“The brave fight of Palestinian People”



These days I feel sad, powerless. I wish I could do something.

I get a call for a manifestation, today at 18.00 PM, to protest against Israeli bombing over Gaza. I consider the idea of going, maybe it will wash my conscience. I read the call, it ends up: “We call anyone who supports the brave fight of Palestinian People”. My sadness grows. It’s not for me.

I’m thinking about the beloved sheeps of Popeye, the Spinachova people who do not want to join the war at all. They stare at Popeye urging them to defend the attacked Homeland, and laugh at him: You crazy? Bravery is a form of madness, we are sane boys!

I wish I could do something together with the other people like me, who don’t give a fuck about the brave fight of the Palestinian people, and just wish the end of all the bombing, the massacres, and the decade-lasting siege. Those who just wish that everybody could have a normal, boring life with schools, commerce, hospitals and work. All those people who think that courage can be a sad necessity, but mostly  it’s nothing but an illness, an excess of hormones in the blood. I wish I could do something with those like me, that particularly hate  the keyboard-braves, those who, far away from the bombs, get excited by the brave fights happening hundreds of kilometers away.

I wish I could do something with those who hate the brave fighters of both sides. I imagine how many Palestinians can’t stand any longer being a brave fighting people, and curse all who carried on this escalation.

I wish I could do something with those like me, who consider all that’s going on an intolerable, criminal massacre, who think that bombing a city is  an unjustifiable act in any case, regarless who and why committed it, and that specifically bombing one of the most densely populated areas in the world may in no way be considered a legitimate act of war, even admitting that war may have any kind of legitimacy.

My mind goes to the bombed, refugees, wounded, defaced, mutilated, to all those who suffered the loss of some beloved ones, and I just feel like weeping for all of them. It’s not a politically evolved thought, I know. Who cares. My mind goes to those who try to relieve all this suffering, risking their own lives and safety: the only form of courage I respect.

Today I will do the only thing I find senseful: I’ll make a donation to MSF.





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