It is rare for me to do this. Matters of war and the aftermath of it usually make me go silent about them, or better yet, ignored. I don’t want to know about them. I don’t want to hear about them. I don’t want to look at them.
The term ‘ignorant is bliss’ cannot be any more damn true.
It is profoundly sad, depressing, heart breaking and elicit hopelessness to its worst. It makes you angry. Frustrated. Disgusted.
That is why I evade them before they enter my thoughts, eyes and ears, because it makes me SICK to the deepest pits of my stomach.
I admit that I am ignorant of the history, the facts and the hidden truths. I DID make efforts before to educate myself, be it buying books and magazines, or attending mass gatherings. But all in vain when at the end of the day, I couldn’t take it any more. I had enough.
I took in some bits and pieces of information and I left the rest at that. They are now all jumbled up in my head, having no trail of connection from one to the other and they are clearly remote from making any sense. I didn’t care then. I wanted to run away from every little thing that has any form of relation to these matters.
Because it hurts.
But I cannot be that child anymore.
The last Israeli-Gaza war of 2009 was a hideous massacre. As devastating as it was, it was just a mass murder. Before you blatantly kill me yourself, let me further explain. The war was inevitable. It happened. Innocent civilians of fine men, women, children and elderly were mercilessly killed. Yet as I see it, it is better to be dead.
It is better for the fine men to expire than them seeing their wives, children and close friends being taken away from them or injured to the point of death, or die in front of their eyes, battered and drenched in their own blood.
It is better for the fine women to pass on away than to witness their husbands being blown to pieces or watch their sons and daughters without their limbs crying, screaming in agony, if not dead in their arms.
It is better for the fine children to be forever in slumber than to be terrified, traumatised from watching their parents’ humiliated and abused in torture, gunned with dozens of bullets through them or unexpectedly die while they tightly held their children in embrace by means of protection.
It is better for the fine elderly to exhale their last breaths than witnessing their families torn apart in mass killings, or having to feel sunken in sheer hopelessness and hating themselves for their limitations of old age to protect their children and grandchildren before they were harmed or shot dead.
Because life hurts.
I personally wouldn’t mind being dead myself, it’s just I’m afraid of my life luggage that is still haven’t fully packed yet for me to meet my Creator. But who am I to say this, when He could have booked me an early one-way ticket without the chance to finish packing.
And it hurts agonisingly when the Israelis attacked the Freedom Flotilla, the very source to nurture life back in Gaza. To violate the cause of aid to life is completely revolting, unforgivable and inhumane. It has sicken me so severely to the extent that my very heart throbs in turbulence enough to wrench me out of my ignorant bliss and vent this out on this blog, which is something I haven’t done before for such a current world situation. It has moved me to this. The feeling I experienced watching this news on TV and reading it in pamphlets is unfathomable.
May the innocents be saved and protected. May those responsible be served equal damage to what they have done.
Amin.
The Free Gaza Movement website, here.
Current state: Nauseated
