Category: English

Actors, directors, writers and the public. Spectacle of the past and the future:  2023 versus 2024 – the English version

Bogumił Pacak-Gamalski

In ancient Greece, there was a special, feared temple in Delphi, where the women serving as the foretellers of tomorrow and fate would tell you what yours would look like. Pythia was seldom very clear in her oracles. I will try my best to be less confusing and complicated. Also, unlike a proper Pythia, I am not a user and therefore I am not high, as I write the story, LOL.  

But before we get to 2024, let’s look back to 2023. Normally, talking about history would seem to be very safe. Nothing could be more wrong than that wisdom. History, my dear reader is only objective about plain facts. You can say safely only one sentence: i.e. the Battle of Hastings took place in 1066. Anything else would be your opinion of the battle, not facts.

So maybe it is better to ‘use’ and be high and talk about the future. At least no one can say with a conviction that you are wrong or even a liar.

But I will try nonetheless to say a few things that I hope will be reasonable, seasoned, and not too emotional.

2023 in Canada

Eighth year of Justin Trudeau’s Liberal government. From happiness and joyful youth of hope at the beginning (that was very much needed at that time) to Covid years, social upheaval (Truck convoys, occupations of Ottawa, and border crossings), and polarization of the entire Canadian society. Not many could have survived it. He did. But badly damaged. I also think that he has become tired and not as enthusiastic about bringing a sunny future to Canadians. I doubt very much if he will be able to beat his father’s record of longest-serving PM in modern Canadian history.

2023 was a series of setbacks for our Government. On the domestic scene and international scene. Most of them were probably beyond anyone’s ability to solve or remedy. But in politics, excuses are seldom granted for those in power.

In the last two years, prices of everything just skyrocketed. And so did interest rates. But food and shelter become the biggest scare of all. That certainly was not a Canadian phenomenon – similar things happened everywhere in the developed world.  In Germany, France, Poland, in the USA. Originally a lot of it stemmed from the COVID years and total breakage in world transport of goods across continents and oceans. But once that was established  – the habits of raking huge profits became entrenched in the pockets of the oligarchs of domestic and world food distributions. Owners of supermarkets, car sales, oil and energy, landlords of apartments both big ones and individual ones. Almost overnight rents went up ten, twenty, and fifty percent higher. The high prices of home ownership were already habitually high putting us all at constant risk of collapse and financial crisis of the banking system (remember what happened in the US many years ago?). But it used to be in Vancouver, Toronto, and Montreal. Suddenly it happened in Halifax, St. John, and Fredericton – for no economic reason whatsoever since none of the Maritime Provinces experienced even a semblance of any economic boom – to the contrary.  I guess greed is a part of human nature. Not a nice one – but it is.

Eventually, wages went up, too. Not nearly enough – but surely. All of it made the fight against inflation even more difficult – but the Bank of Canada stayed its course and no serious inflation ever occurred. It wasn’t popular – but necessary. That is the difference between politicians and high-ranking Officers of the Crown (like national banks presidents). Politicians are at the mercy of voters; appointed Officers are at the mercy of only their terms, thus often doing what is right and not what is safer for them.

The result? 2023 was very expensive for ordinary Canadians. And definitely more expensive for ordinary citizens of most countries in the world. Regardless if the governments were rightist, leftist, or centrist.

I strongly believe that we managed as well as we could thanks to the unusual partnership between Jagmeet Singh of NDP and Justin Trudeau of Liberals. It wasn’t a coalition by any means (probably smart for Singh) but a careful partnership. But when you have a minority government your position as an ally is stronger. It was also an astute choice for Singh as he built his profile and popularity among voters.

Therefore my first choice in politicians of 2023 in Canada goes to him – Jagmeet Singh. Second to Justin Trudeau –  if for anything than for surviving. It was a very bad time for all politicians. Last by any margin of error – but most popular in recent polls, Pierre Poilievre. I understand that when people are angry and scared they run toward the one who is even angrier and scarier. But really? Is that what you want? The most fanatical, the one lacking on any cohesive policy for the massive challenges awaiting us in 2024? God have mercy. It is so easy to criticize existing policies and governments in times of global crisis. But to offer workable and logical, economically sound alternatives – not so much. Certainly, in the case of Poilievre, they are not forthcoming.  The few that he sort of mentioned are just absurd. They have no economic or social value. On the contrary – I think that it would create a much harsher situation for most of us  (very few very rich ones would absolutely gain a lot from it) in 2024.

Canada’s worst ‘enemy’ in 2023 in order of dangers:

  1. Huge forest fires and floods as a result of climate change – stretching from ocean to ocean to ocean. There was no escape. Ecological catastrophe and financial disaster for Provincial and Federal governments.
  2. War in Ukraine. On many fronts most difficult and terribly expensive in recent Canadian history. Our support for Ukraine extended well beyond our ability. And, of course, at the worst possible time. It is one way to be generous during ‘good times’ and a different thing to be generous in ‘bad times’.  Paying for armaments, munition, training, fulfilling obligations to NATO, and sending Canadian regiment to Estonia is very expensive, too. At a time when our Forces need very badly a large amount of budget in Canada to fix years of not doing enough. By all recent federal governments, Liberal and Conservative. Yet – we did not choose that war. The war is not only in Ukraine, somewhere very far away. The war is at the borders of NATO countries to whom we have an obligation. We either support the Ukrainian army, which is much smaller than that of the Russian aggressor – or we might end up doing the fighting ourselves if Russians overcome their defenses and attack NATO country or countries.  Remember a lesson from the 2 world War – if Europe (France and England) and the USA attacked Hitler when he invaded with almost all his armies Poland, maybe the war would not lasted almost six years but only a year or two. And maybe millions of people would have survived it. Just saying. Sometimes – sadly – starting a war against an evil aggressor makes the war shorter and less bloody. Now the ‘hitler’s name is Putin.  (Don’t forget that Stalin’s Russia was Hitler’s ally and invaded Poland from the East two weeks after Hitler started his invasion. If not that Hitler two years later changed his mind and attacked Russia – Stalin would have stayed by Germany’s side)
  3. The global crisis of economies, raising poverty and hunger.

