tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-318445042024-02-02T01:28:34.063-05:00oneBrightpearlAll the universe is one bright pearl- we do not speak of two pearls or three pearls...your whole body is a radiant light. Your whole body is Mind in its totality...your whole body knows no hindrance. Everywhere is round, round, turning over and over.Johnnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03963904205772611218noreply@blogger.comBlogger145125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31844504.post-26149612943014452492017-10-10T18:00:00.000-04:002017-10-10T12:50:42.773-04:00Do Something!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE6Rr51jPfsEogiyNBMS_VGuskdnd__tFgadXecDceAZ1aHXfreYc6TBqCbdeiZkuZ7eFZg722VREu-2WRg6f5b7gYgtVsfGupt6m27fsoCwwjefbnf3GWut62oHlc6rt0UFtv/s1600/DSC01366.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE6Rr51jPfsEogiyNBMS_VGuskdnd__tFgadXecDceAZ1aHXfreYc6TBqCbdeiZkuZ7eFZg722VREu-2WRg6f5b7gYgtVsfGupt6m27fsoCwwjefbnf3GWut62oHlc6rt0UFtv/s640/DSC01366.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A young girl in the ruins of her home. Jabalia, Gaza, Nov 2012.</td></tr>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31844504.post-6521296965955109862017-10-10T12:49:00.003-04:002021-04-16T15:40:57.566-04:00Tomorrow Comes<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 31.5pt; text-indent: -31.5pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 31.5pt; text-indent: -31.5pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 31.5pt; text-indent: -31.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Roland<span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Iraq War veteran 22 years old<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 31.5pt; text-indent: -31.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Billie <span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>ROLAND’s
Father, A Vietnam Vet, Biker<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 31.5pt; text-indent: -31.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Lily<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>ROLAND’s Mother<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 31.5pt; text-indent: -31.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Dodge<span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>ROLAND’s Paternal Grandfather<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier";">Sarah<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>ROLAND’s Wife<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 31.5pt; text-indent: -31.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Angel <span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>ROLAND’s Daughter age 6<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 31.5pt; text-indent: -31.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Rich (Dick)<span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>A
war profiteer<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 2.0in; text-indent: -2.0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Diego (Garcia)<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>RICH’s
Houseman, called GARCIA by RICH<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 31.5pt; text-indent: -31.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Libby <span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>RICH’s
wife<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 31.5pt; text-indent: -31.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Abeer <span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>Iraqi
girl (14 years old)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 31.5pt; text-indent: -31.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Malik <span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>ABEER’s
sister (age 5)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 31.5pt; text-indent: -31.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Mother<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>ABEER
and MALIK’s Mother<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 31.5pt; text-indent: -31.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Baba<span style="mso-tab-count: 5;"> </span>ABEER
and MALIK’s Father<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 2.0in; text-indent: -2.0in;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Doc<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>ROLAND’s
best friend 23 years old<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 31.5pt; text-indent: -31.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Valentine (Val)<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>ROLAND’s
Christian Marine Buddy <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 31.5pt; text-indent: -31.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Goldie<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>ROLAND’s
Squad Leader 37 years old <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 31.5pt; text-indent: -31.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Tony<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>Green Marine Recruit<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 31.5pt; text-indent: -31.5pt;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Kenny<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>Green
Marine Recruit<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "courier";">ACT I<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: -31.5pt; text-indent: 31.5pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "courier";">Prologue:
</span></b><span style="font-family: "courier";">BILLIE’s arrival home.<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: -31.5pt; text-indent: 31.5pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "courier";">Scene 1</span></b><span style="font-family: "courier";">: <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>BILLIE’s
Kitchen, ROLAND’s brother has killed himself.<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: -31.5pt; text-indent: 31.5pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "courier";">Scene 2</span></b><span style="font-family: "courier";">: <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>RICH’s
Library, RICH watching TV, “Support Our Heroes.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: -31.5pt; text-indent: 31.5pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "courier";">Scene 3</span></b><span style="font-family: "courier";">: <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>BILLIE’s
Kitchen, Funeral for ROLAND’s brother.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: -31.5pt; text-indent: 31.5pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "courier";">Scene 4</span></b><span style="font-family: "courier";">: <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>ROLAND’s 1<sup>st</sup>
nightmare, Torture (4 mos later)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: -31.5pt; text-indent: 31.5pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "courier";">Scene 5</span></b><span style="font-family: "courier";">: <span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>ABEER’s trouble at the checkpoint, SARAH’s
fears.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: -31.5pt; text-indent: 31.5pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "courier";">Scene 6</span></b><span style="font-family: "courier";">: <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>RICH’s
interview.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: -31.5pt; text-indent: 31.5pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "courier";">Scene 7</span></b><span style="font-family: "courier";">: <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>SARAH leaves with ANGEL.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: -31.5pt; text-indent: 31.5pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "courier";">Scene 8</span></b><span style="font-family: "courier";">: <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>ROLAND’s 2<sup>nd</sup>
nightmare, Home invasions, Death of friends.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: -31.5pt; text-indent: 31.5pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "courier";">Act II<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: -31.5pt; text-indent: 31.5pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "courier";">Scene 1</span></b><span style="font-family: "courier";">: <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>ABEER and
MALAK, the smell of jasmine in springtime.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: -31.5pt; text-indent: 31.5pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "courier";">Scene 2</span></b><span style="font-family: "courier";">: <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>ROLAND and
New Platoon drink, talk about Rape.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: -31.5pt; text-indent: 31.5pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "courier";">Scene 3</span></b><span style="font-family: "courier";">: <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Rape and
murder.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: -31.5pt; text-indent: 31.5pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "courier";">Scene 4</span></b><span style="font-family: "courier";">: <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>ROLAND’s
last nightmare. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: -31.5pt; text-indent: 31.5pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "courier";">Scene 5</span></b><span style="font-family: "courier";">: <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>ROLAND’s confrontation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: -31.5pt; text-indent: 31.5pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "courier";">Scene 6</span></b><span style="font-family: "courier";">: <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>ROLAND
listens to RICH’s speech.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: -31.5pt; text-indent: 31.5pt;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "courier";">Scene 7</span></b><span style="font-family: "courier";">: <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>ROLAND
confronts RICH.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "courier";">We seem willing to regret the Iraq War, provided that we never have to face it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>Prologue</b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Projected on a curtain or scrim. A tarmac. Yellow ribbons and American flags abound. The sound of a jet’s engines winding down. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "courier";">(VOICEOVER announcement) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Please go welcome home your soldier!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">We hear ROLAND’s wife SARAH, Go hug your daddy! He’s a hero!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Up Stage Right ROLAND places his rucksack on the ground as his small daughter rushes toward him. He goes down to one knee and embraces her. He laughs as his daughter squeals. He picks her up and begins to walk off downstage left. From a distance we hear people calling out “thank you for your service” and other inanities. His smile vanishes. A Marine Corp Band plays “The Halls of Montezuma.” It is early spring.) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Fade to black)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>SCENE I Act 1</b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(WE are in the dilapidated kitchen of ROLAND’s childhood home. BILLIE (ROLANDS’s father) and DODGE (ROLANDS’s grandfather) are drinking coffee. They are not speaking. They are interrupted by a knock on the door.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>BILLIE</b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Barely lifting his head)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">It’s open. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(ROLAND enters he is in jeans, tee shirt and a cap.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b> </span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Hey Dad what’s going on? I got here as quick as I could.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>BILLIE</b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "courier";">(Standing, going to his son.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Not quick enough I’m afraid. He’s gone.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">What do you mean gone? Where did he go?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>DODGE</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Brusque)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">He’s gone to the morgue.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>BILLIE</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Last night, your brother shot himself. Right here in my bathroom. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(ROLAND grabs the chair back to steady himself)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">How? Why? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>BILLIE</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I don’t know what got into him. One minute he was all excited about you coming home, the next, he shoots himself.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Where’s Ma?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>BILLIE</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Your Mother is with him. She’s signing all the papers. Did you know he was an organ donor? Always thinkin about others, that one. Of course, they won’t be able to use the eyes.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">They can’t use the eyes? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>BILLIE</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">He shot himself clean through the right eye. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(ROLAND rushes off stage.) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>BILLIE</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Hey don’t go in there we haven’t finished cleaning up yet.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "courier";">(We hear sounds of ROLAND vomiting.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Great.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "courier";">(Fade to Black)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>SCENE I Act 2</b> </span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Lights up slowly. We are in RICH’s library, dark paneled walls, the hundreds of books on the shelves are of a conservative bent, but also include military history and political biography. A flat screen TV facing upstage a blue light emanating from it, no sound. There is a small desk and leather chair, and above the white-trimmed fireplace hang mementos. One is a U.S. Marine Corps Ceremonial Sword. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Light slowly up on RICH, an old, disheveled man. He does not look well. He is drinking scotch from a glass and having trouble catching his breath. The bottle sits on his desk, next to an American flag, tri folded in a display case. Near him is an oxygen machine with tubes and a mask. He mumbles to himself for a while.)</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">RICH has a remote in his hand and turns up the TV. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Voiceover)</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>TV MC</b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I am sick and tired of everybody out there complaining. I hear so many people complaining about everyday life- I didn’t get the right Mercedes, my house is too small, I didn’t get this or I didn’t get that. I ran into a guy in the lobby- he didn’t have a left foot. He lost it in Ramadi. He came up to me to thank me for what I am doing. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Incredulous)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">For what I do, Dude! I’m MCing a fundraiser. Thank you for your service. I want to say lets stop complaining, it’s really not that bad. You may not have the fanciest Mercedes but you still have your feet, don’t you? We are here tonight to celebrate our veterans- they keep us safe everyday. So let’s hear it for them. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Chants of USA, USA, USA.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I said, let’s hear it for them!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Chants grow louder. Cuts to an intro for a Mercedes commercial. RICH turns off the TV.) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>RICH</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I have the fanciest Mercedes. No complaints here. There is a cost to war, there is a benefit, oh yes, the benefit. (RICH smirks and sips his scotch) Keeping us safe. That’s what I like to hear.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(DIEGO, RICH’s Houseman, enters with a latte in a Starbucks cup with a cardboard Starbucks sleeve)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>RICH</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Isn’t that right GARCIA? There is a benefit. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(RICH pours the remainder of his scotch into the latte.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>DIEGO</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(He’s heard it a million times.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">That’s right, sir. There is a benefit.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Under his breath.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">And the cost you never pay.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>RICH</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">What’s that…</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(RICH’s laughs turns to wheezing, then coughing. He can’t catch his breath. The phone rings. DIEGO runs between the oxygen machine and RICH, putting the mask on upside down and turning on the oxygen. LIBBY, RICH’s wife, enters, quickly crosses, places the mask over RICH’s head properly and goes to the machine and regulates the airflow. The coughing fit subsides. Heavy breathing.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>LIBBY</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Why didn’t you answer the phone?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>RICH</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Trying to speak with the mask on, garbled.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I didn’t answer the phone because I was hacking out a lung.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>LIBBY</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">What?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>RICH</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Pissed off, pulling the mask from his face.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I didn’t answer the phone because I was hacking out a lung.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>LIBBY</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Ignoring him, delighted)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Well our prayers have been answered. That was Dr. Vorkevian on the phone. They have a heart for you. You must call him right back. I’ll grab your bag. Thank the Lord.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "courier";">(LIBBY Exits)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>RICH</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Thank the Lord? GARCIA, thank the Lord.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "courier";">(DIEGO looks skyward with his hands out imploring.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Thank my money getting me to the top of the list. That’s what needs thanking. Thank my money GARCIA.