Ground Zero from the Cold...
I am not sure if you have ever experienced that yourself, that of belonging to another universe, speaking a different language, even though you like to believe you are part of "it" all...the "here and now" of it all.
Less than one hour's flight lies between the "statelet" (as a friend calls it) and between my Beloved, and if feels as if more than a trillion miles separate those two realities.
Can you imagine what it must feel like between another group of statelets -also known as the United States- and statelets is what they are, and my Beloved ?
I'm someone who always prided herself on what I deemed to be a "great sense of adaptability." Yet language fails me tonight.
I'm someone who strongly believed in bridges and a common heritage beyond history and culture, but then again, am taught a lesson, lesson 101 in revising long held beliefs...
I was with a group of people. I was asked to speak so I spoke...
They asked me about torture and I spoke of isolation. The different forms of torture; mental, moral, spiritual, sexual, physical and the "Stockholm syndrome."
I spoke of torture and isolation relegating you back to your infantile state where you are forced to bond with your torturer. Because that is what torture and isolation are all about. They are meant to break you and regress you to ground Zero, a ground where you will seek any attachment to life even with your own regular visiting sadist.
I spoke of rows of orphans and widows begging for food, waiting desperately for morsels to fall into a dirty disposable plate, as disposable as their lives...
I spoke of a foreigner called an American waiting to fuck a hajji "coz it's so cool and gives an awesome feeling once you finish him off."
I spoke of the Eye Raqi being a foreigner in his/her own land, considered an excess, a nuisance, easily eliminated for the sake of "peace."
I spoke of the different methods of breaking a spirit, of erasing a history, a culture...of nullifying a presence...
I spoke of every time you inhale- the most basic of vital functions- there is an invisible dust lodging in your nose, lodging in your lungs and you know you might die from it and it's called Depleted Uranium.
I spoke about every time you ingest food, you know fully well it's contaminated with poison but, being human and needing to survive, you have no choice but to ingest it, knowing fully well, it will kill you.
I spoke of how being "human" has a price attached to it, depending on your race and your religion.
I spoke of our favorite color black, because it’s the only color that expresses who we are today.
I spoke of women and girls selling themselves and yet those same people that drove them to "it" ,target them and eliminate them for not obeying rules...rules imposed by a group of men who use God as the ultimate authority when they have no legitimacy themselves.
I spoke of many things...
But it's as if I was speaking in the void, in the cold...
It's as if I was speaking from ground Zero. And Zero echo is what I got.
I am someone who not only prided herself on her "sense of adaptability" but also on her keen sense of "observation."
And I observed...I observed alright.
I saw people checking their watches even though I only had a mere 20 minutes to speak.
I saw people diverting the subject. I saw people giggling. I saw people yawning. I saw people sending messages on their cell phones...
Am no boring speaker. I go straight to the point. I don't mince words. I give it the way it is...I give it the way it ought to be given.
But these people had more "important" things to do...
They had to catch up with the latest Egyptian TV serial. The Dow Jones. The girl friend - maybe this time they will convince her to bed. The business deal to finalize. The party they had to go to, where they can "shine" and make a final impression.
In sum, they had more "important things"...
At one point, I looked at "my audience" and saw a group of skulls and bones seated on red chairs, holding a cell phone in their hands...
I looked and felt am in a cemetery.
The moderator, sensing my silence, said "Ms. Anwar you have 5 more minutes."
I replied in a zombie trance like state "Will these 5 minutes make a difference?"
I did not even bother to wrap up.
There was no wrapping up to do, it's an ongoing story happening not too far away...
This is a statelet, not too far away and these were the reactions.
Can you imagine what it must be like in the "civilized" world?
Can you imagine what it must be like in the conglomerate of pathetic statelets called the United States?
There is no more time for niceties - listen to me, look at me kind of niceties. This is the time for another manifesto.
A shake you into a fucking Iraqi oblivion manifesto from ground Zero, a manifesto from the cold...
And I have always prided myself on delivering my promises. And a promise I am making to you. You will get it. For sure, you will.
From ground Zero, from the cold, you will get it.
Warm up to the idea, now. For it's coming...
Picture: Best ever.
Less than one hour's flight lies between the "statelet" (as a friend calls it) and between my Beloved, and if feels as if more than a trillion miles separate those two realities.
