More Memories ..., Re: Peace Between Israel and the Palestinians? ...
Dear William -- you announced that you may write less. Let’s hope that the young spring will inspire you and give new stamina. As for me, memories return to me, maybe because life gets shorter. I was encouraged not to bury my memories with me. Of course many are already forgotten, but sometimes come back, some bringing humor within their pathetic situations. I hope not to annoy the readers with repetitive subjects but I'm doing my duty to report something between anecdote and History.
Jewish prisoners gathered to go to work in the concentration camp in Plaszow, Poland. A group of SS women passed and one, with her fist, punched the face of a Jewish prisoner nearby. I have no idea what was bothering her. After the women passed, the whole Jewish male crowd burst out laughing because a woman hitting a man had to be something highly comical, no matter what their respective situations. The victim, who looked like a hillbilly, laughed also.
It was in the same concentration camp. A group of SS men and women gathered in their area, far enough away from me, but still I could perceive them. One couple caught my attention, young and very extroverted. They were talking to each other, laughing, both rather plain looking but very pleased with each other. She was mimicking something and he started to caress her face, laughing, caressing, it was a ritual performance of a Nordic man courting a Nordic woman, an act of mythical courtship of a superior race. They were playing a role. I was 13 or 14 tears old but they seemed to me artificial, ridiculous and pathetic.
It was in a factory in a concentration camp. One section was reserved for the prisoners’ barracks. From time to time a new SS officer took over. Usually we were gathered in the interior square and the newcomer would either harangue us or want some performance. This one wanted some performance. We sang “Valencia” for him among other songs and then he wanted a new diversion. Finally somebody called for one inmate who was a born comedian. He looked like a cartoon character. When the big, corpulent SS man saw him, he advanced with dancing steps, took off his officer's hat and bowed down to him. They both performed an unforgettable pantomime. The SS officer and the Jewish prisoner found themselves in the world of spectacle where they both belonged. This fraternity didn't last long and they came back to the present. Worth mentioning: after the factory was closed and people were gathered to be shipped somewhere else, I heard that the Jewish comedian had a crisis of dementia, probably from fear, and was shot on the spot.
(Email withheld by request)
I who am not very opinionated about many things disagree with your point of view. Firstly, I don't think that Israel thinks only of revenge-this is more of an Arab mentality-ie 9/11. This event gave us good insight into the Arab/Moslem/terrorist mentality. It certainly told us that such terrorists do not only hate Jews but others as well. As shown by suicide bombers attacking other diverse groups of Arabs ie Shiites, Sunnys etc, this clearly demonstrates that they even hate their own kind.
I also feel that they need to police the people in Gaza from the ground up because they have many terror groups growing there and some of them can be prevented from launching their attacks if they are closely watched. Planes are useful but far from enough.
I agree that I am somewhat politically naive because politics has never been a strong interest but on this subject, I feel strongly.
The Europeans had their religious wars; it isn’t unique to the Arabs. The Israelis should avoid sending troops to the Palestinian territories, it only excites their bravado to white heat. What can you do to a population that is not afraid of death? The problem is not military but has to be resolved psychologically; I gave an example in the last issue (Open Bouquet: Total Ignorance …) of the Franquists who opened the gates of besieged and starving Barcelona by dropping bread from planes. WMBack to the index of the Vagabond