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>DIEGO</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Thanking the money! Thanking the money!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(RICH starts laughing and goes into another coughing fit.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Fade to Black)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>SCENE I Act 3 </b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Four days later, BILLIE’s kitchen. On the Kitchen table are photos of ROLAND and his older brother, Owen. Other photos of Owen in a cap and gown, Owen in his Marine Corp blues and in his camo with an M-16, a cigarette hanging from his lip. ROLAND’s mother LILY closes the back door and wipes tears from her eyes. BILLIE and DODGE stand stoically by her side. ROLAND holds SARAH’s hand and his family stand slightly aside. Metals and accolades cover the table as well as a bottle of Wild Turkey and several glasses.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>LILY</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Thank God they’ve left. His Marine buddies... he was so loved, by so many. It’s killing me. He was a good Christian. He loved his men. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>DODGE</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Of course they loved him. He was a leader of men and he was never one to turn down a challenge. He followed your advice, BILLIE- Each day, live life to the fullest, because tomorrow may not come. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Drinks)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">He even influenced his younger, didn’t he Roland? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I was an excitable boy, that’s all. I had a good time. It wasn’t like I was drowning puppies or anything. I mean I wasn’t an A student or captain of the football team. Buying cigarettes underage isn’t exactly a capital crime. Livin’ life to the fullest means different things to different people, gramps. And even daddy's been known to smoke some herb now and again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>SARAH</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Shush now RO. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "courier";">(Nodding toward ANGEL.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>DODGE</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I was thinkin about the time you were running naked through the woods claiming you were chasing rabbits.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>LILY</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">DODGE, now is not the time or the place.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>BILLIE</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">The point is your brother was a natural leader. He led from the front.</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>LILY</b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Oh, ROLAND I wish you were here. He just couldn’t talk to us, said we’d never understand. Maybe you could have talked to him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>BILLIE</b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">He was a different man after this deployment. His demons got’em.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>LILY</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I told him he was loved, no matter what. Jesus forgives. But Owen couldn’t forgive himself. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>BILLIE</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">He would get a far away look in his eyes. He’d go quiet, or I’d find him weeping. Cryin like a baby. That’s not your brother. He was tough, tough as any man I ever met. Cryin.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">He was the best damn sniper I know. No one had a bad thing to say about him. Killed more damn hadjis then whole teams combined. An American hero. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ANGEL</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Like you daddy, you’re a hero.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Aside, quietly)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "courier";">Not like me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>BILLIE</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I don’t understand. He seemed to be doing better. Then, last week, after we found out you were coming home, he seemed to fall apart.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">He told me the rush of combat was an adrenaline rush you couldn’t forget. What sticks with me is the smell of pulverized concrete and human flesh. He failed to mention that. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>SARAH</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Roland!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>BILLIE</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">He’d drink too much and tell us terrible stories. Your government hires you to kill and you’d better get good at it. It’s ugly. It’s dirty. You visit violence on others, there’s collateral damage. That’s the job.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>LILY</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I told him we were here to listen, you know, but that was too much.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>BILLIE</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Believe me Vietnam was no picnic, but over time you manage to bury it, get on with your life. I told him, give it time, you’ll bury it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>LILY</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Even in death he gave his heart, some young person will have another chance at living! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>BILLIE</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Come on, let’s have a drink.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>DODGE</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">The Marines was somethin he believed in. So there’s that.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>SCENE I Act 4</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(4 mos later. Late summer. Stage Left. ROLAND’s bedroom. ROLAND and SARAH are in bed. We hear heavy breathing shifting to moaning, thumping, and the sound of someone hitting the floor. Spotlight up very slowly on ROLAND on the floor, sweating profusely, a look of terror in his eyes, wired to survive. He has a gun in his hand. The spot light broadens to show SARAH sitting in bed.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>SARAH</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(very, very quietly) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Ro, you are ok, you are fine. You are safe.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(In one motion, ROLAND lunges, onto the bed and places the barrel of the gun against SARAH’s cheek. She screams. ROLAND cocks the gun. We hear ANGEL scream.) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ANGEL </b>(off stage)</span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Daddy!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "courier";">(Stage Left Quick fade to black.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Stage Right: Lights up, very bright. A man, naked, hooded, his wrists chained, his toes barely touching the floor, hangs from the ceiling of a small cage. A loud burst of intolerable music. He moans deeply. ROLAND, shirtless but in desert khakis walks toward him. He pounds him in the gut and knees him in the thigh several times.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Stop moaning. Bastard. Stop moaning. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Another loud moan erupts. ROLAND pulls his pistol and presses it to the detainee’s cheek.) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(The detainee whispers, not loud enough for us to hear. On the scrim behind the players we see his words, a prayer of mercy- in Arabic and in English.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Stage Right Quick fade to black)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Stage Left. Lights up slowly. SARAH’s lips are moving in prayer, we cannot hear her.) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(From the darkness of Stage Right, The detainee says the prayer in Arabic, then in English. Softly.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(There is pounding on the bedroom door. Cries of “Daddy!”)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>SARAH</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(very, very quietly) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Please don’t kill me. Please.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(ROLAND looks terrified. He eyes search the room. He uncocks the gun and drops his arm to his side. He looks at SARAH, she is shaking with fear.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(ANGEL enters. ROLAND quickly hides the gun.) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">It’s ok. Daddy was having a bad dream. It’s ok. It’s ok. It’s ok.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Lights fade) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>SCENE I Act 5</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Stage Right. ABEER’s MOTHER is standing in a simple kitchen, typical of poor farmers in Iraq. She is preparing a simple lunch. MALAK stands by her side, breaking the tomatoes off the vine. ABEER enters with a water container. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ABEER</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Father will be home shortly.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>MOTHER</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Lunch is almost ready. Start the tea, Abeer.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ABEER</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(ABEER fills the tea kettle and lights the burner.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Mother, the soldiers at the checkpoint keep calling to me. They make gestures. They laugh at me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>MOTHER</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Alarmed) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Do not look at them or answer them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(ABEER’s FATHER enters. He is a large man, he smiles broadly when he sees his wife and daughters. MALAK crosses to him and gives him a hug. He sees the concern on his wife’s face. He crosses to ABEER, his first, and embraces her gently, cradling her head.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">What is wrong? ABEER are you giving your mother a hard time about school?</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier"; font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div>
<b></b><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><b><span style="font-family: "courier";">MOTHER</span></b></b></div>
<b>
</b>
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">No. Worse. The soldiers. They say vile things to ABEER. They make monkey sounds. I’ve seen it myself.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>FATHER</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Worried, but hiding it) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Monkey sounds? Never mind them. They are just making noise. Abeer you are so young. They will not bother with you.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ABEER</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Father, they scare me. Why don’t they just leave us alone?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>FATHER</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Uncertain) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">They are here to protect us.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>MOTHER</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I will speak with your Aunt. I think it may be better if you stay with them for a while.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ABEER</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(ABEER stops pouring the tea.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Mama, no.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>MOTHER</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Abeer, do not argue.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Lights down, Stage right, Simultaneously, up stage left. Angel, ROLAND’s youngest is in the kitchen with SARAH)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ANGEL </b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Mama can I help?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>SARAH</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Yes, dear, bring me the carrots. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ANGEL</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">No, Mama, I want to help. Can’t I cut the carrots?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>SARAH</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Angel knives are dangerous, you are too little to use knives.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ANGEL</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Playing with the carrots)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Mama, why is Daddy so mad?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>SARAH</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Since the war, Daddy has very bad dreams. He isn’t mad at you. </span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier"; font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div>
<b></b><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><b><span style="font-family: "courier";">ANGEL</span></b></b></div>
<b>
</b>
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Sometimes Daddy scares me. Daddy can be a very scary man.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>SARAH</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">We need to do our best, Angel. Daddy loves you very much. He needs all our love. Let’s love Daddy as much as we can. He will get better. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(ROLAND yells from offstage.)</span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Hey, I’m home! Where is everybody? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Both SARAH and ANGEL freeze in fear)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>SCENE I Act 6</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Lights up on RICH’s porch. A makeup artist is finishing RICH’s face. He looks more robust. An interviewer relaxes across from RICH. Lighting for the interview comes up.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>INTEVIEWER</b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">So how has retirement been treating you? Have you been doing all the fishing you had hoped to?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>RICH</b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Well I have managed to get out on a few of my favorite rivers. After the transplant, I’m amazed how well I feel. I’m just grateful for another day. And I’m not really retired. I’m getting out on the lecture circuit again. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>INTEVIEWER</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">So, tell me, what do you know about your heart donor? What kind of life did they lead, who were they?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>RICH</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I don’t concern myself with that sort of thing. I can tell you I am grateful. A family suffered a tragedy. But this organ donation program is really something. I am grateful just to wake up in the morning. I tell you, kiss your loved ones, tell them you love them. I feel stronger everyday. I feel great.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>INTEVIEWER</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">You don’t have any curiosity?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>RICH</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">No, I look at it like this; it’s my new heart, not someone else’s used heart. And I always generically thank donors for the gift that I’ve been given, but I don’t spend time wondering who had it, what they’d done, what kind of person they may have been. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(RICH begins to chuckle.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">What if, God forbid, he was a liberal?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(RICH and Interviewer start laughing.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>INTEVIEWER</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">What if he was an environmentalist?</span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier"; font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div>
<b></b><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><b><span style="font-family: "courier";">RICH</span></b></b></div>
<b>
</b>