Challenges in 2024

  1. This time the one that is unavoidable. One that dwarfs every other challenge. Climate change. One that can’t be stopped because we are not able to stop or reverse cosmic forces, forces of the Universe. Earth is not a world in itself. It is part of our solar system, our galaxy, and part of the Cosmos known and unknown.  Earth is a ‘living’ thing. Never stopped being one. Constantly changing its form, shape, and look. Just in a different time frame than our human perception. But from time to time it speeds up. It has been done many times before. Usually with very disastrous effects for the life forms, that exist in such times. Then life comes back, some species survive, and some new ones emerge. But one life form became so powerful in the last million or so years that affected that normal, cosmic timeframe. People. We. We can’t stop that change. But we shouldn’t speed it up, as we do.  This time it is not freezing in glaciers, not gigantic volcano eruptions followed by hundreds of years of darkness and acid monsoons. This time it is simply warming. 2003 was already the warmest in kept records. According to geological archeologists, it reached the level last seen 100,000 years ago. That will affect the entire planet, all humankind. It couldn’t care less about any states, borders, or nations. By acting accordingly, wise, and understanding the truly existential nature of that change we might have a chance to adapt, to survive, maybe even flourish later.  But we must. We. Everyone. Governments and international organizations can’t do that for us this time. We must elect only politicians, who are very serious about it, who accept that challenge as the most important one, who follow the plan and do not change it come every election. We can’t say: it must be China most; India most, Brazil first; Europe, Africa, and on and on. No. It must be Canada’s first in Canada. Yes, nations should develop and plan globally. But we can’t afford the time when all agree. We must do now, here. And it will cost money. Will cost us. Les if we start now, more if we start five years from now. By us, I mean us individually, not just some government in some town called Ottawa. Traditional oil-driven or coal-driven energy should be more expensive. And you can’t expect that all the costs will be covered by the government. If the government covers the full cost it means it will cut other services. You know that arithmetic very well. The National Bank doesn’t really just print money. If we fail that test and we will speed up the warming process everything else stops having any sense. Millions of people will die of starvation, hundreds of millions will become poor and desolate, and immigration will just overcome any national borders and border walls. It will be chaos on many fronts. Forest fires and floods? You have not seen anything, yet. Some nation-states are already disappearing in front of our own eyes. I mean – they are truly sinking out of the map.
  2. Two wars that must be stopped by any means. I mean any. Russia must be punished so harshly by all allied states (Europe, North America, Australia, New Zealand, and any other true ally that we have) that would cripple their economy. That will stop the war much faster than any rockets or tanks sent to Ukraine (but we must continue to support Ukraine in the meantime before the sanctions are formed and executed). That is possible and is in our best interest. Current sanctions are just a patchwork of here and there and this and that. We can’t wait for the majority of the world to agree to that. It might never come. We must use our own strict ‘club’ of Western Powers of democratic states and do it fully, comprehensibly, and at once. It is possible and it is doable. We must demand it from our governments.

 Israel – the massacre of Palestinians must stop. No ceasefire, no ‘more careful killings’. This is insanity and it serves no one. Except for one person – the disgusting malfeasant and populist Netanyahu. Now a war criminal.  United States is acting in an abhorrent way aiding in the massacre of people, who already suffered unspeakable theft of land, opportunities, and basic dignity. I do understand that Israel is a linchpin of US policy in the Middle East. But it is all based on old times of rivalry between East (communism and USSR) and West.   But regardless of that anachronistic policy – it is in the best long-time interest of Israel to have peace with Palestinians. It is the only solution to lasting peace there. What happened in December with the atrocious Hamas attack – happened. It has been dealt with. It cannot justify the unspeakable horror of what is happening in the ruins of Gaza City and all other cities and towns in the Gaza Strip. It is abhorrent.  Our, Canadian government can’t be part of it. There is no room to be ‘a little pregnant’ in this conflict. Children and women are dying in hundreds daily, hospitals are bombed as they tend to the wounded and dying, and starvation is happening now.  No medicine, no fresh water, no fuel, no food. The trickle that is coming (never sure if it is coming, and aid trucks have been already bombed, too) is only a fraction of what is needed. It is truly insanity and I can’t understand that some of us are even trying to discuss it politely that maybe this or maybe that, that it is all very complicated. No. It is not complicated at all. It kills innocent people. In thousands. People, who were already suffering. Including suffering from Hamas hands. During the history (a very short one after all) of Israel, it gathered a lot of support. People knew and remembered what was Holocaust, what were pogroms. That Jews deserve their own state. Safe state. And now a lot of it evaporates in thin air. A normal person just watches with astonishment and disbelief. For the sake of not only Palestinians (but mostly for them because they are being massacred) but also the secured and respected Israel – stop it. Kick Netanyahu to the garbage bin of history and restore peace. Both nations deserve it.

  • Last but not least – India. The largest democracy in the world. But is it? The USA wants it to be a counterbalance to China’s ambitions in Asia. I don’t trust this guy at all. Arrogant, populist, and ethno-religious chauvinist. I think that he is the worst that could have happened to this amazing subcontinent with thousands of years of history. How can you have a democracy if the leader is an authoritarian trumpist? Ask me, a Canadian Pole who observed from Canada for the last 10 years the democratically elected government of populists, religious fanatics, and idiots in Poland. They lost power in massive elections and popular protests in October last year. Now is January. It is absurd what is happening now in Poland. The party that lost occupies buildings in Warsaw, occupies the Public TV (equivalent to CBC in Canada), and daily emits anti-government programs. There is legal chaos as part of the Judiciary was chosen by the former chauvinistic government and wants to stop the new government from any normal governance. Democracy is not a panacea for everything. It works only if everyone respects the same rules. Not only the rules it likes.

OK, it looks like the morning is lurking in my window. Time to go to bed.  Enough for today. Good night and sleep well. Hope you can after reading this, LOL.

Camera, poetry, and Yule in Halifax – with John

Bogumil Pacak-Gamalski

Yule is an old Solitice holiday in Norse and Anglo-Saxon tradition. I was going to visit my husband burial place today. But been there a short time ago. Dont really like going there, especially this time of the year, when it is wet, gray, desolate and sad. Entire summer and autumn I spent almost entirely on wild beaches, secluded spots, where I could be just with him. Talked to him, built forts of stones and sticks to our love and passion. wrote poems to him. And I said today – no more cemeteries. You are here with me, and we are going to do some damage at night time in Halifax. And we went and did.

Yule in Halifax

Do  you still notice the odd things

and the normal things, expected?

Did you hear the song of the waves

yesterday – when it came to our feet,

caressing, enveloping them in a soft

foamy embrace like a kiss?

Do you still follow me on these walks,

my walks of our talks, our love and pain?

Forlorn shores of foreign land that

separated us. But it failed, it failed, I say.

I scream – it failed!

The land on the edge of Canada,

precipitously looking at the abyss

of cold North Atlantic waters.

But we walked on these edges

holding hands, touching limbs and lips.

I still pull you, like a fisherman dragging his net

from the bottom of a cold ocean,

and I bring you to my boat and we sail.

We sail, I say.

I scream – we sail!

With the wind in our lungs,

hope in our hearts,

and memory locked forever:

at the sea, in the forest,

on mountaintops and in deep valleys.

Come with me to the narrow streets

of this old town of sailors and soldiers.

Let’s go at night and celebrate Yule.

Celebrate the way we never did

while we were alive!

