of the medics tried to convince him everything would be fine, and he would see his girlfriend many times, but when he lost consciousness, a real panic dispersed all over the room, and the efforts to save his life reached to its most crucial stage.
After the Helicopter left, with the wounded medic on it, struggling for his life, the sense of shock didn’t leave me, and the acute images of that awful scene refused to disappear from my head. I went through those moments with my mind in a fog, trying to figure out what really happened in that shack. The answer was simple in its cruelty. Apparently those two soldiers had a small dispute about their guarding shifts, and this ‘matter of no importance’ led them into a whirling vortex of violence. The medic broke the other soldier’s nose, and ran away to his shack. As an act of revenge the other soldier chased the medic to his room, took three shots at him with his personal gun, and then killed himself with the same weapon.
I’ve never thought how a small, mindless argument can lead to such devastating consequences, and how the animal nature of the human kind can easily be revealed. The silly dissent, that could have been solved peaceably, unfortunately, caused the worst nightmare of any army – two soldiers who instead of fighting the enemy, fight each other.
This story has a sad ending. The wounded medic didn’t make it and died in the hospital. We hadn’t managed to save his life. I hadn’t managed to save his life.
A big military funeral took place the day after, and I saw his family and friends crying for their beloved deceased. I saw his girlfriend, delicate and pale, trying to hold her tears back unsuccessfully. I saw her face and I heard his screams from yesterday. I couldn’t perceive anything else – just her face and his screams. Maybe I could have done more at the scene to save his life, and this whole tragedy would have been averted – but I didn’t, and the pain in this young girl’s heart as well as the pain in my heart will last forever.
I served in the army as a medic in an infantry unit, inspired by Hemingway and his “A Farewell To Arms”, motivated, like all novice enthusiastic soldiers, by strong patriotic feelings, and encouraged to live acording to the old cliché of ‘The power to heal, not to kill’. At the first Spring of my service, my unit transferred to a small army camp, containing just a few shacks, right beside the northern border of Israel. A pastoral scenic view filled every corner of the camp, revealing deep blue mediterranean sea and a bright golden sun, and gave the impression of pure tranquility – an impression that’s going to change unexpectedly, in the most radical manner.
I was eating my breakfast at the dining hall, when, out of the blue, a vague noise of gun shots appeared in the distance. I thought nothing of it, and kept eating my conventional breakfast quietly. Only when my friend entered the dining hall, and told me he heard the shots coming out of one of the shacks I rushed out immediately, leaving all behind. Soldiers ran haphazardly out of that shack, terrified and confused, shouting hysterically for a medic. I walked the opposite way straight into the shack. The first image I saw was dreadful, it was like million knives stabbing every inch of my skin – a dead soldier lying on the corridor’s floor, his head covered in a big pool of blood.
Standing there, helpless, waiting for a secret sign that would help me to snap out of this enormous shock, was one of the most arduous situations of my life. It seemed to last forever, but after a few seconds I ran towards the dead body and examined for any sign of life. There was no pulse. Suddenly, terrible shouts came out of the nearby room. I peeped into the room and saw one of the medics of our unit, a man I had known and respected, lying on the floor shaking, and holding his stomach. I ran outside as fast as I could in order to bring my medical accessories, and try to save the medic’s life.
When I got back with my equipment, the Doctor and two other medics were already there. I could see their petrified faces as they were trying to figure out how to save the medic’s life, and prevent this sorrowful tragedy. I joined the crew, following blindly after the Doctor’s orders. I couldn’t speak during that scene. I don’t know why. I guess it was too quick, too cruel, too shocking, too realistic, and maybe too much for me. Just a blurred set of actions.
As he was screaming the name of his girlfriend frantically, everybody quit their deeds for a second, watching desperately his agonized face. One of the medics tried to convince him everything would be fine, and he would see his girlfriend many times, but when he lost consciousness, a real panic dispersed all over the room, and the efforts to save his life reached to its most crucial stage.
After the Helicopter left, with the wounded medic on it, struggling for his life, the sense of shock didn’t leave me, and the acute images of that awful scene refused to disappear from my head. I went through those moments with my mind in a fog, trying to figure out what really happened in that shack. The answer was simple in its cruelty. Apparently those two soldiers had a small dispute about their guarding shifts, and this ‘matter of no importance’ led them into a whirling vortex of violence. The medic broke the other soldier’s nose, and ran away to his shack. As an act of revenge the other soldier chased the medic to his room, took three shots at him with his personal gun, and then killed himself with the same weapon.
I’ve never thought how a small, mindless argument can lead to such devastating consequences, and how the animal nature of the human kind can easily be revealed. The silly dissent, that could have been solved peaceably, unfortunately, caused the worst nightmare of any army – two soldiers who instead of fighting the enemy, fight each other.
This story has a sad ending. The wounded medic didn’t make it and died in the hospital. We hadn’t managed to save his life. I hadn’t managed to save his life.
A big military funeral took place the day after, and I saw his family and friends crying for their beloved deceased. I saw his girlfriend, delicate and pale, trying to hold her tears back unsuccessfully. I saw her face and I heard his screams from yesterday. I couldn’t perceive anything else – just her face and his screams. Maybe I could have done more at the scene to save his life, and this whole tragedy would have been averted – but I didn’t, and the pain in this young girl’s heart as well as the pain in my heart will last forever.
20.1.09
Obama is Green
Everyone wants hope, and "Hope", says Obama, and we all on our toes.
I remember a different black man saying "Hope is a dangerous thing. Hope can drive a man insane." That was Morgan Freeman as Red, the unforgettable 1994 life-time prisoner of the movies. He was Black too. Or so it seems.
We are all excited of the thought that a black man is going to run the world. But I don't think Obama is black. And it's not a race issue. George Washington was green. Andrew Jackson was green. Even
Obama has to be green. It's in his blood as an American President. His first challenge is to solve the crisis in the bloody financial world. Will he make it? He has too; a failure will not be found in the brand new "out of the box" president's dictionary. But till then, he is green - pale green as the Dollar.
Only when the Green Dollar will make its comeback in full capacity - and only then - Obama could be black again.
19.1.09
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