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">What if he were a peace activist?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(RICH and Interviewer laugh harder.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-family: "courier";">INTEVIEWER</span></b></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">What if he was a murderer?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(RICH and Interviewer can barely contain themselves.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>RICH</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">What if he were a Muslim?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>(Interviewer’s laughter abruptly ends.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>INTEVIEWER</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Seriously)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Why do you press on even in light of your health?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>RICH</b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Well, I worry about the people running our country. They appease the terrorists. As a nation we’re soft, weak. It is important to talk about the war on terror- our freedom is at risk. Across generations, brave Americans have served honorably and kept us safe. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>INTEVIEWER</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Did you serve your generation?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>RICH</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">At the time, I had other priorities. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>INTEVIEWER</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">As a soldier a lot is sacrificed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>RICH</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">But there are rewards too. There is the pride of developing one's character and becoming a leader. Knowing that our nation's cause is the hope of the world. Every man and woman in America's Armed Services is part of an unbroken line of achievement and honor. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>INTEVIEWER</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">The administration is saying that the central tenets of our anti-terrorism policy have amounted to torture. That soldiers as well as the CIA tortured people.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>RICH</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">We don't do torture. We checked. The Justice Department issues the requisite opinions in order to know where the lines were that you could not cross. The professionals involved in that program were very, very cautious, they wouldn't do anything without making certain it was authorized. And any suggestion to the contrary is just wrong. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Pause) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Do you think they love America, this administration? They have a funny way of showing it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>INTEVIEWER</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">The soldiers involved are under a great deal of scrutiny.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>RICH</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Every one of them deserves the thanks and the admiration of our entire country. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Pause) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">War is not a ladies auxiliary tea party. It’s all too easy for people comfortable in LA, or New York, to condemn the troops without context. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Pause) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">No single military power in history has done greater good, or upheld higher standards of decency and valor than our Armed Forces. You know, military service demands a special kind of sacrifice. The interests of the nation must always come first.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>INTEVIEWER</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">What sacrifices have you made? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>SCENE I Act 7</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(ROLAND sits close to SARAH. They are holding hands, deep in conversation filled with long pauses.) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>SARAH</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">ROLAND, I’m scared. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I love you. I would never harm you. These nightmares are killing me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>SARAH</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">You had a gun in my face! I want to support you, I want to be with you, I don’t know how. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">It’s like I never know when I am awake. What’s real? I’m awake right? But this shadow, this horror is going to swallow me. It’s not who I have become, it’s who I am and it is ugly.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>SARAH</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I just don’t know what to do. I’m going to have a breakdown. I’ve let you down, I’m not strong enough. Angel is terrified.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">ANGEL? ANGEL is terrified? Look, I have another appointment. I’ll ask them to adjust my meds.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>SARAH</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">In a month you have an appointment. I don’t know if I have a month. I’m afraid to go to sleep at night. I know what you’ve been through was terrible. But how can you manage to be here, now, with us. Without destroying us? </span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier"; font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div>
<b></b><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><b><span style="font-family: "courier";">ROLAND</span></b></b></div>
<b>
</b>
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I just don’t know where to turn. I can’t reconcile my... I’m stuck in a loop in my head. The past is like a freight train barreling through. I can’t accept... unacceptable.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>SARAH</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I was thinking we might stay with my mom for a while. She’s just in town. I could bring Angel to visit.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Distraught)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I need you. I’m so sorry, for everything. I am so sorry. Please don’t quit on me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>SARAH</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">It’ll just be temporary ROLAND. I’ll go with you to the VA. We’ll see your counselor. We’ll work through this. It will be better.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(ROLAND wipes his eyes and rests his head on his wife’s shoulder. She cradles his head. LILY enters with a bouquet.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>LILY</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">There you are. I am going to see your brother. Do you want to come with me? It is so tranquil at Mount Comfort. I’m glad he is so close to us, instead of Arlington. It seems so cold there, all those crosses exactly the same, you could get lost. Come with me, we’ll say a prayer.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Thanks mom, but I’ll pass. Maybe another day.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>LILY</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Ok, but it’ll cheer you up. It’s a relief to know Owen is at peace, resting by our creator’s side.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Peace. Jesus.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>SCENE I Act 8</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(2 rooms of a small house. DOC and GOLDIE are in the room stage right, tossing the room, searching for weapons.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(As lights come up we can hear Goldie barking commands along with small arms fire, screaming.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>GOLDIE</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">There is nothing here. Let them go, let’s move. Let’s go, let’s go! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(The rest of the team enter and follow GOLDIE through the hole in the wall into the darkened stage left room) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(In the dark we hear a voice crying out.) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>IRAQI WIFE</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Laish? Laish? Laish? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Translated on scrim Why? Why? Why?)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(ROLAND’s team pushes past her, exiting stage left through another hole blasted in the stage left wall. ROLAND is the last of the team to move into the room. He steps into the bedroom. Lights up in the room. The bodies of two young boys and a young father are lying dead in a corner. The wife/mother bloodied, stands in the doorway. ROLAND’s legs buckle. He leans against the wall for support. He can’t breathe. He hangs his head and begins sobbing. The WIFE comes over to him. She stops screaming. She looks him in the eyes.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>IRAQI WIFE</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Inshallah. Inshallah. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(The English translation, “God’s will” drifts across the scrim.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Looks at her, mumbles)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I’m sorry. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(ROLAND exits stage left. Lights slow fade.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>SCENE I Act 9</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Lights up on ROLAND. He is sitting on a bar stool, drinking. Three of his Marine buddies (GOLDIE, DOC and VAL, in tank tops and desert camo) sit with him, their kelvar, guns, and gear nearby. GOLDIE remains a silent witness throughout.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">It’s so great to just chill with you. </span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>DOC</b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(His left bicep displays a tattoo of the Marine Corps emblem – a globe, an anchor and a bald eagle clutching a streamer displaying the Corps motto, Semper Fidelis. With his broad shoulders, crew cut and glowing smile, he could be the poster boy for recruiters.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Dude, great to see you. I can’t believe it.</span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>VAL</b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(VAL has the words “Semper Fi” Tattooed across his chest and Natural Born Killer down his right arm, His left arm has Jesus on a crucifix wrapped in an American flag. He is tall, gangly, with black-rimmed glasses)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Mocking)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I don’t believe it.</span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Laughing) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Shut the fuck up. Seriously think I’m losing it. What becomes of us?</span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>DOC</b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Talk to me. I got your back man, always have.</span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Things have changed.</span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>VAL</b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Sure have. You look like shit. Haunted.</span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Remember when we went to the recruiter. We wanted to serve our country. We wanted to fight. </span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>DOC</b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Convinced. Convinced it was our duty. It wasn’t a choice, we had to join. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">My old man served, my granddaddy. He told us we could serve with honor. We could be part of something. </span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>VAL</b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Get the hell out of here.</span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Yeah. Said they’d make me a man.</span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>VAL</b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">They have. A broken man, a shell of a man.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Remember the crucible? It was somethin. I knew then I was a soldier.</span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>VAL</b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Yeah, that was something. But it wasn’t nothing compared to Anbar.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">When I got that Eagle, Globe and Anchor, I was never so proud. I was born again. I could feel everything the DI said right in my heart. Like Marine Corp was tattooed on my soul forever.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>DOC</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Dude, we did the best we could. We didn’t know. For everything we thought we had learnt, we didn’t know shit.</span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier"; font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div>
<b></b><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><b><span style="font-family: "courier";">VAL</span></b></b></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Laughing) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">A noble cause, men. A noble cause. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">This war, it’s not like my daddy’s war, or my granddaddy’s war. Those wars meant something. This is for nothing. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>VAL</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Dude, First, I would reevaluate your ideas on Vietnam... But listen, securing peace, and uplifting the good in these god-forsaken lands means something, I still believe that. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Is that what we are doing? Is it what we’ve ever done? My family are soldiers. I wanted to follow them.</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier"; font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div>
<b></b><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><b><span style="font-family: "courier";">VAL</span></b></b></div>
<b>
</b>
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Did you ever ask them how the war looked to them? Look, to restrain evil out of love for my neighbor- is a God-like act. Rely on a higher power my friend. We are warriors for Jesus. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Damn, my mother would love you. I thought I was fighting evil. It was black and white for a while, then white and black. Everything turned around. I fought to survive. Then, I fought to get even.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>VAL</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">My job is to help liberate humanity. Hardship, struggle, brotherhood- that’s our salvation. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>DOC</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">The hell with all that. Jesus don’t know shit about IEDs. All I know I gotta be here for another year and there ain't shit I can do about it. I just want to go home alive. I don't give a rat’s ass about the whole thing. I don't care.</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier"; font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div>
<b></b><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><b><span style="font-family: "courier";">ROLAND</span></b></b></div>
<b>
</b>
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I hear ya on that. Do whatever is necessary.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Shakes his head)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Cheers! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Everyone drinks)</span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>DOC</b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I love my fuckin’ country. I love it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">A patriot. I am a fucking patriot. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(As though reminding himself)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I’m a force for good. A force for good.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "courier";">(Drinks)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I told my father I was heading to Iraq and he said, Good. It’s about time you became a man. Then he tells me, just don’t be a pussy. I told him, I thought you’d tell me to come home safe, maybe give me a hug. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Laughs)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Nope, all he said is don’t be a pussy. I told ‘em I’d try my best.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>DOC</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I thought we would earn their respect. </span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">You did. You did that. </span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>DOC</b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Yeah, draped in an American flag.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I can’t even look in the mirror. Who can I talk to about this? You would rather die than hear what I am about to say.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>DOC</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">We gotta go. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(DOC embraces ROLAND for a second too long.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">DOC (cont.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Stay safe brother. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(The three marines get up, grab their kelvar and M-16’s and cross the stage. At mid-stage they shift to stances of being on patrol. The sound of a big explosion, a flash of light and smoke. When the smoke clears the three marines are in pieces on the ground.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Jumping from his bar stool, ROLAND moves towards his friends.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Nooooo. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(He stops center stage.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Lights Down)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Lights up slowly. Sitting amongst the gore, covered in gore himself, ROLAND is drinking from a bottle of tequila with his wife (SARAH remains unbloodied.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I got up in the middle of a cloud of smoke. The ground was slippery. Something was dripping from my face. I thought I was bleeding. I rubbed it between my fingers. Bone. I thought I was dead. I searched my body for the wound. Then I saw my friends. Just pieces. (He takes a swig and hands the bottle to SARAH, who drinks long.) DOC’s head was hanging by a thread. I cradled him and begged him not to go. Slippery. Wet. Alpha came around the corner. They looked at me. They looked at me, they saw a ghost. I had a concussion and headaches for weeks, until now. I went for counseling, I did. I told them all I wanted was to kill Iraqis, just kill as many as I could. I told them. I did. I told them I was crazy. I was given sedatives and told to rest. I was sent to a new unit. Daylight speared into my brain. At night my heart beats so hard I think the evac-choppers are coming in.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(ROLAND sits cradling his friend’s remains as lights slow fade.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(During fade) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">DOC still comes to me in my dreams. He asks me… </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Blackout)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>DOC</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Spot on DOC standing downstage in his dress blues, with ceremonial sword.) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">What are you gonna do now? You‘re fresh out of friends. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Whispers) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Ooh-Rah. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">From that moment on, I was a dead man. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>END OF ACT 1</b></span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier"; font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div>
<b></b><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<b><b><span style="font-family: "courier";">ACT II Scene 1</span></b></b></div>
<b>
</b>