(Halifax, Dec.26.2023; by B. Pacak-Gamalski)

Christmas Day and the gods of the sky: Sun and Moon. And Poseidon, of course.

Christmas Day and the gods of the sky: Sun and Moon. And Poseidon, of course.

Bogumil Pacak-Gamalski

Noc dobra nie była. Dusiła, tańczyła na łóżku, tarmosiła pościel, skrobała pazurami długich stop po podłodze.  Telefon zza oceanu o jedenastej rano zbudził z majaków, potem drugi, stamtąd też, ucieszył. A za oknem piękne słońce nowego, bożenarodzeniowego dnia.

Dwie więc wycieczki zrobiłem – pierwszą do Dartmouth,  do parku Dillman koło Alderney –  a później drugą jazdę na plażę ulubioną koło Lawrencetown – Conrad Beach. W pewnym momencie z nad oceanu świeciła oślepiająco złota grzywa konia z rydwanu Heliosa, a z drugiej, od strony moczar słonowodnych, okrągła, wielka twarz Księżyca w pełni. Czy noc czy dzień do diaska? – pomyślałem i uśmiałem się. A nadbiegająca prędko fala zalała mi buty i zmoczyła skarpety. Chcąc – nie chcąc miałem kąpiel. Nóg tylko co prawda, ale kąpiel jednak. A niżej widoki rannego, bożenarodzinowego Halifaksu i Dartmouth.

The night between Christmas Eve and Christmas was bad. As bad as I suspected it was going to be. Sleepless, despite staying up very late, watching TV, listening to music.  Something was moving the covers on my bed, something was scratching the floor, scratching the walls with a long, yellowish toenail. I must have dose off in the morning when an 11 am call woke me up. A happy, good call from the other side of the ocean. With dear voices of very special and dear people.  I got up refreshed. The sun was bright outside and I took my camera and went to Dillman Park near Alderney in Dartmouth. Went back home to grab a light breakfast, grab my camera again, and drove to Eastern Shore to my favored Conrad Beach. John liked it, too. It was a gorgeous day there. From the ocean side a huge, flaming head of the Sun-god, opposite the Sun, rising above the marches on clear blue sky, full Moon appeared majestically. Looking with my camera at the two gods of the Sky I did not pay attention to my feet and a quick wave covered my shoes and ankles. Well – it was a beach, it was sunny so I had at a least partial bath. And liked it.

Symphony of colours, baroque music, and chat with you.

Bogumil Pacak-Gamalski

Today was going to be a nice day. I know, you almost suspect that the next sentence would read: but it wasn’t.  To a certain degree, you are right: it wasn’t a nice day – it was a splendid day.

The next seven days they say it will be very rainy and extremely windy, stormy. Local floods and power outages are expected. But I must go to Pictou and spend some time with you there. It was going to be, after all, our home. Maybe not the epitome of my dreams – but I know it would make you very happy to be next to your brothers, home by home. And my dear, silly Boy – it isn’t Paris, Warsaw, or Barcelona, not even my dear Vilnius or Prague, where I would be happy. I would be happy working on our last home where you would be happy.

I know, in the end, the Fates had other plans, plans that destroyed ours.   But you end up there, in Pictou. With your Mom, your Dad, and now with your older brother, too. It became your home before it had a chance to become mine. Therefore, as Christmas is approaching, I had to go before the storms to be with you.

All the way to Pictou from Halifax, I listened to the best of the best of baroque music. I have said many times that I have very mixed feelings about that epoch in music. I know – Haydn, Bach, Vivaldi, and early Mozart. But, at times it just makes me cringe. It often feels like a tight corset that makes your chest scream for air and freedom.  Then again, at times – nothing soothes you better than old, familiar fugue, like an old shirt or warm morning robe.  Today was one of these days for baroque.  Predictable, well composed, elegant.

Little did I know what you had in plans for me on my way back. A symphony of colours, shades, and hues in the sky I could not imagine possible.

Just one note of my experiences with sunsets: mind you almost my entire life, the adult part anyway, I have spent on the shores of oceans or in the valleys and peaks of big mountains. And many, many years of sailings on ships; I have been to most Polynesian islands and their beaches. In a word – I know a thing or two about sunsets.  Yet, nothing prepared me for the gift you made me today on my way back to Halifax.

And you must know of that special part of Highway #1 from New Glasgow to Truro. It is just like someone was planning a road to be a panoramic exhibition. Almost every season. Particularly beautiful during the glory of Autumn, with the dark hues of evergreens mixed with flames of red, yellow, and gold of other trees. At times it is almost dangerous to drive there as you try to concentrate on the highways and not as much on the panoramas.  Today – you thanked me for our visit and chat with the sky. It was just breathtaking.

There is also something to say about the spookiness of old, local cemeteries that with certain lithing make you feel like watching some old Poltergeist movies. Just saying.

Tidal Bore of Fundy Bay. Bor przypływu z zatoki Fundy. (part 2/część 2.)

Bogumił Pacak-Gamalski

At the end of my journey, this fellow met me in Stewiacke

Pamiętacie poprzednią próbę wycieczki śladami potężnego wiertła oceanu, które boruje sobie kanały wzdłuż Nowej Szkocji? Tak po prostu. Włazi sobie w ląd, wyrywa pewnie miliony metrów sześciennych ziemi, boruje kanały i wlewa się swoim żółto-brunatnym mułem. Pamięta skubany, że kiedyś mógł tu skutecznie łączyć się z cieśninami North Cumberland i św. Wawrzyńca i nie był żadną ‘zatoką’ a też cieśniną, nie był zamulony a czysty, jak świeża woda. Nagle wody opadły i Nowa Szkocja z wyspy stała się półwyspem zamykając swobodną wędrówkę wody oceanicznej. No to ta Fundy Bay, która ‘bay’ nie chciała być, pcha się w ten ląd swoją starą drogą. Boruje.  Zaczyna to się w okolicach miejscowości Maintland i drąży ziemię.  Raczej wiadomo, że wydrąży. Woda , panie dobrodzieju, zawsze była silniejsza od najtwardszych skał. Uparta, ot co. Skała to taka trochę zarozumiała jest. No bo silna, twarda, niewzruszona. Więc siedzi tak sobie nieruchomo pewna swej mocy. A woda to żywa, jak rtęć. Smyk, smyk i już miejsce znajdzie. I zacznie drążyć aż tak wydrąży na około twardej skały, że skała sama się zawali w proszek.  