Can you imagine what it must feel like between another group of statelets -also known as the United States- and statelets is what they are, and my Beloved ?
I'm someone who always prided herself on what I deemed to be a "great sense of adaptability." Yet language fails me tonight.
I'm someone who strongly believed in bridges and a common heritage beyond history and culture, but then again, am taught a lesson, lesson 101 in revising long held beliefs...
I was with a group of people. I was asked to speak so I spoke...
They asked me about torture and I spoke of isolation. The different forms of torture; mental, moral, spiritual, sexual, physical and the "Stockholm syndrome."
I spoke of torture and isolation relegating you back to your infantile state where you are forced to bond with your torturer. Because that is what torture and isolation are all about. They are meant to break you and regress you to ground Zero, a ground where you will seek any attachment to life even with your own regular visiting sadist.
I spoke of rows of orphans and widows begging for food, waiting desperately for morsels to fall into a dirty disposable plate, as disposable as their lives...
I spoke of a foreigner called an American waiting to fuck a hajji "coz it's so cool and gives an awesome feeling once you finish him off."
I spoke of the Eye Raqi being a foreigner in his/her own land, considered an excess, a nuisance, easily eliminated for the sake of "peace."
I spoke of the different methods of breaking a spirit, of erasing a history, a culture...of nullifying a presence...
I spoke of every time you inhale- the most basic of vital functions- there is an invisible dust lodging in your nose, lodging in your lungs and you know you might die from it and it's called Depleted Uranium.
I spoke about every time you ingest food, you know fully well it's contaminated with poison but, being human and needing to survive, you have no choice but to ingest it, knowing fully well, it will kill you.
I spoke of how being "human" has a price attached to it, depending on your race and your religion.
I spoke of our favorite color black, because it’s the only color that expresses who we are today.
I spoke of women and girls selling themselves and yet those same people that drove them to "it" ,target them and eliminate them for not obeying rules...rules imposed by a group of men who use God as the ultimate authority when they have no legitimacy themselves.
I spoke of many things...
But it's as if I was speaking in the void, in the cold...
It's as if I was speaking from ground Zero. And Zero echo is what I got.
I am someone who not only prided herself on her "sense of adaptability" but also on her keen sense of "observation."
And I observed...I observed alright.
I saw people checking their watches even though I only had a mere 20 minutes to speak.
I saw people diverting the subject. I saw people giggling. I saw people yawning. I saw people sending messages on their cell phones...
Am no boring speaker. I go straight to the point. I don't mince words. I give it the way it is...I give it the way it ought to be given.
But these people had more "important" things to do...
They had to catch up with the latest Egyptian TV serial. The Dow Jones. The girl friend - maybe this time they will convince her to bed. The business deal to finalize. The party they had to go to, where they can "shine" and make a final impression.
In sum, they had more "important things"...
At one point, I looked at "my audience" and saw a group of skulls and bones seated on red chairs, holding a cell phone in their hands...
I looked and felt am in a cemetery.
The moderator, sensing my silence, said "Ms. Anwar you have 5 more minutes."
I replied in a zombie trance like state "Will these 5 minutes make a difference?"
I did not even bother to wrap up.
There was no wrapping up to do, it's an ongoing story happening not too far away...
This is a statelet, not too far away and these were the reactions.
Can you imagine what it must be like in the "civilized" world?
Can you imagine what it must be like in the conglomerate of pathetic statelets called the United States?
There is no more time for niceties - listen to me, look at me kind of niceties. This is the time for another manifesto.
A shake you into a fucking Iraqi oblivion manifesto from ground Zero, a manifesto from the cold...
And I have always prided myself on delivering my promises. And a promise I am making to you. You will get it. For sure, you will.
From ground Zero, from the cold, you will get it.
Warm up to the idea, now. For it's coming...
Picture: Best ever.
Comments
Best photo or best man ?
I say all this because as an American, I have been in denial of a lot of horrible crimes committed in my name against the Iraqi people. My point about my house is that it was an accidental fire my house was not fire bombed like the Iraqi house was. The people who came to put the fire out weren’ t the ones who set it. In Iraq, it’s bad enough we destroyed it we have the gall to say we will be the ones to rebuild it. We can’t even give you the dignity to finally at least leave you alone to rebuild your country. Since Iran has joined the “party” you now have two major enemies(and lesser ones) to deal with.