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Lights up on MALAK as she “studies” English. The living area is all but empty, an old TV on a table in the corner, with cushions on a worn carpet. She scribbles furiously. She is concentrating as hard as a 5 year old can muster)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>MALAK</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Ohhhh. I’ll never get it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(ABEER enters carrying vegetables from the garden, she is happy and smiling)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ABEER</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Malak! You are learning with my English books again?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>MALAK</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Yes. I wish to learn English.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ABEER</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Why, sweet MALAK? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>MALAK</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I want to tell the soldiers to go away. We are happy without them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ABEER</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Oh, hush. It is such a beautiful day. Spring is finally here. The jasmine has bloomed. Smell! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(She holds her wrist to MALAK’s nose.) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">You should play outside. Come now. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(ABEER snatches the book away and runs. MALAK follows her outside, screaming and laughing.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ACT II Scene 2</b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(ROLAND sits around a plastic table, playing cards with TONY and KENNY. They are drinking whiskey. They are already drunk, and talk over each other. They are in various stages of undress, with helmet and weapons propped nearby. All are getting drunker as the scene goes on.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Jesus, I’m bored to tears. This place is makin me crazy. Why aren’t we doing something.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>TONY</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Take it easy, it’s too hot to move, never mind patrol. Have a drink.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">That’s your answer to everything. Have a drink.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>TONY</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Passes bottle.) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><span style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Take a drink, asshole.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>KENNY</b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Drunk)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">You know what I don’t understand, we’ve been here for a six months.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Talking over KENNY)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Yeah dude, I’ve been here a year. I was with the best damn crew to be found in this godforsaken sandbox. They held me up. I miss those bastards. Why the fuck am I here? I’m losing it. I go to psych and they tell me alright, suck it up, wipe the sand out of your crack and get on with the mission. And they tell me to rest. Rest? Rest brings on the horror show. Sleep hurts.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(TONY slides the bottle over, ROLAND drinks.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Why the fuck haven’t we gone after Ali Baba who killed my boys?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(ROLAND drinks.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">And then they throw me in with you fucking fobbits. Fuckin’ groundhogs day.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>KENNY</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Would you quit whining and hear me out, first, we’ve been here six months and killed plenty of Hadjis. So how is it we haven’t fucked a single one?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>TONY</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">That‘s the truth. Why is that? What’s up with that ROLAND? How many Hadjis have you fucked in a year?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">None.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>KENNY</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(TONY and KENNY, laughing, derisively.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">You’ve been here a year? What the hell?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>TONY</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Fucking be a man.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">But there’s a girl and she lives just near here.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>KENNY</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Not that baby on that farm a click or 2.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">She is not a baby. She‘s at least 14. That’s marrying age around here.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>TONY</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Let’s do it. But there can’t be any witnesses.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I’ll kill the whole Hadji family if you want me too Sarge. Kill ‘em all. I don’t care. Kill every last one of them.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>SCENE II Act 3</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(ABEER’s MOTHER enters with a broom, begins sweeping the rug and cleaning the room. The offstage laughter of ABEER and MALAK can be heard. The mother is singing sweetly to herself. (In Arabic, translated on the background) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">“Like a Raindrop”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>MOTHER</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Like a raindrop</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I was alone darling</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Alone, my darling</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Like a raindrop</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">MALAK</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Enters, out of breath. Hugs her mom, sings overly dramatic, fluttering eyebrows and all)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Don't be sad</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Tomorrow I will buy you the moon </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">and a morning star</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">And a garden of flowers</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>MOTHER & MALAK</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Tomorrow, if I return from my journey </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Tomorrow, if leaves sprout in my ribs of stone</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">But today I'm alone my darling</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Alone my darling like a raindrop.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>MOTHER</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Where is Abeer?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>MALAK</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">She has gone to the well. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ABEER</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Screams)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(TONY & KENNY pull ABEER into the room, KENNY has his hand over her mouth. MOTHER jumps up, shielding MALAK and moving toward ABEER. TONY shoves her back, points his rifle at her. ROLAND enters pushing the Father ahead of him.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(ROLAND stands guard over the family with the family’s AK-47 and a shotgun slung over his shoulder, as TONY and KENNY drag ABEER to the next room.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>MOTHER</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(In Arabic, translation on scrim)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">What are you doing? ABEER do as they say. Stop this. How can you harm a child? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>FATHER</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(In Arabic, translation on scrim, Overlapping with MOTHER)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">How dare you enter this house? We’ve cooperated. We trusted you. Enough. If you harm my daughter, I will kill you.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Cocking and pointing AK-47 at FATHER)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Everybody just calm down and shut up. I don’t understand. And I don’t care. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Shut the fuck up!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>MOTHER</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Mother begins praying/cursing in Arabic, translated on Scrim)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ABEER</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(ABEER speaks in Arabic, translated on scrim)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I love you Mama, I love you Father. Malak, stay strong. Remember the jasmine in the spring.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(ABEER cries out in pain and her scream is muffled.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(MOTHER pushes past FATHER and nears ROLAND. He fires one shot and she drops to the floor dead. FATHER shields MALAK, after the shot, he charges. The AK47 jams and they grab each other. ROLAND fires the shotgun, killing FATHER. MALAK, covered in blood moves downstage, facing audience. She screams. ROLAND clears the AK 47 and shoots her from where he stands.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(ROLAND turns to enter the next room. He takes off his flak jacket and puts down the shotgun. He unzips his fly, and enters the room. We here a cry, and some grunting as lights slowly die. Just before blackout, we here a single shot.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>SCENE II Act 4</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Spot on ROLAND as he sits at his kitchen table. GOLDIE, VAL, DOC, BILLIE and DODGE sit around him. It is 4:30 am. 15 bottles of different pills litter the table. A ½ bottle of Wild Turkey on the counter, a couple empty beer cans, more on ice. He is playing with his 9 mm. He is not drunk.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>DOC</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Soldier, what were you thinking? I love you like a brother, but you were wrong, dead wrong.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Shamed)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I was drunk. High. Look, I just didn’t care. I was a dead man. All of me. I am a dead man.<span style="white-space: pre;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I lost it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>BILLIE</b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Drunk)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">You fucking pussy.</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>VAL</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">You’ve gotta get yourself right with God.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>GOLDIE</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Honor, courage, commitment son. Core values of the U.S. Marine Corp. Honor- the bedrock of who we are. You’ve tarnished my reputation, and worse, you have tarnished the institution. We only wanted the best of the best. We’d weed out the little wussies that didn’t want to be real people. You’re a Marine. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>DODGE</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">You’re a Marine. What the hell does that mean? Some gold standard of warrior? I was in the WWII. We rampaged across France raping the women we liberated. Saving Fucking Private Ryan doesn’t mention that does he? We were all heroes. Are you kidding me? We did chemical weapons tests on our own troops. They wanted to see if mustard gas affected black men differently than whites. That’s crazy shit. Damn it’s all lies. Heroes my ass. War is carnage and vileness. Core values. Core values. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Grandpa why didn’t you ever talk to me? And what about killing? Why isn’t killing a core value? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>DODGE</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Almost poetic)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I was 18. Hiding in the forest just outside a village. I got separated from my guys. The sun was sinking behind me, illuminating the trees across this big golden field. I could see the enemy across the way. And I could see this young kid crawling in a ditch straight toward my position. He kept comin (uneasy giggle), I let him crawl. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Side tracked) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I was 18, I didn’t know shit. They call it the Good War, We firebombed Hamburg, Dresden, 67 Japanese cities 67, incinerated... </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(shaking his head) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I digress, out there in the trees, look, there was nothing good about... when he got within 10 or 15 feet of me I screamed for him to stop. He was shocked. He raised his gun. That was death for him. But this young man, he was beautiful. Fair skin, blond hair, and crystal clear blue eyes. A blue the color of the sky. He was beautiful. He was like an angel. I shot him- right in the heart. And it didn’t bother me that first night. I was bone tired. But the second night I woke up crying, because that boy was right there. And to this day I wake up crying. I still see this angel in my dreams. I just don’t know how to get him off my mind... I never told anyone this story til just now.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Addressing Goldie)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">You make them army strong. But after that, they’re just not strong enough.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Pointing at GOLDIE, entreating) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">You demanded I hate. To survive. You taught me to kill. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(He breaks into a Marine Corp Cadence)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Hail, hail, infantry </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Queen of battles, follow me </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Marine Corps life is the life for me </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Cause nothing in this life is free. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Kick in the door, what do I see </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">a whole fucking Hadji family </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">pull the pin and toss the room</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I stand outside I hear the boom </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Blood and guts are everywhere </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I even got some in my hair </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I pick it out and i say </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Hadji, Hadji it’s not your day </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Hadji, Hadji can’t you see </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">USMC was made for me</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>GOLDIE </b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">We have a job to do gentlemen. War is brutal. In order to win in war we must be more brutal than the enemy. Anything less will ensure defeat. Get ready!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Clapping his hands in time)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Fired up</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Everybody</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Fired up</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I am </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Lean and mean</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Rough and tough</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I know my stuff</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I can run</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">All day</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I can fight</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">All night</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I’m gonna be</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">infantry</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I’m airborne</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(ROLAND, DOC & VAL clap in cadence)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">You got the feeling</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">In your heart</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Sound off</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Everybody </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">We gonna rock</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(ROLAND, DOC & VAL join in repeating each line in cadence)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">All right</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Hey Hey</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Every day</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I’m motivated</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I’m dedicated</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I can run</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I can jump</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">A Paratrooper</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">A superdooper</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">A Paratrooper</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">All right</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">How ya lookin</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Lead: Lookin good </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Group-Lookin good</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Lead- Hollywood [returns to regular pattern]</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">All right</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">You’re dynomite</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Hey hey</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Everybody</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Feelin good</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Fired up</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Motivated</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Dedicated </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Claps continue for 2 meters)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Over clapping)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I did it for you. I did it for all of you. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(DOC pats him on the shoulder, hugs him hard, VAL looks at him with pity, & GOLDIE looks down dejected) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">If I thought it was an ok thing now I wouldn’t be much of a human being would I?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Would I? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>GOLDIE</b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">In defense of all we hold dear back home, we fight. We will locate, disrupt, and destroy the enemy. I’m looking forward to this fight because we’re going to smoke check these motherfuckers.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>DOC, VAL & GOLDIE</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(His three buddies exit to GOLDIE calling cadence)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Hail, hail, infantry </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Queen of battles, follow me </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Marine Corps life is the life for me </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Cause nothing in this life is free. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Here I lie in this foreign land </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Bleeding on this foreign sand. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Ground around me turning red </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">By the time they find me, I'll be dead. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Hail, hail, infantry...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>SCENE II Act 5</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(ROLAND’s kitchen. ROLAND is sitting center downstage facing audience)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I had a mission. I
never denied what I did. I have done evil, but I am not an evil man. I’m a
believer. I love my family. I love my country. I’m being straight with you. This
isn’t a story anyone wants to hear. Look, what you see on the news isn’t real.
