Yes, we have no bananas

In Uncategorized on September 9, 2014 at 7:18 am

For a book marking the tenth anniversary of a local group of hairy-brained activists (of which I am one). Expected number of copies: 200. Expected impact on the public and on funding agencies: Ha. Never mind.  Ten years = a milestone. Save a few photos and a few words before the storage units become so obsolete nobody remembers their purpose anymore. (Ritual objects of an unknown cult? an anthropologist will ask in the year four thousand and twenty-five, retrieving a silver plastic wafer the size of a bread plate.)

The hunt through old files turns up some useful photos for the immediate purpose at hand,plus tons of junk and some  heart-stopping mementos. The kind that encapsulate a specific mood, a defining moment.  Among them: a series of monkey-themed objects (the famous see-hear-speak no evil monkeys, as illustrations to match boxes, porcelain knick-knacks, wooden sculptures, etc).

These, in turn, tie in with earlier memories. The days when I lugged many, many kilos of food stuffs from the food coop, fingers numb from the weight. Days when I joined marches and protests, ran from strike-breakers armed with baseball bats and policemen armed with rubber truncheons. Indignation at every step. Shouts of defiance. Konked heads and konked knees. Something like small bands of initial inhabitants, taking on the might of Portugal, Spain, England or France, armed with a few spears and a total ignorance of how the newcomers’ spears shot fire and killed from a distance.

Never mind? No, not never mind. You choose to be who you are. You choose to act in accordance with what you hold dear. What makes you laugh, what makes you cry. What makes you see in the mirror the person you know from way, way back,  and whose only noticeable changes are in outward appearance.

You write from that place, the same way you do everything else. As best you can manage because whotthehell, you’ve got something better to do, maybe?


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