I had to grit my teeth to get through your some of your posts. To get past my denial. But I have and I am finally and happly with you Layla. I don’t expect any applause or pat on the back because I have a lot to make up for. WE ALL DO. I just wanted to say I am sorry for not standing up for truth and justice in the first place. One way or another I will come up with a way to personally do something to help the Iraqi cause.
You have spoken to a bunch of shameless HYPOCRITES.
Over the far hills, brother,
You must come now and draw down
To the wells of the black tent.
Over the upright rocks,
Over the broken waves of the sand-dune,
Over the bones of the camel and the sheep,
Come brother, come down to the horse,
To the well, the well of the black tent.
***
Here I, in a long high chant,
I will set your blood singing.
Here I can show you the delicate bone
Of my wrist and my long thigh.
In a restless moment you will
Rush onward and down to the tent
Of the coloured tapestry within,
Where I lie as a knife
Offering up reflection to light.
***
Over the sensitive dawn
Knowing only the black night,
Over a moment when sound breaks
Out from the Kaaba,
Over all sudden music
That passes beyond the machine
We will travel together
Yoked as the foreign hound,
Penetrating all directions of wind
With a cry that shatters the bell.
***
No columns of metal or armies, brother,
Can forget our shape in this path.
all must pass under this shadow, this light.
No soldier of any tribe
Insolently planning to take a life
Will endure, describe or call down
The battle of war, brother.
The vision of death was a holy book
Locked with metal, tyrant of the brain...
But the meaning of life, now,
Is a secret revealed, assaulting my mind.
jocelyn braddell©
If I was in the audience, my eyes would have been drawn to you for every second and each word would have been completely absorbed for I am dying of thirst for the truth and you are a fountain...
For any fellow Americans who believe in the putrid bags of pus that pass for our leaders - I would suggest that they check out the site: www.artofmentalwarfare.com...
i can't get over the beard and him holding the quran, i wonder what he would have been like if he gave us the johnny walker and the cowboy hat before he was put in a cage. the tyrant has fallen, the fight in iraq today is about not letting the US put another tyrant for another 30 years! that is why they are fighting in my opinion.
What a rude audience. I couldn't imagine anyone thinking of your topics as boring.
Is there is a lesson to be learned here? As in no-one cares, East or West. Beyond caring.
It is the silly season (Christmas). Everyone is too busy out-doing one another, going into debt for presents.
Maybe if you offered a creditcard, more notice would be taken?
I look forward to another "Manifesto". The last series were very educational. Definitely nothing boring!
The light of one of my "story tellers" is fading very quickly, death is near. Another piece of pachwork will be missing soon.
I believe his sense of humor did Layla good.
The Qaf was convicted of Arabism and executed some time ago.
Scary!
For more scary stuff, like the history leading up to now, check out today's (11-28-07) on http://democracynow.org/streampage.pl and listen to the interview with Naomi Wolf.
"i can't get over the beard and him holding the quran"
GO SEEK PSYCHIATRIC HELP !!!
Exactly !
then dont have ears to listen
eyes to see, heart to feel.
Do they? WHERE? hidden in the bubble of denial ?
Their are full of ads
Dow Jones, yes
movies, yes
shopping, yes
ROBOTS !
they dont have a space for anything else... depressing !
You observe, true
You share, true
You give, true
Thank you my dearest Sister,
we listen to you !
Lots of love
The Shock Doctrine
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kieyjfZDUIc
the story about the film
http://www.naomiklein.org/shock-doctrine/short-film
Can you sing Blue Suede shoes?
Salam, am still waiting for the mexicam lebanese mix :-) By the time Iraq is liberated, they will stop producing teqila and arak.
Do me a favor and do it pronto. Aim high will ya? Like very high.
I don't know what you are going through, but whatever it is , I pray that it will go as smoothly as possible I wish I could say the same for myself.
If you say you're a fool, who am I to disagree with you?
Say hello to your Mrs Rambleman to me. Be well.
You are talented.
Come on over to Eye Raq and you will see the truth.
I am with you, also waiting !
Listening to you and reading your generous sharing, Thank you !
The production of arak and tequila
has to keep going and the candles should keep on ,-))
Be kind to yourself, you deserve it !
Bless you
Much love