It’s not so simple. They talk about bad apples, call me a disgrace. They want
to create this space between me and them. I’m not that much different than you.
I wasn’t much for high school, drank plenty of beers… but that’s my family, we
drink. I’d cut out to go to the river plenty. That’s where I met SARAH. The best
thing that ever happened to me. Then came the war. I joined willingly. I turned
my head and I was in the desert. A 120 fuckin degrees in the shade. My brother
never talked about this stuff. My dad is right, I’m weak, I couldn’t hold a
candle to him. I thought I’d come home clean. I thought I’d be tellin stories
of building soccer fields for the kids, liberating women, finally some respect.
Then I come home, I’m fending for myself. I’m not making excuses. Paxil,
Zoloft, Lexapro, Trazodone. I call them my I don’t kill people drugs. The last
thing I thought was that one day I’d be home, dealing with this. What I thought
was normal is the farthest thing from normal. I am trying to make sense of who
I am. You call me a coward. I went to war. Revenge is wrong? In war? When your
family is hit, don’t you want revenge? I’m asking you. Or do you forgive? Who
is eligible for forgiveness? I’ve been discarded like yesterdays trash. I’m
invisible to you but I am here. Chris Kyle- You know him right, he’s a superhero.
Like my brother, he was a sniper. He killed hundreds. He said <span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">he loved what he did. He said he wasn’t exaggerating
to say it was fun. </span>Some killing’s just fine with you isn’t it? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>(Shaking head, smiles.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Courier; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Fun. I quote him a
lot. He also said, “I hate to say it, but when you’re back and you’re just
walking around a mall or something, you feel like a pussy.” And this gem, “If
you hate the war, that’s fine. You should still support the troops. They give
the American people a blank check for anything up to and including the value of
their lives, and the least everyone else can do is be thankful.” What about
you? Where do you stand in all this? When you say, “Thank you for your
service,” what exactly are you thanking me for? Do you realize my service is
killing? Or maybe you thank me for something else, something you can’t bear? Do
you support the troops? Fuck Chris Kyle. And now what? I don’t stand a chance,
and I don’t blame you for what I have become.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>SCENE II Act 6</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Lights up on ROLAND’s kitchen. ROLAND is alone. Listening to RICH’s interview. He is drinking a glass of orange juice. The sun sets through the kitchen window.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>RICH</b> (Voiceover)</span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">No single military power in history has done greater good, liberated more people, or upheld higher standards of decency and valor than the Armed Forces of the United States of America. You know, military service demands a special kind of sacrifice.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(ROLAND turns off the TV and throws the remote across the table.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">This family? We sacrificed. Him sitting on his porch drinking iced tea, not so much. Telling me about sacrifice? Telling me about service? He’s got balls. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Quiet)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">My brother died twice for this country. Once in Iraq and once in the god damn bathroom. Wait a minute. Wait a minute. What day did that SOB get his transplant? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Realizing the worst) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">No, no, no. Wait a fucking minute. Are you kidding me? My brother was a good man. He had heart. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Pushes back his chair and stands)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I’ve done terrible things but I’ll got a mission. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>SCENE II Act 7</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(RICH’s library, early evening. RICH sits at his desk, feet up, back to the door, reading. Pounding on the door.)</span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>RICH</b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Why the hell are you pounding? The door is open. Where the hell is my latte?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(The door opens DIEGO stumbles forward followed closely by ROLAND, who has a pistol at his side. DIEGO hands RICH his latte. RICH adds his remaining scotch. DIEGO is shaking.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>RICH</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(RICH looks over his shoulder and notices ROLAND, not turning around.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Who are you soldier? What do you want? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">This place doesn’t look anything like on TV. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>RICH</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">This isn’t TV soldier. How did you get in here? Security like Fort Knox.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Respect for the uniform I guess. Like a ninja, a ghost, all Rambo like. I just drove right up to the front door, no questions asked.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>RICH</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b><br /></b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Faces Roland)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Are you intoxicated, you are acting a bit strange.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I’m off my meds. It makes me unpredictable.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>RICH</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Well what do you want? Security will be here in minutes. Make it quick, I’m a busy man.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">It will be quick alright. If I hadn't ever been in Iraq, I wouldn't be in the kind of trouble I'm in now. I'm not happy about that.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>RICH</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">And that’s my fault? We are keeping America safe, son. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">My brother is dead. He kept America safe. He came home and died.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>RICH</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">A man who has nothing he is willing to fight for, nothing that he cares more about than his own personal safety, is a miserable creature who has no chance of being free, unless he is made free by the exertions of better men than himself. That’s a quote son, John Stuart Mill, ever hear of him?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Snarls)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Don’t you patronize me. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>RICH</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Just relax. Have a seat. What can I do for you? </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I believed you. I joined the fight.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Sweating. Taking off his Jacket. He wipes his brow.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I’ll tell you what I want. I want an apology. Here and now. And I am taking back what doesn’t belong to you.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>RICH</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Apologize? I don’t apologize, it’s not in my vocabulary. Go see Kissinger. He called military men “Dumb, stupid animals to be used as pawns for foreign policy.” Me, I’ve always supported the troops. I haven’t done anything I wouldn’t do again son.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Don’t call me son.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>RICH</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">They hate us for our freedoms.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">They hate us for our freedom--- what do you think I’m stupid? I’ve been there. I know why they hate us. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">The day I shipped out you shook my hand and thanked me for my service. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>RICH</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I shake a lot of hands. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Reaches out to shake hands.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Thank you for</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Apoplectic) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I don’t want your thanks. Sitting here in your library sipping your lattes. You don't know anything about what it's like to be out there on the line.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>RICH</b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Confused)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Son, What line? Are you having trouble with the VA? I thought that issue was resolved.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Waiting times are now only 40 days. They gave me more pharmaceuticals than Elvis. They told me to get more sleep. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>RICH</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Are you getting more sleep?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Nothing but nightmares. You. My nightmare. My wounds are not invisible.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(ABEER, bloodied, her clothes burned off her, a look of distress and fear on her face, her hands out from her sides silently crosses the stage. This should imitate the iconic photo of Phan Thi Kim Phuc fleeing her village in Vietnam after it was hit with napalm) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Do you see? ...I can still smell her. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>RICH</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(RICH sees nothing. Sneers) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">See what? Smell who? And I don’t have anything that belongs to you. Son, buck up. This conversation is over. GARCIA will show you to the door.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(RICH sips his latte.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Don't call me son.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "courier";">(Roland points his gun at RICH, RICH sits back down, quickly)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I saw your interview. I did a little research. You got your heart on April 1st didn’t you?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(For the first time RICH really looks at ROLAND, hesitates.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Didn’t you?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(DIEGO is shaking his head no, vigorously.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>RICH</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I got my heart transplant on April 3rd.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Pulling out a crumpled NY Times article. Waving it.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">NY Times, April 2nd, announcing your transplant. My brother died on April 1st. He killed himself just a few miles from here, but a world away. His was a broken dream, built on a shit heap of lies. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>RICH</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Don’t believe everything you read in the Times. Filled with liberal bias.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Pause. ROLAND considers this.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(ROLAND lunges. DIEGO screams. RICH whimpers. ROLAND cuts out RICH’S heart with his KBar. ROLAND grabs RICH by the collar and dumps his lifeless body on the floor. He grabs the Marine Corp ceremonial sword from the wall. He sits in RICH’s chair, blood running down his arms. ROLAND wipes the sweat from his brow, a smile on his face. He sips from RICH’s scotch. His pistol sits on the table He is waving around his bloody KBar, DIEGO cowers in a corner.) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Singing) (Note: This is a rip off of a Lee Greenwood song. Possible Copyright issues.) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Today the things I’ve known are gone </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">That I’ve worked for all my life </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">And I have to start again </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Without my children and my wife </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I thank my lucky charms, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I’m still standing here today </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Old glory still stands for freedom </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">And they can’t take that away </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">I’m proud to be an American, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Where I still dream I’m free. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">And I don't forget the men who died, </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";">who gave that right to me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(We hear helicopters outside. We also hear a message over a PA: The police are surrounding the house. There is no escape. Come out with your hands up, etc. ROLAND stands and picks up his jacket and puts it on. He wipes the knife blade and tucks it in its sheath. He picks up his pistol.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>ROLAND</b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">The few, the proud, the Marines. Ooh-Rah. Can I get an Ooh-Rah? Be All You Can Be.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(A SWAT team pounds on the door. A brief moment of silence. ROLAND points his pistol to his eye.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">Let the Journey Begin. Aim High. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(A shot rings out simultaneous to Blackout.) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">(Darkened stage. VOICEOVER. ROLAND reading the most recent Marine Corp advertising campaign)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";">It is a right of passage. A challenge to join the elite. And if you succeed, if you can master your fear, outsmart your enemy and never yield even to yourself, you will be changed forever. Many will hear the call. Few will earn the title. (weeping) The few, the proud… (sobbing, can not continue.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier";"><b>THE END.</b></span><br />
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
Johnnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03963904205772611218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31844504.post-38825301228974767942015-08-11T08:49:00.003-04:002015-08-11T08:49:23.165-04:00last night i dreamed<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Last night i dreamed i was dying<br /> my eyes were closed i was flyin<br /> woke this morning to a world in tatters<br /> seems everyday my heart is shattered<br /> 2 friends have passed in the night<span class="text_exposed_show"><br /> a baby dead in a firefight<br /> boys gone fishin lost at sea<br /> people fighting to be free<br /> Hatred burns in too many hearts<br /> the worlds on fire<br /> when will it stop<br /> Last night i dreamed i was dying<br /> Last night i dreamed i was dying</span></div>
Johnnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03963904205772611218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31844504.post-22110728749077700662015-06-08T07:04:00.001-04:002015-06-08T09:15:40.094-04:00Crossing Rafah part 3<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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At the Travel Hall we join another crowd, once again pushing
and shoving to get through the narrow doorway. We manage to get to the middle
of the crowd and are funneled into the hall. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The cavernous hall is packed. We drop our bags against a
wall. Hanaa* goes to buy something to drink; I push my way through the crowd to
the counter to try and get the man behind the glass to take our passports. He finally
takes them, gives them a quick glance, and throws them back at me. Our exit
papers don’t have the proper stamps. We need to go to a different counter and
then return. After getting the stamps affixed to the exit paper, I shove my way
forward yet again and get the passports into the hands of the agent. He puts
them in a stack of dozens and hands them to another man who takes them into a
nearby office. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We slump to the floor as near to the counter as we can get.
It is 2:30 pm. We spend the next three hours waiting, listening through the din
of the crowd for our names to be called. There is no intercom system, no
monitors to show your name, just people shouting out names. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipDkvOuuxDjdz8TtYJc1-qp2XlLHid34hq7dpjgg8EwvR1NS7Hx22cJwB-t8FKOvYQshtG-zMQcZMWJj1LoRVmIeXIjnOpcC2_toB0OoehTDrIsIJlzYzwh3qAwW50g_Ermdr0/s1600/Windows+Phone_20150526_16_31_11_Pro__highres.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipDkvOuuxDjdz8TtYJc1-qp2XlLHid34hq7dpjgg8EwvR1NS7Hx22cJwB-t8FKOvYQshtG-zMQcZMWJj1LoRVmIeXIjnOpcC2_toB0OoehTDrIsIJlzYzwh3qAwW50g_Ermdr0/s320/Windows+Phone_20150526_16_31_11_Pro__highres.jpg" width="320" /></a>Hanaa is exhausted, shaking, and barely able to move. We
share a small bottle of water and a soda. At 5:30 the man next to us explains
he has been waiting since noon. We entered the hall almost 2 hours after he did.
Apparently there are issues with the computer systems and the phone lines to
Cairo. This is the same excuse that was given to me in 2011 as I waited 6 hours
at the gate before I was allowed to proceed. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The snack bar runs out of water, soda, tea, and coffee.
There is no food except crackers and candy. The trash receptacles are full and
overflowing. People throw their trash on the floor. The two bathrooms, each
with only four stalls, are filthy. The air is stagnant and hot. The hall is
full; all the chairs are taken. The aisles are blocked by people sitting on the
floor and the piles of luggage. People are exhausted. Old women slump to the
floor crying. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0f3cnqisVZ5zAslQ66xnoZ8KXsS5i2m_djPCisr4zz37TZqS4Pr5vgHXrglb1Wdm-3_3B7zgK6-sVBidtI1NYw16ixxi9_lo9R7_Krl884J6CXCoQnxZCdrhbA7mn5-SXmNK5/s1600/Windows+Phone_20150526_19_31_57_Pro__highres.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0f3cnqisVZ5zAslQ66xnoZ8KXsS5i2m_djPCisr4zz37TZqS4Pr5vgHXrglb1Wdm-3_3B7zgK6-sVBidtI1NYw16ixxi9_lo9R7_Krl884J6CXCoQnxZCdrhbA7mn5-SXmNK5/s320/Windows+Phone_20150526_19_31_57_Pro__highres.jpg" width="320" /></a>Three men are stamping the passports that come back from the
<span class="st"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Mukhabarat (Egypt’s Intelligence
Service).</span></span> A thousand or more people are waiting. After stamping
the passport, the agent shouts out the person’s name and waits for them to
fight through the crowd to the counter. People begin raising their hands and
the men just fling the passports into the crowd. I walk around a corner, down the
main hallway to a guarded door that leads to the back offices. I’m told to go
away, to wait out front with everyone else. Old women, people in wheelchairs,
young moms with kids in tow were all pleading for something to be done. For
hours I would walk back and forth from the counter to the hallway asking for
help, for some consideration. None was forthcoming. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1pHSR_HPH1eBJ4lu2snfISNBAeAboJ3mSusv-meuolyEAM4CUktN8nwgVw9yFzZlUH6ifdxmotuuKvMtpuQvSkAusdZ8g2xFGbNcmDPrTSsF3OMnPjW0uxz0Don1noca5n6oi/s1600/Windows+Phone_20150526_19_31_33_Pro__highres.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1pHSR_HPH1eBJ4lu2snfISNBAeAboJ3mSusv-meuolyEAM4CUktN8nwgVw9yFzZlUH6ifdxmotuuKvMtpuQvSkAusdZ8g2xFGbNcmDPrTSsF3OMnPjW0uxz0Don1noca5n6oi/s320/Windows+Phone_20150526_19_31_33_Pro__highres.jpg" width="320" /></a>I can’t forget the old man, a double amputee, in a spotless
white thawb laying on a small piece of cardboard on the floor next to his
wheelchair; the exhausted sweaty children, sleeping in the aisles of the main
room as people climbed over them; the old woman, who had been sobbing earlier,
spent and now quiet, laying on the floor next to me and Hanaa, resting her head
on a small bundle. The exhaustion and frustration etched on people’s faces is still
difficult to bear.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This system has been in place for years. Nothing is ever
improved; even the simplest fixes are not implemented. This is exactly how it
is designed to work. Every aspect of the system acts as a deterrent, so people
will no longer try to travel. If you were to find yourself in this hall,
desperately trying to get home, and were met with the complete indifference,
contempt, and bald-faced lies of the authorities in these rooms, you would not accept
it. But thousands of people have no choice. If you cause too much of a problem,
you risk getting thrown out, ending a bid to see your family, or return to your
home. The authorities told us, “Go away, go sit down until your name is
called,” and we sat. They told us to “Wait right there for 5 minutes,” we
waited for an hour. People had to endure it, much like the siege itself, like the
lack of medicine, like the lack of jobs, like the lack of homes, like the lack
of possibility, like the lack of a future. One indignity piled on top of
another. When you think it can’t get any worse, it invariably does. Yet the
people remain. They struggle. They persevere. Against desperate odds, they
survive. That being said, every time people are treated with such disregard
something of our humanity is lost, and all of us suffer.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Finally, Hanaa’s name is called. She pushes through the
crowd, and returns with her passport in hand. I say, “Get your bags, you can go
home.” She refuses. She insists on waiting for me. It is past 6 pm. I walk from
the desk to the door in the hallway back to the desk, trying to get someone to help
me. Someone says the Palestinians will be taken care of first. Anyone with a
foreign passport, whether Palestinian or not, would need to wait, “But don’t
worry you will go to Gaza.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At 8:30 pm there is an announcement that the passport desk is
closed. The agents continue handing out the last of the processed passports. I
squeeze up to the window to look at the passports on the counter. Maybe I could
find mine. I don’t see a single foreign passport. I walk back to the door
leading to the offices. Desperate mothers with newborns in their arms are
begging for their passports. They implore the guards, they can’t possibly stay
overnight, they have no more food for their babies. Pregnant women try to
explain they can’t lie on the bare floor. Elders grab soldiers by the arms, asking
for mercy. They are all brushed aside, and told to go away, “Tomorrow, tomorrow,
there is nothing more to be done now, the office is closed.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There is an announcement that the exit doors are also
closed. A commotion ensues as people are still trying to leave. Now Hanaa would
be forced to stay the night. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the hall I recognize an Egyptian man who I dealt with in
previous trips to Gaza. I implore him to find out what is going on. He promises
me he will, “Wait here for 15 minutes.” An hour later I found him smoking a
cigarette and laughing with a friend. I call to him. “Fifteen minutes,” he
assures me, without getting up.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGoDWvDXMy5YwJbof2v3L3WpYg-9baNcf5e95JwfV94YqR1tEiOmM35MenROVJa9qO0pPyzb4uRBqavuGd9E_-js-h-lthfzrs3Zd-jLp329UYanv-cBO28qyoJHacgI04ezWb/s1600/Windows+Phone_20150527_06_17_24_Pro__highres.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGoDWvDXMy5YwJbof2v3L3WpYg-9baNcf5e95JwfV94YqR1tEiOmM35MenROVJa9qO0pPyzb4uRBqavuGd9E_-js-h-lthfzrs3Zd-jLp329UYanv-cBO28qyoJHacgI04ezWb/s320/Windows+Phone_20150527_06_17_24_Pro__highres.jpg" width="320" /></a>Hundreds of people are lying on the floor amidst the garbage
and their luggage. The Egyptians provide nothing. There are no blankets,
nothing to lie on, the snack bar is closed, no food is forthcoming. And here I am
hoping something could be done for me, amongst all these stranded, desperate
people trying to go home. I run out of words and feel deeply ashamed. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
One dignified old gentleman, dressed in fine slacks and a white
pin striped shirt, leans on his cane, sits down on his boxes and says to me,
“This is the case of the Palestinians.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Hanaa finds a darkened corner where we can lie down. I take
a minute to look at all the people around me. I try to make sense of all that has
transpired, but can only shake my head. Even as I write this I cannot
comprehend it. Hanaa was next to me on a thin piece of cardboard. She covered
her face completely. The mosquitos were out in force. Although I am lying on
just a towel on the marble floor, I quickly fall asleep. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<iframe width="320" height="266" class="YOUTUBE-iframe-video" data-thumbnail-src="https://i.ytimg.com/vi/Uni1f7GmfHU/0.jpg" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Uni1f7GmfHU?feature=player_embedded" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>At 6 am I wake up and look around me. People are already
stirring. I walk around the hall, it is finally quiet. People whisper to each
other. The energy level is low. I step outside into the bright sun. Small
groups of people are talking and smoking. A football appears and the youth
begin kicking it around. No one smiles. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I go back inside. Even though it was not yet 7 am, a man is
behind the passport counter, and he is answering questions. I ask him about my
passport. He goes into a back room and comes back swiftly. He tells me, “You
will not be allowed to enter, you will be sent back to Cairo this morning.” I
show him the paper I had notarized at the American embassy in Amman. He says,
“This paper must come from Cairo, not Amman. This will not be accepted.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Hanaa joins me and we go back outside to get some fresh air
and consider our options. A young man we met near the passport counter comes
and sits with us. He says he knows someone working with the <span class="st"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Mukhabarat
and he will make a call</span></span>. Hanaa goes with him. They also come back
quickly. There is no way I will be allowed to pass. It is not Egyptian policy,
but American policy. U.S. Citizens are no longer permitted to enter Gaza
through Rafah Crossing because the U.S. Embassy in Cairo will not permit it,
there is nothing to be done. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirrEWxRo1quzIcC1VLkxtxl_uaH6kCvUY1_QzcK9yxzFz4yzJamIhdnJLf6eEeBm_FqXIJvLMHb2xiDPJ2vXUm-YPINGRcDFregOFOkbFfKhvHfrAKbSqoJi5mvAn91DBDcB9k/s1600/Windows+Phone_20150527_06_19_04_Pro__highres.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirrEWxRo1quzIcC1VLkxtxl_uaH6kCvUY1_QzcK9yxzFz4yzJamIhdnJLf6eEeBm_FqXIJvLMHb2xiDPJ2vXUm-YPINGRcDFregOFOkbFfKhvHfrAKbSqoJi5mvAn91DBDcB9k/s320/Windows+Phone_20150527_06_19_04_Pro__highres.jpg" width="320" /></a>Hanaa lights a cigarette. A young man approaches us. I ask him
what he was doing outside Palestine, “Were you working? Going to University?”
