We
usually observe the world like a board of game. These are ours. These
no. The cultural differences, the established traditions, the colour of
the skin, the cloth that covers heads and bodies induce us to approach
or to keep out of the way unconsciously from certain people or places.
For
the last 8 months, Syria has been in deep and brutal repression. It's
steadily increasing international isolation only adds to the fury of
the beast already wounded. During these months the mounting figures of
death before our eyes, more or less sensitised, made us more aware of
our world neighbours. Yesterday the statistics manifested deaths
through a young boy of 14. He
was Mohamed Abdul Salam Al Mlaessa, together with other students of a
school, were obliged by the security forces to abandon their classes so
to join the manifestation in favour of the regimen. When the child, in
the name of his other companions, communicated to the agents that they
didn't wish to take part, was brutally beaten and shot to death.
This
was seen in the digital edition of the Spanish paper, 'El Periodico'.
The adolescent face, innocent but surprised and shocked, his torso
naked and painfully thin, and his brown hair was being tenderly stoked
and caressed by his pain stricken mother's hand, incessantly,
desperately, with the awareness that no amount of gentle and tender
caress would ever bring him back.
Now,
in the proximity of such a scene, reading and seeing the frail inert
body of a young child, the mother's unstoppable caressing and wailing,
we can almost feel the physical pain and our caution of frontier
disappearing. The game board is broken. We discover that at the end, we
are all labourers trying to build a decent life. Some of us succeed.
Mohamed might have done too, if given the chance.
Tags: boardgame, youngdeath
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