Tamta wycieczka częściowo się tylko udała, bo zachciało mi się ‘bocznych wycieczek’, gdzie w jakiś ostępach leśnych mało nie zniszczyłem swego traka.Wiec dziś pojechałem z surowym sobie danym nakazem: od A do B i wtedy do C. Żadnych bocznych atrakcji.  Co prawda, tak zupełnie posłuszny i skoncentrowany na jeździe utartymi szlakami nie byłem i właziłem tam, gdzie były napisy: Halt! Verbotten! No, ale co to płotek niby metalowy, ale nie wyższy niż do klatki piersiowej? Bo niby zima wszystko nieczynne. A co ja niedźwiedź jaki, że zimą mam spać w norze?! Albo dróżka boczna przez las i wzgórza, niby żwirowa a nie asfaltowa ale porządna.  No tak, był duży napis, że roboty i stała wielka kobieta w walonkach i żółtym skafandrze z dużym znakiem ‘stop’.  Podchodzi do mnie i mówi: reperują most dalej, tylko dla ruchu lokalnego, wracaj do szosy i szosa do głównej trasy. A przecież ja też miałem walonki na sobie, jadę trakiem, jak farmer, więc mówię: ale ja lokalny. No to ona: a,  to OK, jedź. Tylko powoli i uważaj na ciężarówy ze żwirem. I pojechałem. Za mostkiem już robót nie było i droga była dobra.

I cała drogę tej wielkiej rzeki-mułu przejechałem, zaglądałem do niej, podziwiałem potęgę natury. Spotkałem orły, choć zdjęć zrobić nie zdążyłem. Zanim kamerę ustawiłem, odleciały za drzewa. Ale wiecie, jak orły wyglądają. Klucze dzikich gęsi za to po niebie szybujące dały się, niby pięciolinie, w obiektywie złapać.

(scroll down to the English part of the article)

On the last day of November as you remember, I went to view the immense power of the tidal bore that starts from Minas Basin around Maitland. At that time my unfortunate side trips took so much time, that when I eventually arrived to view the brown mud-river – it was too late to properly explore it. A few days later, still not fully recovered from my bad flu, I went again. This time I took a shorter route and no ‘side trips’. Winter offers totally different views. And lack of tourists. Zero. None. Yes, some spots were gated and closed. But the gates were not really that tall and maybe I didn’t see the sign ‘closed for the season’? Who knows. I was there and the river was there and we had to meet somehow. So we did. The rest is history. The Tidal Bore is an absolute must to see. Such immense power of the ocean tides and the constant struggle of the land against it. A struggle the land will eventually lose. But observing it is something to admire. Nature has so much majesty. I took this time Highway 102 to Shubenacadie and #215 to Maintland. Came back by scenic Riverside Road that follows the flow of the Channel (called also Subenacadie River).  

Gdzie pies z kulawą nogą …where the devil won’t …

Bogumił Pacak-Gamalski

… nie pójdzie, to polazę. … there I will go.

The other day, on the last day of November I decided to go and explore parts of Nova Scotia hinterland I have not traveled through. It wasn’t the smartest choice but – what the heck, not the first and certainly not the last time I did things I maybe shouldn’t, and a bit too late, as it was already 1 PM.  Took the #101 west to Lower Sackville and turned into #354 north toward Beaver Bank. Between the little and tremendously loooong towns of Beaver Bank and Middle Beaver Bank, the traffic and road repairs stretched my patience to the limit. I was just about to turn around and go home. But past the Upper Beaver Bank the highway climbed higher and higher, the sky became bluer and bluer and the new snow was so white on passing tree branches and endless fields. I was in heaven. Around the small community of Upper Rawdon the highway reached its peak and you could enjoy endless view in front while driving. And there was almost no one else driving. Such a peace. And peace is what I went for in my driving that day.

I was aiming to go to Maitland to view the power of the Tidal bore of Minas Basin as it rips the land and goes toward Truro on one end and all the way to Shubenacadie on the other end. There is no escape – that bore and power of the Fundy Bay will in not so distant future finish its job and separate once again Nova Scotia from the mainland and we will become an island again. Little chance I will see it (although rising sea levels might accelerate even faster …) but people in their twenties most likely will. I was aiming to…. My famous words, LOL. At the footsteps of the lovely town of Kennetcook I took a sharp turn to the west. Let’s explore some more of the hinterland. Sure, why not?  Especially that it started snowing and daylight became a bit greyish …  It was the last day of November, after all.  Around small Tom Barron Road, I thought that I should start heading back to my original destination. Turned right into the road, passed two or three ancient homes, lost my internet connection. But west is west and east is east with or without internet.  The gravel and mud road instantly becomes narrow. Have a big truck, so what? Just drive to the end and turn on the first road toward the east. What’s the problem?. Passed a very small enclosure in the thick forest with one solitary bull there.  Waved to him and very slowly moved further. Slowly because the road stopped being a road. It became very narrow, with deep holes tunnel. Suddenly for a moment my wifi came back and said: continue for six kilometres and turn left. I tried. But there was no chance. One could hardly walk there and no car (maybe a tank, but I doubt it) can possibly drive through that tunnel. Turning around was impossible. The only choice was driving in reverse trying not to get stuck. Took me forever, meter by meter, back and forth. Branches scratched my poor truck seriously. But I had to get out. The phone was dead again. Finally, I got back to the enclosure with the bull, and used the small clearing around it, turned around and headed back. That was interesting, LOL.

The rest was easy. Back to Kennetcook, down to Maitland. And to the power of the yellowish bore of Minas Basin. It was getting too late already to explore the view of the ‘river of mud’. Took a few pictures and took Highway 215 to Shubenacadie by #102 and back to Dartmouth.  Very soon, I will have to take that drive again to observe the tidal waters coming through the land. But will not engage in doing ‘side trips to nowhere’.

Ostatniego dnia listopadowego nie mogłem więcej wytrwać w domu. Mimo ciągle męczącego kaszlu i myśli zwróconej w kierunku strasznej rocznicy – zdecydowałem pojechać w tereny nieznane jeszcze, na północ przez wzgórza, ku dolinie którą zamieniła w rwącą, żółtą rzekę potęga fali przypływu z Fundy Bay. To nie jest rzeka słodkowodna. To morska fala, potęga oceanu, który rozerwał tą dolinę, jak pługiem. Wyborował sobie drogę. Dawniej, tysiące lat temu Zatoka Fundy była po prostu cieśniną, która oddzielała Nową Szkocje od lądu stałego.  Teraz, podnoszący się stale poziom morzą związany ze zmianami klimatycznymi wraca w swoje dawne koryta. Za pięćdziesiąt lat spodziewamy się, że Fundy Bay znowu będzie cieśniną i połączy się z Zatoką św. Wawrzyńca czyniąc Nową Szkocję wyspą ponownie. Być może nastąpi to szybciej.  Więc pojechałem w kierunku Maitland przez rozległy płaskowyż zobaczyć gdzie ten potężny bor przypływu wyżłobił tą słoną, mulistą rzekę, której jedno ramię delty prowadzi do Truro, a drugie na południe, do Shubenacadie.

Ale, zwyczajem swoim, miast jechać wytyczoną trasa do celu, w okolicach uroczego miasteczka Kennetcook, skręciłem nie w prawo do Maintland, a w lewo. Troszkę wiejsko-sielankowego uroku tej zachodniej części Nowej Szkocji zasmakować. To trochę taka dzielnica zapomniana, nie na głównym szlaku. Zaczynało się robić lekko późno, śnieg prószył już nieźle. Po parudziesięciu kilometrach dojechałem do małej wioski przy drodze Toma Barrona. Pomyślałem, że czas wracać w kierunku Kennetcook i na trasę zaplanowaną. Nova Szkocja obszarem to nie Kolumbia Brytyjska czy Ontario. Wszędzie tu blisko, więc po co wracać ta sama drogą? Przejadę przez tą wioskę i z drugiej strony lasku w pierwszą napotkana drogę w prawo. Co za problem? Droga tylko bita, wąska, ale mam przecież trucka a nie fiacika. Wioska była malutka, osada w zasadzie , może trzy-cztery domki. Zaraz za domostwami zaczął się lasek. Potem gęstszy, droga węższa. Straciłem wifi i googla. Jechałem już wolno. W pewnym momencie była małe obejście otoczone palisadą wewnątrz którego stał samotny byk. Pomachałem ręką. Śnieg prószył bardziej i widoczność zmalała. Zaraz za obejściem droga stała się drużką, tunelem w zasadzie z głębokimi koleinami. W pewnym momencie mój gogle się odezwał! Dalej mnie prowadził mówiąc wyraźnie – za sześć kilometrów skręć w prawo i kontynuuj do szosy 236. Zawahałem się ale nie było jakiejkolwiek możliwości zawrócenia, mój truck ledwie się mieścił między drzewami. Może za kilkadziesiąt metrów ta dróżka się powiększy? Nie powiększyła się. W pewnym momencie zwężała się na dróżka dla jednego-dwóch piechurów. Nie było wyjścia. Wifi też przestał działać ponownie. Musiałem cofać się metr po metrze pilnując by nie wpaść w koleiny i nie zabuksować się lub nie uszkodzić zawieszenia kół. Na gałęzie szorujące bogi samochodu uwagi nie już nie zwracałem.  W zasadzie smiac mi się chciało. W najgorszym wypadku będziesz tu w tej dzikiej gęstwinie nocować, benzyny masz sporo to będziesz mógł się ogrzewać., LOL. Ale metr po metrze jakoś udało mi się wycofać do miejsca tego zagrodzenia z bykiem. Przy zagrodzeniu była mała wycinka, gdzie udało mi się samochód przekręcić. Byłem więc ‘w domu’. Pogadałem chwilę z bykiem, który patrzył się na mnie z politowaniem.

Wróciłem do trasy i przez Kennetcook pojechałem szosą 236 do Maintland. Zaczynała się  niezła szarówka, śnieg ciągle padał.  Obejrzałem tylko mały fragment tej ‘żółtej rzeki’. Jej ciekawsze fragmenty były blisko ale wymagałby zjechania w inną szosę a widoki z minuty na minutę były gorsze. Obiecałem sobie tu jeszcze wrócić (bez bocznych ‘objazdów’).  Szosa 215 pojechałem do głównej trasy 102 i stamtąd do Dartmouth, do domu. Było już czarno. Ale wycieczka mimo to udana.

Zeitgeist

Bogumił Pacak-Gamalski

This article is going to be bilingual: in English and in Polish. It is not just a simple translations. Both texts are geared toward slightly different situations, experiences and expectations of of Polish and English-speaking readers. Therefore some details and background of text are different. However, the idea and sense are geared toward explanation of the same phenomena in the world of politics and politicians. And ethics or lack of such.

Zeitgeist to niezbyt jasny termin niemiecki z pogranicza filozofii, psychologii, literatury i historiozofii. W późniejszym czasie również zaadoptowany przez popularną subkulturę  książek i filmów horror w Ameryce Północnej.

Generalnie ‘zeitgeist’ to pewien okres czasu, gdy zachowania nieetyczne są niejako dozwolone, gdy moralność nabiera innych barw i do władzy dochodzą inni przywódcy, politycy. Rodzi się silny nacjonalizm, szowinizm. Widzenie świata w kategorii My contra Oni. Lub: Albo My Albo Oni. Lata 30-te ubiegłego wieku w Europie są tego przykładem a efektem lata 40-te tamże. Obecnie takim zeitgeist nazwałbym okres wzrastającego populizmu, który jest specyficzną odmianą faszyzmu. Czyli czas obecny. Cała ostatnia dekada na całym świecie.

W Polsce były lata PiSu i ich wodza (na kształt wodzów Włoch, Hiszpanii i początków NSDAP w Niemczech lat 20-tych), któremu udało się stworzyć taki mini-zeitgeist w Polsce. Z najbardziej zacofanymi, najbardziej konserwatywnymi elementami polskiego Kościoła. Tenże PiS, mimo zwycięstwa szerokiej koalicji partii i ruchów demokratycznych – zdobył w ostatnich wyborach najwięcej głosów oddanych na jedną partię. Tak, gdyby nie było koalicji innych partii – PiS wygrałby wybory i rząd. PO Tuska zyskała mniej głosów niż PiS Kaczyńskiego. Patrzmy, kto szedł śladami Mussoliniego we Włoszech. Kto wygrał ostatnie wybory w Holandii. Dekada obecna to dekada zeitgeistu.

The term ‘zeitgeist’ is not fully clear. It came to be prominently used by the end of the XIX century and early XX century in Europe, especially in Germany, and comes from the unclear land between philosophy and psychology, from where it leaked into literature and historiozophy ( philosophy of history).

Generally speaking, it describes a certain time in history, an epoch, when non-ethical behavior was permissible or even expected. Morality was stretched beyond its meaning or got a new meaning. New leaders are rising to power as a result of new social acceptance. Strong chauvinism and nationalism trump other norms. The world becomes dual-colored: Them or Us or Us contra Them. 

In 2020 there were some events concentrated on the most abhorrent and evil time and place in modern history: Auschwitz. The German concentration camp in the town of Oświecim in Poland. Treblinka was an extension of that ‘Factory of Death’.  That’s when I constructed a literary piece called ‘Zeitgeist’.  For people to build such a place, for leaders to want it to be built – it must be a zeitgeist: time and place for it.

In the last decade, I see a powerful wave of xenophobia raising its head all over the world. Growing trend of populism. And I do call it a new zeitgeist.  Trump in US; new type of angry, populist conservative leaders in Canada’s politics (Poilievre in federal politics; Scott Moe in Saskatchewan; Danielle Smith in Alberta – to name a few most dangerous ones). It is not only xenophobia – with it homophobia is rising, racism (often covertly), and islamophobia, to name a few.

Nie można od tego wszystkiego wyłączyć wojny rosyjsko-ukraińskiej. Putin jest typowym wodzem doby zeigeistu. Rosyjski szowinizm z mieszaniną okrucieństwa carsko-sowieckiego, marzenia panslawistyczne i wielkoruskie. I naturalnie – Wódz. Wybraniec Historii. Zeitgeist w pełnym blasku historiozofii.

W moim oryginalnym tekście o zeitgeist z 2020 naturalnie chodziło o nieludzką, niewyobrażalną zbrodnię popełniona na Żydach w latach 30. i 40. ubiegłego wieku. Całą tą diabelską koncepcję Final Solution . Fizycznej likwidacji całej grupy etnicznej w Europie. I jak nie tylko Niemcy – ale reszta Europy i świata winni za to ich przeprosić. Że pozwoliliśmy, że dopuściliśmy. Nie w 1942 lub 1944. Że pozwoliliśmy na to po Crystal Nacht, po oświadczeniach III Rzeszy zanim padły pierwsze strzały  II wojny. Że statków wypełnionych Żydami u schyłku lat 30. nie wpuszczano do portów w USA, w Kanadzie.

Pisałem kiedyś w cyklu moich artykułów o polskim antysemityzmie o tym, jak sam od wczesnych lat młodości w Polsce jeszcze odczuwałem wielki smutek i brak. Pustkę po nich. Na Nalewkach, na opuszczonych cmentarzykach, w po-żydowskich miasteczkach. I o tym, że antysemityzm polski na tle antysemityzmu we wszystkich prawie krajach europejskich nie był wyjątkowy, nie był krwawszy. Co w niczym nie umniejsza jego zła.

There is a group of people, who suffered in the last hundred years tremendously. People, who were stateless, become through centuries settlers, and nomads settling other states, mixing with their populace. But maintained to a large degree their difference. Mainly because of religious devotion and cardinal religious schism between the old one (Judaism) and the new one (Christianity). It wasn’t the language (most of them over time could not communicate in their old Hebraic language) or looks, but precisely the religious schism that laid the foundation of antisemitism, that created pogroms.

I have always had a special affinity and sentiment toward Jews. After all – Poland for centuries was a safe refuge for them compared to other countries in Europe. I was sad that being born after the 2 world war – I was robbed of their distinct presence in Polish towns, and cities. A presence that was still felt very much, was talked about by your parents, and grandparents, and was filled in entire Polish literature, and art. Detested angrily the act of violence perpetrated against them (the very few who survived) in new Poland after the fall of Hitler.

And something happened that forced me to see a different Jew. An Israeli Jew. A settler. October 7,  2023.

 Hamas–led terrorist attack on Israeli kibbutzes on occupied Palestinian land resulted in the brutal murder of about 1200 Israelis and some foreign nationals. They also took about 240 (according to Israeli count) hostages back to Gaza. Everyone was shocked. Not by that attack itself – after all Palestinians have a right to fight for at least an internationally recognized part of old Palestine. The part that was internationally reserved for a Palestinian state. Every nation on Earth has a right to self-determination and a right to fight for it. What was shocking was the brutality of it, the massive failure of the Israeli army and police (one of the best-equipped army in the world) to protect the civilian Jewish population. The assault was a ghastly way of murdering civilians. Many states (unanimously in Europe and North America) condemned the attackers.

But what followed in a wake of Israel’s military response – shocked everyone even more. And harshly polarized the opinion of the majority of the world, even within one state. In a short few weeks a non-stop air, artillery, and missile attacks on the entire population and infrastructure of Gaza left Gaza City, it’s services (medical, sanitary, and everything else) were reduced to ruins. The civilian population was not spared the onslaught of bombs. Quickly, the deaths counted in thousands. Approximately 7000 kids were slaughtered.  All border crossings (controlled by Israel) were shut down. Nowhere to escape. Nowhere to search for food, nowhere to ask for medical help for thousands more wounded, nowhere to search for water to drink.

And I saw the shadow of enormous Zeitgeist hovering over the entire Middle East.  Black, angry, spewing ashes and flames.

I nagle przyszedł październik.  Siódmy październik.  Zaplanowana i dobrze zorganizowana akcja ataku zbrojnego ramienia Hamasu na graniczące ze Strefą Gazy kibuce izraelskie. Początkowy szok skali ataku i całkowitej bezradności jednej z najlepiej uzbrojonych armii na świecie – armii Izraela – która nie potrafiła powstrzymać oddziałów bojowników palestyńskich szybko zamienił się w głośnie i bezwzględne potępienie  Hamasu i podkreślenie prawa Izraelitów do samoobrony i zbrojnej odpowiedzi na tą masakrę w kibucach. Atak bojowników Hamasu w brutalny sposób wymordował blisko 1200 Żydów i przebywających tam nielicznych pracowników lub gości z innych narodowości (najwięcej było wśród nich Tajlandczyków, którzy masowo pracują, jako służba domowa i najemni robotnicy w Izraelu). Izrael rozpoczął bombardowanie i całkowite oblężenie Strefy Gazy, zamknął wszelkie przejścia graniczne. Już w pierwszych dniach tego zmasowanego bombardowania lotniczo-rakietowo-artyleryjskiego strata w ludności cywilnej Gazy przerosły wielokrotnie liczbę ofiar żydowskich. Szybko sięgnęła ona tysięcy. W chwili obecnej ponad siedem tysięcy dzieci palestyńskich zostało zamordowanych w tych bombardowaniach. Tysiące rannych nie mają dostępu do szpitali, które też były obiektem bombardowań, a te które dalej funkcjonują nie maja środków medycznych, nie działają ich prądnice i wszystko to, co nazywa się współczesna medycyną. Rannych operuje się i amputuje okaleczone członki tak, jak w średniowieczu – na żywca. Uciekająca z Południowej Gazy ludność cywilna nie ma dostępu do żywności, brak pitnej wody.  Określić to można bez przesady scenami dantejskimi.

Nad Gazą zawisło olbrzymie widmo ptaka-potwora ziejącego ogniem.  Zeitgeist.  Dokarmianego przez faszyzującego populistę Netanjahu w otoczeniu jego prawicowych, faszyzujących ultra-ortodoksyjnych rabinów. Jeden z członków tego Gabinetu (rabin) domagał się rzucenia na Gazę … bomby atomowej.  Do chwili obecnej jest ministrem w rządzie Izraela.  Nigdy bym się nie spodziewał, że Żydzi, których dziadowie przeżyli zeitgeist Holocaustu, których matki widziały straszne oczy Śmierci pod postacią Shoa – będą karmić zeitgeist masakry w Gazie.  

Moi Żydzi to nie tylko sympatyczni i trochę śmieszni w swej egzotyce kupcy w małych sklepikach, dzieciaki w jarmułkach biegające po wąskich uliczkach  a w sobotę idący z powagą na modlitwy do synagogi. Moi Żydzi to wielcy mistrzowie nauki i filozofii w Polsce i reszcie Europy, to wielcy twórcy literatury i sztuki polskiej i europejskiej, światowej. To Spinoza budujący podwaliny racjonalizmu europejskiego; to Einstein otwierający dla nas bramy kosmicznego Wszechświata; to polski Artur Rubinstein budzący ducha romantyzmu Chopina nad biało-czarną klawiaturą; to nasz Julian Tuwim – czarodziej polskiego języka na równi prawie z Leśmianem – którego wierszyki obok mickiewiczowskich służyły za mój pierwszy elementarz, zanim jeszcze poszedłem do szkoły;  to Lechoń, rówieśnik Tuwima; kto Brunona Schulza może zapomnieć, jeśli jeden z jego wierszy czytał? Można bez końca, można całe stronice zapisać wymieniając tych wspaniałych humanistów świata. Nie wiem, co stało się z tą kulturą askenazyjską, piękną sefardyjską. Wiem, że nie ma jej dziś w gabinetach ministrów i generałów w Tel Awiwie ani w Jerozolimie. Bo by zadusił ich wyziew piekielny czarnego ptaszyska Zeitgeist.

above – Left panel: a kid in Warsaw in 1945; right panel: a kid in Gaza in 2023

What is a year in heartbeats calendar?

Bogumil Pacak-Gamalski

One year. Entire year. twelve months, three hundred sixty-six days. It is hard as hell,  no point in being poetic in choosing words.

Came to Pictou today to spend time in the cemetery where we interned your ashes. Windy, very cold, and wet. Very desolate, not a single person, or visitor there. I know, it is only a stone, a typical cemetery tablet with a name, dates, sometimes a short description.  Your name. Yours, your parents, your baby brother you never had a chance to know. And now also Fraser, your oldest brother, who was laid down here just a few months ago. The coldness, emptiness, the wind made a bit of a mess around the gravesite.  The old flowers still from the time of the funeral, wilted, blackened,  scattered around.  Cleaned it all a bit, and gathered some rocks to hold the new ones and the old ones that were good. Some still from my first visits there, when it was only a place of Leona and Doug, your parents. I haven’t come here since Fraser’s funeral. Didn’t’ want to.  I preferred going every opportunity I had to my wild beaches, in some secluded spots. Remember? We had so many long talks on these beaches. So many tears. Some laughter. I preferred these meetings and visits to visits to cold gravesites.

But I am glad I came today. It is no longer as desolate and as unkempt for the winter, for Christmas.  For Christmas? Do the dead celebrate Christmas? I know the legend and stories of cemeteries and dead folks around November 1, the Old Souls Day. But Christmas? Never thought of that. But just in case, the stuff I brought is sort of wintery-Christmassy appropriate. You know – green branches and so on.  You know that I don’t like when things like that are not taken care of. It is just the oddity how some things are done (or not done properly) on tiny local cemeteries, I suppose.  So I came and fixed what I could.

Fix things? How to ‘fix things’? Nothing can be fixed when everything is broken. Yes, I know You are not there, not under this ground. You are with me. Forever. I have engraved some words on the stone that and thought it said that You are forever in my memory.  And I smiled. In my memory? Really?  That is all that is left, that came to be of our life? Our love?  Just to remember?  How silly words could be to describe emotions, feelings…. You are just part of my soul, part of me. I don’t remember fully, who I was before I met You. I think I was just in a state of waiting. Waiting and searching for You. And I have found You. No, these words were not meant for You or to remind me. They are to the strange passerby to know that You were loved by someone. To passerby, who will not know, who you were or I was. But will know that You were loved. That’s when I noticed that I wrote them correctly on the stone: in ‘my heart’, not ‘in my memory’.

In one of my previous ‘Talks with You’ I published a poem describing how difficult it is to … describe love in words. How she escapes dictionaries and vocabularies. I will repeat the last part of the poem. Just in case You forgot it. And later, some other day we will talk again.

Even when she sleeps –

Her breathing is

expecting you.

That is why when I call you –

I scream or I cry.

And most often when I call you –

I am silent.

 

John coming back from Poland in 1990

Nagba. Scenes of history.

Bogumil Pacak-Gamalski

Idea of this article came to me around November 11, Remembrance Day. I was going to write about places and people I knew, who took part in both the I and II world wars. I was lucky enough to know veterans of both wars. Either as family members or personal friends. Now they are all gone. Although I see their faces still etched in my memory. But, as I started writing, the text changed. Wars change inevitably to exoduses, expatritions, expulsions. The suffering of civilians. The Nagbases. Therefore I decided to write a series of scenes depicting the most important ones. Like in a theatre dramats. As I was writing I noticed how things often change, how oppressors become victims and vice versa.

Scene #1

It is 1914 in Galicia,  on a train at railway station in Kiev, in Ukraine. Front line of Austro-Hungarian Empire and Russian Empire. Young nurse is tending to wounded and bloodied soldiers on that train. Zofia Lejmbach is that nurse. One of my great aunts. She learnt how to be a nurse in a Polish military organization called Rifle Groups  (Drużyny Strzeleckie) organized by Polish independence movement few years prior to that war. Those wounded soldiers were not Polish soldiers, Poland did not exist as independent nation yet.  Not until exactly 11 of November 1918. But it doesn’t matter for her what nationality are these soldiers – they needed help, that was all that matter. Later she will become one of the leading Polish pediatricians, professor and v-ce Rector of Warsaw Medical Academy. That was many years later, though. After 1945.

Scene #2

It is thirty years after her experience as a nurse in Kiev. It is 1944. Different world war,  #2. August in  German occupied Warsaw.  Soviet armies are marching west through Poland, battling the German Nazi Empire of Evil. Polish Underground Home Army (AK) starts the tragic Warsaw Uprising, trying to liberate Warsaw from Germans before the Soviet Army enters the city.  Young doctor Zofia Lejmbach is the Chief of the Underground Army Sanitary Department for the entire Warsaw District. Organizes make-shift hospitals for wounded partisans of Warsaw.  The Polish Underground Home Army (AK) represents Polish Republic  Government In- exile in London. The Soviets don’t want them to liberate Warsaw in the name of that democratic government. They stop their advance and allowed the Germans to smash the Uprising. And Germans did. In atrocious and merciless way.  Doctor Zofia Lejmbach and her medical teams did what they could, in indescribable circumstances. In Wola district was a hospital full of wounded Polish fighters. Zofia Lejmbach was wounded herself but not seriously and turns all her attention to treating the boys of the Uprising. She got a news that Nazi units just massacred another hospital killing all medical staff and patients. Somehow was able to commandeer a large horse drawn carriage and filled it with her patients and escaped the inevitable death taking them through the ruins to her father estate outside of Warsaw, in Skorosie.  By the time they have settled in that estate – the Uprising was over. The Germans ordered the rest of the entire population of Warsaw to live their burning city and long columns of of Warsovians march toward small city of Pruszkow, where the occupiers told them to settle. They could take with them only what they could carry. Behind them was burning Warsaw. When the smoked cleared somewhat – almost nothing was left of the city. Germans burnt and detonated it street by street, house by house.

Scene #3

                Nakgba. Year is 1948. Nakba means in Arabic a catastrophe –  to be expelled, evicted with no right of return[i]. One of the most pivotal word in describing Palestinian people situation in Palestine. It precedes any other explanations, political and military context. It seats at the very centre, at the core of this tragedy. To be precise is started in 1920 in Haifa, when the British seized Palestinian Arabs houses and property and gave it to Jewish settlers brought by them. The Arabic Palestinians did not even receive any compensation. That process continued through the 1930. But 1948, with the creation of Israel it become massive and on unprecedented scale. It wasn’t just houses, private property – it meant territory.  Old Palestine as a huge territory that was home to many groups of people (majority were Palestinians but by 1948 the Jews formed the second largest group) ceased to exist. One of the most prominent symbol of Nakba is a key. Regular, ordinary old type of iron key to an old house. A key that countless of Palestinian families took with them in their long exodus. I remember meeting Palestinian refugees (the original old ones with their children and grandchildren, who were born outside of Palestine) living in Canada, who were showing me their old, rusted key to their lost house in Jerusalem.

Scene #4

                Warsaw. The year is 1942. For more than a year all Jews from Warsaw and smaller towns and villages near-by are moved by German authorities to big space in central Warsaw. The infamous Warsaw Ghetto. At its height the Ghetto housed closed to 0.5 million Warsaw’s  Jews. It was separated by walls and gates from the rest of Warsaw (so called ‘Aryan side’). The time comes for Germans to start in earnest their satanic ‘Final Solution’.  Who didn’t die of hunger or wasn’t shot by Hitler’s henchmen at the slightest opportunity – was going to be deported to Treblinka near Auschwitz. To gas chambers. Long lines of tired and sick people formed columns and march to train station under the watchful eye of the oppressors. Those, who were too weak to march or have fallen down while marching are dealt by German soldiers and Jewish Judenrat (Jewish local administration and police formation organized forcefully by German authorities) – by a blow to the head or single shot. The end of Jewish existence in Warsaw – existence spanning hundreds of years.

Scene #5

                Year is 1945. Soviet Union is in full control of huge territories of Eastern Poland (parts of today Lithuania, Belarus and Ukraine). The Yalta Conference of Roosevelt, Churchill and Stalin decided to change the borders on Central and Eastern Europe on a massive scale. None of the countries involved were consulted and none of the millions of people were asked their opinion. It was truly a march of nations. Since the end of Middle Ages Kingdom of Poland had its borders expanded through treaties, dynastical agreements and wars eastward. The new Polish Republic from 1918 to 1945 did not hold as massive eastern territories as did the Kingdom. But territories were Polish element was in majority or very close to it – were still part of Poland. The Vilnius District, western Belarus and Western Ukraine were considered as the centres of Polish science, art and culture (especially Lvov and Vilnius with its highly regarded universities). Now the old world collapsed. Millions of Poles were expatriated from lands and homes they lived in for generations.  The entire immediate and extended family on my father side pack what they could, left their houses and cemeteries where generations of their grandfathers were buried. I remember them all very well. They – as the old Palestinians from Jerusalem – never forget their cities: Vilnius, Lvov, Sluck, Luck …  Big part of my heart is in Vilnius, too.

Scenie #6

                Year is 2023. Now. Gaza in tiny scrap of land of new Palestine. Very narrow bridgehead strip squeezed between Meditearrean Sea and Israel . One of the most populated piece of land in the world. Separated by Israel from larger piece of land govern by Palestinian Authority in Ramallah in West Bank. That separation made it practically impossible by the Authority to exercise control of Gaza (internationally the Palestinian Authority is recognized as representative political and administrative body of all Palestinian territory: West Bank and Gaza) and allowed for much more aggressive movement of Hamas to take control of Gaza. Hamas political arm become radicalized and it’s armed forces are closer today to jihadist ideas than to original goals of Palestinians struggle for independence.

On the 7 of October Hams launched an attack on Israeli town near Gaza killing hundreds of people (the number of executed Israelis in in the vicinity was 1200 victims) and taking hundreds more  back to Gaza. The atrocity and extremely brutal way of conducting the operation stunned the world.  It’s incomprehensible to understand how such an operation was possible to succeed given the military prowess of Israelis armed forces and once that attacked commenced that it was allowed to continue for hour on end.  Basically speaking the government of Israel was totally missing in action and failed to protect its land and citizens. Once the attackers returned to Gaza, Israel Forces begun full military operation. For weeks Gaza was subject to non-stop bombardment of air forces, artillery and missiles. It was immediately clear that civilian casualties will be very high. Israel cut off all contact of Gaza with external world, cut off food, water, fuel and medicine supplies. People who were trying to leave in this tiny strip of land from north to south were subjected to air attacks. The civilian casualties were growing day by day.  First by hundreds, than by thousands.  Women and children. Old and sick. Non ending groups of people trying to escape bombardment  and death, with meagre belongings hauled first by cars (until fuel run out), on foot, with crying children, with elderly. In search of food, fresh water. On a journey to nowhere. No escape. Some tried to look for safety in hospitals. To no avail – the hospitals become target of constant attacks. Foreign doctors from UN, Red Cross and Doctors Without Borders become victims themselves, some were murdered by Israeli strikes. Hospitals started running out of basic medicine, finally the fuel run out. Some doctors described how they were being shot by Israeli snipers. Scenes like from Dante’s Inferno .  The world watches still in disbelieve. Thousands of children were being murdered and their bodies are being placed in shallow mass graves. As the world watches. Every possible law of war is broken. Crimes against civilians, hospitals and humanity are being committed daily. And the world watches. One of Netanyahu cabinet ministers publicly demanded that an atomic bomb be dropped on Gaza. I thought that the world went crazy, no stop. And that minister is still a minister in Israel’s government.  More or less the Palestinians in Gaza were dehumanized the way Jews were dehumanized by Hitler’s Germany eighty years ago.

Final reflection: how strangely and sad it is that depending on circumstances a yesterday’s victor becomes an oppressor and oppressor becomes a victim.

[i] United Nation document: https://www.un.org/unispal/about-the-nakba/#:~:text=The%20Nakba%2C%20which%20means%20%E2%80%9Ccatastrophe,the%201948%20Arab%2DIsraeli%20war.