Beers & Books (395) – José Carrasco

Chile, my martyred land

José Carrasco (24 August 1943 – 8 September 1986)

Bowing to courageous journalists

Freedom of the press is not only endangered in war zones or dictatorships.

Today, the 1st Hamburg Press Freedom Week began; with interesting guests talking about interesting topics.

Coincidence it's September 11?

My thoughts go back ... no, not 22 years. 50 years.

September 11, 1973: Chilean coup d'état

Never shall I forget this day and the atrocities that followed. 

And I shan't forget José Carrasco. 

Chile, my tortured country

In the morning hours of 8 September 1986, shortly after a regrettably unsuccessful assassination attempt on General Pinochet, José Carrasco, editor of the magazine Análisis, was kidnapped from his flat and shot by a death squad at a cemetery wall.
The cemetery wall became a site of resistance. Residents of the adjacent poor quarter painted the wall white and decorated it with flowers.
At first, policemen came every night, painted the wall black, tore out the flowers, even sawed off an iron cross the poor of Caonchali had put up.
There, people who barely had enough money to eat, let alone buy newspapers, demanded freedom of speech and honoured the courage of the journalist and his colleagues.
Take my words as a tribute to all those who had, have and will have the courage to speak out against injustice, arbitrariness and totalitarianism of any kind.
I am not sure I would have been or would be so courageous.
The peace of the night.

Bowing to the Victims of 9/11

For the sake of good order:
There have been thousands of victims of 9/11 whose names were not mentioned in New York today:
Victims of 9/11 1973 and . . .

Friday is Skyday

Leaning back to watch the sky
sometimes I try to count
how often those responsible for the politics
of the United States
have crossed a red line.

Recently I heard a peace-loving person murmur:
Isn't Obama but a fucking terrorist, himself?

Whom the (snow-)bells toll

Well, actually I intended just to title '... and some more', but would first time visitors have known I were refering to the previous post? [Ha ha, no link here!]
After all, one does not need to be arrogant to not expect too much from the average 'stumblers upon', hm? :)

Anyway, why Whom the (snow-)bells toll?
Nah :), not primarily as this would offer the opportunity to mention en passant, that about thirty years ago colleagues used to call me Hemingway, but because Schneeglöckchen translated in English are not snowdrops but snowbells.

Ahem ... end of the beforegoing.

It's often said that nature is 'magical'. A few people in Haiti, Chile and Turkey, to name but a few countries, would perhaps / probably not wholeheartedly agree these days, especially not those who are dead; well, and those who had / have to learn that what humans use to call natural desaster (or so) does not necessarily increase fellow sufferers' ethic standards.
Oh, by the way, did you hear, watch anything about Haiti during the past fortnight?
Nothing? Ah, I am so glad! Isn't this global solidarity wonderful a thing? Some benefit galas, and before you could say f.e. religion or helpfulness, all Haitians got a new roof over their heads, enough to drink and eat; hospitals, schools, ah ... the whole infrastructure was renewed.
Isn't it a pity that good news are (considered to be) no news?
Still, isn't it wonderful to live in these times? In times when no wo/man feels so desperate to fall on her/his knees and cry "Oh, please, God, help me!", as there's always a fellow human not only willing to be g(o)od but really does help?
Brave new world!

End of the beforegoing.

What you are witnessing, in case you did not a while ago surf on to the next world-shattering important blogger(s) is, what a tiny step it is from taciturnity to logorrhoea as, of course, I could just have written:

This was what I saw on Saturday.

This was what I saw on Sunday.

And this when looking a bit closer.

Apropos, looking closer. Just thinking of everything's fine by now in Haiti, Chile, Turkey .... ah, and, of course, in China's democracy, I am. Liu Xiabo is free!! And so is Hu Jia. No priest or imam letting a little boy suck their holy pricks, no freedom fighter in Kongo or elsewhere raping a girl or woman together with his fellow heroes, and when after some seconds his manhood's getting limp, letting do his bajonet - oh, well or a fucking wooden stick - the rest to increase the woman's delight; Mr. Obama has declared Order 81 null and void, and consequently the Masters of Monsanto became bio famers; in Nigeria ... ...

... ah! Stop! This could have become such a lovely little post!! Lovely little flowers in snow. How cute! Harbingers of spring. Now, isn't there still hope?! I mean, it does not happen often that seasons change, does it? It's really surprising.

Forget it!

Rather than going on boring you, I quit and go on writing three or four pages more of what's going to become another glorious novel that will shatter the world ... not.
Who cares?! As long as readers shovel money upon me. I consider it better than shovelling snow, anyway.

Even better than wasting your time.

The peace of the night.