Saturday, January 15, 2005 - I LOVE MANKIND, IT'S THE PEOPLE I CAN'T STAND
Maybe I have been idealizing my fellow islanders too much. So much so, that I forgot they are only human after all, nor better nor worse from the rest of human race. I took them for granted for all these years as being peace loving, soft and tolerant folk, incapable of any violence.
But couple of days ago Mr. Hyde side of human nature emerged; in short some of my island folk went mad.
It so happens that on a Forbidden Island dwells one group of people you will not run into so easy. The island is small indeed but you can easily live your life here completely oblivious to their existence.
These people usually have very dark skin and they come from Africa, they are very poor and the only thing they have in abundance is the hope for a better life. Here In Europe we call them illegal immigrants. They live amongst us silently. Occasionally an odd article in newspapers stirs the surface, but then they quickly go back to oblivion. They are kept on the island as detainees. This being temporary solution to a problem without a solution.
On one hand we have these people swarming towards Europe as locusts, but unlike locust that rely on wind in search for new pastures these human beings spend all their life savings in the perilous attempt to cross the sea and start a new life in the promised land. Also very often these attempts end in tragedy.
On the other hand average inhabitant of the promised land shudders with innate fear when thinking of this constant invasion. This is especialy true for our tiny island where the space is so scarce, standing solitary on the forefront of such invasion.
In any case, our island most certainly is not their intended destination, but many end up here and they cannot go further. Those whose identity and country of domicile can be established are duly sent back but great number of them somehow manage to hide their true identity. Some of them are genuine refugeees fleeing from the war torn countries and some of them are just economic migrants.
It's a sort of a stall mate. Island cannot afford to have such a great number of immigrants and also there is fear that this would be a welcoming signal for the others.
Therefore someone has found Solomonic solution and they are being immediatly confined within the detention center, until their applications for refugee status are resolved. At first this sounds like a good solution and its already streching the limits of the 2nd most densly populated area in the world . But in reality this is a lengthy process and some of them have been there for years, forgotten, slowly losing their mind in the shadows of our society.
The other aspect of this story is the fact that according to some statistics more than 500 people per year perish in the seas around the island. That's a lot , and on average it translates to 1 person a day.
I immediately think of all those careless days splashing in the sea or sipping cocktails on the shore completely oblivious to the fact that somewhere near, under that same beautiful sea fish might be feasting on remains of some human being.
And then there is this little story:
Elaine is a socialite who celebrates her birthday at the and of the summer. This is the barbeque of all barbeques, usually taking place on the remote sandy beach. Firstly it is the end of the summer and this is the last barbeque of the season. Secondly, these barbeques are events not to be missed by any serious socialite.And thirdly, last but not the least, Elaine knows the good food. Therefore everyone is looking forward to this event for weeks in advance.
Last time the celebration was in the full swing, everyone was tipsy, stretching around the bonfire, giggling. The moon was high and almost full, mirrored in the slightly agitated sea. All of the sudden, out of a tin air, a boat berths on the beach with a thud.
Boat filled to the brink with people. Men, women, children, dark as the night.
Both parties are shocked. They are looking at each other with eyes wide open, frozen.
Clash of two worlds.
In no time there are helicopters with spotlights above the beach followed by police vehicles swarming downhill towards the beach.
In the matter of seconds the immigrants are rounded like sheep and they disappear from the beach. In lesss than half an hour it appears that no such drama has ever taken place on the beach. Needles to say, Elaine's birthday is ruined there and then, once and for all.
Yesterday the immigrants staged a protest. They broke out and sat in the field, holding banners. They ignored armed forces repeated warnings to go back into the detention area. One thing led to another and as usually happens in the events like this, amongst us humans from earth, the military applied force.
So what, you would think, what is a little force in this world where people are being killed like flies either by their own brethren or by tsunami.
Nevertheless when I opened the newspaper yesterday and saw pictures of soldiers kicking the heads of helpless people like footballs I felt a pang of pain in my stomach and something got stuck in my throat. I quickly swallowed it, grabbed my jacket and went out in the sun.
These images soon disappeared while I was admiring strange cloud shapes in the sky.
But last night I had a wierdest dream, I was a prisoner in Aushwitz and there was prince Harry in Nazi uniform, paying us a visit accompanied by his big eared father.
I woke up with a sweaty brow.
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Most of the times I am just the android dreaming of the electric sheep, but there are times when I am not, then I write here.
Cant help but quote exceptional Kia:
