This weekend has turned out to be one of the worst in a long time. After one of the worst weeks in a long time. Fading into what will most likely be another superlative of the bad.
Yesterday, after burning a lot of wood and papers and cardboard, I felt better. And then I woke up to the news that the military killed someone during heavy confrontations between protesters and armed forces who where trying to push a the trucks of a hyper-capitalist supermarket chain through the barricades.
Is that worth killing for?
I watched the video. I shouldn't have. The footage doesn't show the shots themselves, but how the body is carried by protesters, who are then dispersed. Only one remains. Trying to protect the shot man. Trying to help him. Calling for help. Military trucks drive by, then come back, halting next to the body and his guardian. They get out. They kick the guardian on the ground. They beat him. They try to pull him away from the body, he holds on, doesn't let go until they finally let off, drive away.
It shook me. It was right over there, on the other side of the canyon, maybe 3km. And here, in town, such a peaceful morning. The sun shining in that particular way that makes the air taste fresh and promising. It took me a while to get up and on with my day. Friends came over with their daughter, the kids played. They, too, were dejected, powerless. We only talked a little about the situation and then went on to cooking together, pretending a little normality, for the kids.
They were happy.
At least that. I remembered when I went out to protest, 25 years ago. The confrontation with police, tear gas, high-pressure-water guns. How outraged we all were when a protester against the Stuttgart-21 project lost an eye due to a rubber bullet. Or a tear gas canister? I don't even remember. We only heard about deaths at protests on the news, sometimes, mostly from countries with dictatorships and/or corrupt governments.
So overwhelmingly privileged.
Then and now. I don't have to decide between food or bus fair to school. And probably never will have to do so. Who am I to tell them the "right way to protest"? To judge? I've grown to dislike judging situations and people alike, especially with scarce information available. And even more so while seeing that the trend is going the other way. So many rash, purely emotional comments, without understanding half of what's going on and even less ability to consider the points that the other side is making.
It's not up for debate.
Good old parenting phrase. I try to avoid it, try to take the time to listen to the incredibly cute arguments that Lily is making, her childish attempts to change decisions in her favor. And if she's got a good one, I let her have her will - she worked for it, she was able to convince me. Discussions are so important.
It's getting late.
Yes, I was writing to calm myself down. To get tired. I hope it wasn't dull. It's hard to focus these days, to get things done. Even my lists don't really work. Maybe tomorrow.
They say that they're going to cut the power around Midnight. Cellphone service is already limited, kind of hard to say if it's on purpose or just the general bad network. A huge military convoy is coming from Quito. The government claims that 17 military personal were abducted by communities, but the communities didn't say anything about that, ever. The social media feed reeks of fear, anger, sadness, anxiety and rumors, so many rumors, all hearing the drums in the depths of Moria:
They're coming.
What are your thoughts about this topic? Please feel free to engage in any original way, including dropping links to your posts on similar topics. I'm happy to read (and curate) any quality content that is not created by LLM/AI, as well as read your own experience and point of view, I love to learn!
