We’re just the audience! [Archives:2007/1111/Community]
By: Salwa Yehia Al-Eryani
When the events you experience throughout your day rest on land just shaken by an earthquake, it's a little silly to try to arrange what you'll do tomorrow or how you'll spend your next summer.
When your days fight each other like waves in an angry, frustrated ocean, then it's a bit ridiculous to imagine yourself floating with closed eyes on the surface of the sea. Even imaging yourself relaxing under the shade of an umbrella on the beach and reading or listening to music is a little difficult.
When the entirety of your life is stuck inside a narrow bottleneck, dreaming of a deep sigh is simply impossible.
All of these thoughts and imaginations were pricking me like needles from all directions. They were hurting so much that I wanted to yell, “Ow!”
I wonder who made our expected dreams bleed to death? Who broke, plastered and then made our days walk like a cripple? You gambler, quit messing around with our precious goals!
I was standing on the balcony of our flat. I don't know why I dared to stand there that night because in Yemen, balconies are built for demons to receive their guests. I stood there before sunset, not bothering about whether someone may pass and see me. Or maybe I felt safe and assured that our flat is in a quiet, residential area and it's very rare for people walk there. Only cars pass by hurriedly, rushing toward nothing but getting out of breath nonetheless.
My previous thoughts once again plunged me into the world of hopelessness with its bitter taste. I saw the door to my flat as a person hanging with a rope around it. These days, rents are very high, so I may no longer be able to pay it. Where on earth would I go with my tribe consisting of my husband and six children?
The expenses of food, drink, clothing, medicine, education and many other things I saw hanging beside our flat's door. I saw the poor father – the sole source of income – hanging too. I saw an onion, a potato and a tomato hanging there alongside the many other things we were about to lose.
Food is beginning to be a serious problem. Staying alive is a necessity for all living things, but it's becoming an illegitimate necessity. Now what will we do? Nothing but sigh and then enter a long hibernation, after which we wake up feeling tired and experiencing a soreness in our souls.
There is injury in being sure that we've never solved a problem or stopped an injustice nor intended to correct any mistake. How can we, when we are such people, respect ourselves or make others, including our children, respect us? Why would our children appreciate our gifts to them when we fail to even beautify their future or reach out our hands to support them?
My flat's balcony directly faces a large plot of land, around which the owner has tried several times to build a wall. However, each time he builds it, some enemy comes and breaks it to pieces. Because this has happened so many times, we the residents no longer can remember how many times it has occurred.
The landowner and the man who bought it have disagreed several times and as a result, the wall has been built and shattered regularly. These two sides simply are playing and messing around, with no one to stop or even question them.
We the residents are watching a live movie without paying any money or buying any tickets for it. Twice, the problem has included shooting, which occurred when a second owner for the land showed up, not mentioning the first battle between the buyer and the original owner or the seller. This second owner said the first owner had forcefully taken a handful of his soil. They initiated a stubborn struggle, which was both childish and evil at the same time.
Numerous sheikhs came to the cinema, meaning the land, to try to solve the problem peacefully, but all failed to do so. Many cars arrived at that poor piece of land carrying many old and young men with weapons.
With my female eye, I used to examine some of those young guards with guns on their backs. How could their lives be so cheap? They're content to sell themselves for YR 1,000 a day, but what if a battle occurs? What will YR 1,000 do when they're facing bullets? They'll lose their lives, their youth, their families and their dreams, if they happen to have any.
What kind of culture do these poor young men believe in? Or is it simply the culture of poverty? Selling their day for YR 1,000 and sleeping inside cars all night with their guns behind their backs certainly is a great deal for the buyer, just like the girl who stands on the street, willing to go with any stranger in his car as soon as he gives her money.
I guess that's it. The man in the car takes away the girl's innocence and virginity just as the landowner takes away these guards' lives.
Suddenly, I heard a tremendous explosion followed by heavy shooting. I guessed that as soon as the guards heard the explosion, they'd become so nervous and confused that they'd probably shoot each other, that being the normal reaction of one expecting to be shot dead and wanting to defend himself.
I felt my knees buckle and I fell to the ground. I couldn't run. I sat for awhile like a Greek statue before running inside and hiding in the bathroom, which was on the other side of the house and away from the shooting. I heard yelling, crying and the noise of things breaking and glass shattering.
On my way to the bathroom, I had grabbed and taken my children with me. I now heard their hearts beating like drums and their lips were blue. Our whole family was hiding in the bathroom.
If one can't feel safe in the bathroom of his own home, then where can he? Torturing the innocent and stealing away others' safety – isn't that worth a battle between the government and those doing this crime? If that isn't worth it then, excuse me, what is?
Because we're neither the sellers nor the buyers, this deal is none of our business. So why on earth are we suffering? What did we do? Several years ago, people here and even outside Yemen fought against increased prices, especially for bread and petrol, as well as against unemployment.
People fight against many things; it's a normal feature of life. It's normal to have demands. It's normal to object and refuse. These are fights people tolerate willingly because it's their fight. However, this fighting over land that others live near and for which they must pay their lives is a very unfair fight.
Since when does the audience die in a Western action or whatever type of movie?! Since when is the audience forced to get involved in the movie? Honestly, as funny as this whole thing is, it's just as serious and tragic.
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[archive-e:1111-v:15-y:2007-d:2007-12-13-p:community]