“No,” he replies, “My brother has kidney disease. I went outside Gaza so I
could donate my kidney to my brother, now I am trying to return home.” Luckily,
his brother had been called the day before; he made it back to the family in
Gaza before the terminal closed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I encourage Hanaa that it was time she went to her family. I
would wait for my passport and return to Cairo. She reluctantly agrees. We
gather her bags and I walk her to the doorway that opens to the Gaza side of
the crossing. She steps outside without looking back. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At 1:30 pm my passport is returned. There are still hundreds
of people in the hall waiting to be processed. I grab my bags and I am escorted
from the Travel Hall back to the gate that I forced myself through 24 hours
earlier. People dragging their luggage walk quickly past me toward the Travel
Hall, relieved to be inside the crossing. At the gate, the scenes from
yesterday repeat themselves. A man tells me that they just began allowing
people to pass. The numbers of people are much lower, maybe only one hundred or
so. The soldiers must have turned cars back in the morning.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I shove my way past the soldiers and the people jockeying to
enter. I feel free but utterly, completely defeated. I walk past the APV to the
few remaining cars, hoping to find a ride across the Sinai and back to Cairo. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
* The name has been changed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
Johnnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03963904205772611218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31844504.post-54034195657237873942015-06-08T07:02:00.003-04:002015-06-08T07:27:06.914-04:00Crossing Rafah part 2<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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</div>
On May 24<sup>th</sup> we received word that the Rafah
Crossing would be opened on Tuesday May 26<sup>th</sup> for 2 days. We left for
Cairo the next day, arriving at 7:00 pm. On the plane we met a man named Musa. When
he was fifteen and living in Gaza, he was shot by Israeli forces. He was evacuated
from Gaza for surgery. He was all alone. He ended up in Australia where he was
granted status as an asylum seeker. Now, fourteen years later, he was returning
home to get married. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had been waiting
in Jordan for the crossing to open since March. In the time he was gone he had
lost 2 sisters and more extended family members than he cared to recount to
Israeli bombs.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Outside Cairo airport we met Musa again. He was waiting for
his uncle, and offered us a ride to the services (shared taxis) that would take
us to Rafah. At 1:30 am we were on our way to the Sinai. We hoped to cross in
the early morning hours. We wanted to get to Rafah by the time the border
opened. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Crossing the Sinai is dangerous, especially at night. The
people living there have long been neglected by the central government and
during the revolution local Bedouin tribesman found an opportunity to exploit
government weakness. After the coup, the Sisi government began cracking down on
people in the Sinai. Several jihadist groups have joined the fray. Villages we
drove through had been emptied. Houses were bombed. Mosques closed down,
schools taken over for military outposts. Tanks and APVs were outside every outpost
and lined the checkpoints on the road. We avoided the city of Al-Arish entirely.
We regularly diverted to small roads through local villages where there were
fewer checkpoints and less hazards. The roads were crowded with cars trying to
get to the border. The services all had enormous piles of luggage secured to
the roofs.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwPxny2WFn6-7jzdMPTwOyeuMM4UUPkNYhoVdoPJroInw11ONLRfdA4mYs5cEKlpbsA0M7G_lMatrsNxELmfWT7OIbIsj26A9C5TlUNh1YGUvMqvmz58JY3DvOR6djQkqrq1ys/s1600/Windows+Phone_20150526_10_01_49_Pro__highres-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwPxny2WFn6-7jzdMPTwOyeuMM4UUPkNYhoVdoPJroInw11ONLRfdA4mYs5cEKlpbsA0M7G_lMatrsNxELmfWT7OIbIsj26A9C5TlUNh1YGUvMqvmz58JY3DvOR6djQkqrq1ys/s320/Windows+Phone_20150526_10_01_49_Pro__highres-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
We arrived at the crossing at 9:15 am. Nearly two thousand
people were already waiting. The local Egyptian youth were out hustling people
for the use of their rickety pushcarts. Business was good; there were not nearly
enough carts. Others had donkey carts piled full of belongings. The drop off
point for cars had been moved back from the crossing at least another 200 yards
from its location in 2012. People would now need to drag their belongings 300
yards to the main gate. There were no lines, no organization. Soldiers were
trying to keep the crowds from pushing past them. The energy was tense. It was
going to be a harrowing headlong rush to the gate. Based on the numbers of
people, I thought many would not cross today. We skirted past the donkeys and
the pushcarts trying to get to the front of the chaotic crowd.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgCJ7g_cWPTxhqzk1zMmVX3fLPSwavAeh6nXIEpWoOwa_eSNdH-vOzRvcXZEbY9OX6f8R6HppkdrkjiEH-70qT4W-kU_LqdxqcebtDpizUqqAcYgxWfQqQoMYh5y3CnEs5VzDj/s1600/Windows+Phone_20150526_10_14_48_Pro__highres-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgCJ7g_cWPTxhqzk1zMmVX3fLPSwavAeh6nXIEpWoOwa_eSNdH-vOzRvcXZEbY9OX6f8R6HppkdrkjiEH-70qT4W-kU_LqdxqcebtDpizUqqAcYgxWfQqQoMYh5y3CnEs5VzDj/s320/Windows+Phone_20150526_10_14_48_Pro__highres-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
We were told that the border would open at 10 am. We managed
to find a spot near the front that was somewhat quiet. Several very elderly
people, some in wheelchairs, others with canes, were sitting on the curb
waiting. Somewhere behind us a confrontation broke out and soldiers rushed into
the crowd. More and more people walked around the carts and toward the front,
leapfrogging the starting point established by the Egyptian military. The
soldiers started screaming at people to go back, but the crowd was packed tight,
people couldn’t go back. In response, several soldiers lifted their weapons, and
fired into the air. The people stopped moving forward. This scenario repeated itself
several times with the soldier in charge yelling that the crossing would not
open if people didn’t move back. But moments later, without warning, everyone
was suddenly running forward. We became separated from Musa as he rushed forward
to separate himself from the crowd. There was more firing, this time behind us.
The youth with the overloaded carts pushed as hard as they could, hitting
people who couldn’t move out of their way fast enough. Baggage went tumbling
into the roadway and got left behind. The elders in the front were quickly
overtaken.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We moved with the flow, but
were overtaken as well. As we got closer, I saw armed soldiers on the parapet
above the gate. Fifty yards from the gate an APV with soldiers armed with a
rocket launcher and Kalashnikovs was in the roadway. Soldiers allowed the first
hundred people to rush past the APV to the gate. The soldiers at the APV
stopped us. The carts and donkeys and people pulling suitcases and carting
bundles all crammed forward. We were caught in the crush. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was 10:30 am and the sun was blazing. There was no shade.
We would remain in the crowd packed behind the APV for at least an hour. I
heard F-16s in the sky before I saw them, and later heard that Israel bombed targets
throughout Gaza after a rocket had been fired toward Israel.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There were dozens of soldiers, but they were completely
unorganized. People pushed past them, the soldiers chased them down, screaming,
and shoved them back toward the crowd. While they were distracted, others went
around them. Tempers were flaring. Hundreds of people were jockeying to
maneuver through a narrow six-foot space in between the APV and a low wall,
others were moving around the APV where they managed to slip past the soldiers.
Hanaa and I were pinned in between the pushcarts and several donkey carts and
couldn’t move. The soldiers let two small groups of people through. We were now
near the soldiers in front of the APV. They continued to scream at people to
back up. No one listened, or moved back only to move forward as soon as the
soldiers turned away. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A sense of desperation was palatable. Mothers with small
children and the elderly begged the soldiers to let them pass. Men in
wheelchairs and on crutches pointed toward the gate and argued their case.
Little mercies were shown as some soldiers relented and let people move
forward. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Finally, we too, were allowed to move forward. The crowd around
the gate numbered at least 200 people. We were almost there. Before we reached
this group a single young soldier with a Kalashnikov pointed his weapon at us
and began screaming. We skidded to a halt as those behind us leaned into us and
pushed us forward. He pointed to the ground and demanded no one move forward, not
even an inch.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He tried to separate woman
and men. He pushed people back, screaming. People were focused on the gate; no
one knew what he was screaming about until he was in their face. He kept his
finger on the trigger of his weapon and kept raising it toward the crowd. I was
worried he would shoot somebody. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
People with infants and very old women tried to move to the
side of the road to sit in the shade under the only tree left standing in the
newly created buffer zone. There once was a small snack shop and a mosque here
as well, but they were leveled along with all the olive groves. The soldier was
raising his gun to women with infants. No one could talk to him. None of the
other soldiers tried to calm him. Again we were forced to wait. In the blazing
heat it seemed like forever, though it was less than an hour. We had no water. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone’s clothing was soaked through with
sweat. Babies, young children, and some adults were crying. Later I would learn
that an elderly woman, <span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Yousra Al-Khatib, would die here in the
heat.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The crossing has a 2-lane roadway with large gates to
control cars as well as 4 gates for people. The people on the other side of the
gate were collecting individual passports so the <span class="st"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Mukhabarat
(</span></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The <span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Egyptian</span> State Security Service<span class="st">)</span></span>
could examine them. Then they needed to find the people in the crowd and open
the gate to let them pass. With the hundreds of people screaming at them to
take their passports and let them cross, it was a process that was incredibly
inefficient. It was also the process that I witnessed when I first came to Gaza
in 2011. Nothing had been improved or repaired in the years in between.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Finally, we were allowed to move forward. It was 12:30. We
were at the gate, but in the middle of the crowd. No one seemed to be moving
past the gate, but then the soldiers began opening the gate in the roadway in
order to retrieve the bags of people who had already been allowed inside. Every
time the big gate opened, people desperately pushed and squeezed inside. At the
same time, people were throwing 70 lb. pieces of luggage forward toward the
gate, hitting the people trying to get in. Slowly Hanaa and I moved forward
into the chaos, edging closer to the gate. It was inches at a time. Baggage was
accumulating around our feet, making it harder to move. Still people pushed.
Everyone was reaching forward, waving their passports and papers, shouting for
the soldiers, “Bashar, bashar, please help, please take this!” I refused to
yield as people tried to push by me, doing all in their power to get to the
gate. We were now 2 people back from the gate itself. Finally Hanaa broke down.
She yelled out, cursing. I don’t know what she said. But for a minute, the
soldier paid attention. He asked which bags were hers. Two men by our sides,
who had earlier pushed us out of their way, gathered our 3 bags. They hoisted
them to the guards, who then pushed them through the gate. Hanaa followed,
grabbing my arm and shouting, “We are together.” And in a moment we were
through. We sat on the ground for a minute to rest. It was 1:30 pm. I was shocked
and dumbfounded. Hanaa asked, “What do we do now?” A guard pointed to the Travel
Hall 50 yards away. We gathered our belongings and our remaining strength, and we
trudged toward the terminal. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
Johnnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03963904205772611218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31844504.post-34960033399019109762015-06-08T07:01:00.002-04:002015-06-08T07:02:00.759-04:00Crossing Rafah part 1<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The Rafah Crossing from Egypt to Gaza was
opened on May 26th for 2 days after being closed for the past 75 days. The
opening allowed Palestinian residents of Gaza who </span>were stranded<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
in Egypt or third countries to return home to Gaza. The crossing remained
closed for those trying to leave Gaza. The waiting list for people trying to
leave has reached 15,000 people. The waiting list includes thousands of medical
patients, students, and people traveling to their work or their families abroad.
Many of these people have been trapped in Gaza since the Israeli attack last July.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The last time the crossing was opened
was in March when just 2,443 people in total were permitted to travel in both
directions. While Morsi was in power in Egypt, nearly 41,000 people were
traveling through the crossing each month.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My friend Hanaa* had spent 2 years in the U.S. earning a
masters degree. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When she left Gaza in the fall of 2013 it took her 6 months
to get authorization from Hamas to leave, and an additional month to get a U.S.
visa. She came within days of losing a full scholarship. Many other students
remained trapped in Gaza and their scholarships were rescinded.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the first year of her studies, Hanaa’s father died. He
needed routine heart surgery but he was not permitted to leave Gaza. He died on
the operating table at Shifa Hospital. He was 50 years old. Hanaa could not
return to Gaza to be with her family because there was no guarantee that she
could enter Gaza, and if she could, there was an even greater risk she wouldn’t
be allowed to leave Gaza to return to her studies. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Last July Israel attacked Gaza for 51 days. Hanaa was on the
phone with her mom as her family fled her home in the middle of the night. She
could hear the bombs and mortars rain down on her neighborhood. Terrorized, her
family ran for their lives through the darkened streets. The phone connection
was lost. The family survived and days later returned home even as most of <span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">the neighborhood was
demolished. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Hanaa completed her studies this spring, and planned her
return home. I would accompany her. When we left the states, we had no idea if
the border would open. Like everyone, we needed to wait, but we needed to be
nearby in order to move quickly if the border opened. <span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Egypt has a policy of
not allowing Palestinians from Gaza to enter the country unless their purpose
is to travel directly to Gaza. Since the border was closed, we were afraid Hanaa
would be denied entry at Cairo airport. </span>The Egyptian policy changes like
the tide, we heard of people getting trapped in the airport for months, others
were deported to Turkey or back to their point of origin. We couldn’t afford to
be turned back. We went to Jordan. Jordan also has strict rules about allowing
entry to Palestinians from Gaza. The border agent told Hanaa she would not have
been allowed into the country if she didn’t have a multiple entry visa from the
U.S. in her passport. He assumed she would return to the U.S. <span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt;">
We waited for 3 weeks in Irbid,
Jordan. We traveled to the north in order to interview Syrian refugees while we
waited for news of the border crossing. On a daily basis, we heard many rumors that
ranged from, “The border will open in 2 days,” to “The border is closed-
permanently.” We never knew what to do. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt;">
We learned that the only time flights
to Cairo would be sold to Palestinians was when the border was going to open. Another
Palestinian stuck in Jordan told us about a branch of Palestinian Airlines that
was still open in Amman. Since the bombing of Gaza’s airport in 2001 they
didn’t operate as an airline but as a travel agency. We called them twice everyday
and asked them if they had any news regarding Rafah. <span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">On Sunday May 24th, they
said, “Yes, the border will open.” They received notice from the Egyptians that
Rafah Crossing was opening, but only for those returning to Gaza. We
immediately dropped everything, packed our bags, and headed to Amman. We purchased
2 one-way tickets to Cairo because once Hanaa left Jordan she would not be able
to return. She would not be allowed to remain in Egypt, so like all
Palestinians heading to Rafah, she had no choice but to make it across the
border. <br />
<br />
I still had a problem. Not being Palestinian meant I was required to receive
permission from Egypt in order to cross the border at Rafah. After a month of
trying to procure permission, I still did not have the necessary document. The
Egyptian military, which has been carrying out attacks throughout the Sinai
since the coup, now maintains tight control over the region. I was warned that I
would be stopped at the first military checkpoint into the Sinai and sent back
to Cairo. <br />
<br />
In the attempt to arrange permission, I faced a Catch-22 that proved
insurmountable.<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"> </b>I sent all my
documents to the Egyptian consulate in Los Angeles. (This office had been
extremely helpful and friendly when I asked for a visa and permission for other
trips to Gaza.) After 10 days they called me and told me there was a new
policy. I would need to procure security clearance from the U.S. Consulate in
Cairo. I had done this on previous trips, it amounted to paying a $50 fee for a
notarized piece of paper saying that the U.S. was not responsible for my safety
in Gaza and I was going on my own accord. It also noted that I understood that once
I entered Gaza the U.S. Consulate would not help me if any issues arose. In the
past, the Egyptian consulate provided the visa. This time they told me it would
not be possible and returned my paperwork.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Because my
understanding was that my friend would not be able to travel freely around
Cairo, I called the State Dept. in Washington DC, asking for this travel document
in advance. They claimed they could not provide it, that I needed to contact
the U.S. Consulate in Cairo. I emailed the consulate my request. The consulate
responded:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Unfortunately, issuing such type of
letters is not among our services. If you need a permission or a visa,
you should contact the Egyptian Consulate.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I sent a return email
and asked them to consider the body of my original email, which came from the
Egyptian Consulate and in which I was told to contact The U.S. Consulate in
Cairo. The Consulate responded:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Unfortunately, we stopped issuing such
letters long time ago. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">For weeks I reached out
to the main Egyptian Consulate in Washington DC. They never once responded to
me. In fact, I couldn't even get a human being on the telephone. Feeling desperate,
I tried the Egyptian Consulate in NYC and was told, "No problem, we are
glad to help, send us your documents and the fee for the visa and we will take
care of it.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For a moment my hope was
renewed, but it wouldn’t last long. After several days they called me back to
say they couldn't help me, and reiterated that a new policy was in place, and that
I must contact the U.S. Consulate in Cairo.<br />
<br />
Finally, the day before we flew to Jordan, I copied the U.S. Consulate in Cairo
and the Egyptian Consulate in the same email and asked why they were both
telling me to speak to the other agency. The Egyptian Consulate never responded,
but the U.S. Consulate in Cairo emailed:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Despite what may have been done
previously, current policy of the U.S. Embassy in Cairo is not to issue travel
letters and this has been the official policy for over four years. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">This isn’t to say the Egyptians do not still
require it, but that we do not issue them.</i></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Of course this was not correct as I received
this letter on my last trip to Gaza in November 2012, but no need to quibble. In
order to cross the border I needed a letter and they refused to issue it. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This runaround is nothing compared to the process that
Palestinians from Gaza must endure. Conflicting information, changing rules and
regulations, ambiguity, bureaucracy layered upon more bureaucracy, and government
delays and inertia are all designed to deter people from even attempting to
travel into or out of the confines of Gaza. This deterrence would be amplified exponentially
in the coming days at the Rafah Crossing.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The U.S. Consulate in Cairo concluded
with this:</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">With this information, I consider this
matter closed from our end. Your entry to Gaza is something that we do not
advise and do not support with a travel letter or other assistance. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">So I didn't have permission from
Egyptian security because my own government wouldn’t provide it. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Egypt is the second largest recipient
of U.S. aid in the region (behind Israel), mostly in the form of 1.3 billion
dollars per year in military assistance. It behooves Egypt to do as they are
told when it comes to Gaza.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The matter was not closed from my end, yet. Before leaving
Jordan I went to the U.S. Consulate in Amman. When I stated I needed permission
to enter Gaza at the Rafah Crossing, they claimed they didn’t know what I was
talking about, but explained that for a $50 fee I could write my own affidavit,
which they notarized and signed off on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It wasn’t what was required, but it was something. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We were heading to Rafah.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
* The name has been changed.</div>
</div>
Johnnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03963904205772611218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31844504.post-54333485175690693822015-05-20T09:28:00.002-04:002015-05-20T09:35:09.783-04:00There is Nothing Left of Johr al-Dik.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">I have hesitated reading the anonymous
soldier testimonies released by Breaking the Silence regarding the Israeli attack
on Gaza last summer. I didn’t want to read the admissions that seemed all too
obvious, all too predictable. As in other testimonies released by Breaking the
Silence I expected stories of civilians being targeted, random wanton
destruction, and lax protocols that made it all acceptable. Just following the
news of last summers attack and the narratives provided by Gaza residents would
draw you to the same conclusions. I didn’t need soldiers’ confessions to collaborate
these facts.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">I am currently in Jordan with a friend
trying to return home to Sheja’iya, in Gaza. We have been here for 3 weeks
waiting for word on the Rafah border crossing. Although we hear rumors about
possible openings, to date the crossing is sealed. We have spent our days sitting
with both Syrian and Palestinian refugees. I have spent too much time in coffee
shops, drinking too much coffee and reading too much news.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">Yesterday over coffee my friend Intimaa and
I were debating which was the most beautiful spot in Gaza. The list always gets
reduced to two areas, the farmland around Faraheen or Johr Al-Dik. Sitting
smoking shisha I recalled the silence in the rolling fields of Johr Al-Dik, interrupted
by the occasional barking dog or the chirping birds. I recalled the crops of
eggplant, tomatoes, and cucumbers that struggled to thrive with a water source
contaminated by salt. I recalled the wind rustling through the fruit trees,</span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 16.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Times;"> </span><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">the slanting sun illuminating the olive trees at dawn.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">And I remembered Nasser, his beautiful children,
and the tragic story of his life. How in the spring of 2010 his</span> wife,
Naama<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;"> was cut down in the front doorway by a flechette
shell fired from an Israeli tank. It was late afternoon, the sun was shining, and
the kids were playing nearby. I recalled how the ambulances were blocked from
entering the dirt road to the home. How Naama bled to death there, in front of
her children. We stood in front of the house as Nasser pointed out the
watchtowers and the placement of the tank that fired the deadly shell. The
Israelis claimed there were militants in the area, but offered no explanation
as to why Naama was targeted and killed. </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlOiHTo1ECxXt68RHrVn-5G8sWeYzWH67zfaqMNF3hLuVnFN3mlT4GqAGw3mRySfjem3Xd2C1NW1g71TTSXlZenL82VK1nqR2X71fQvGpaGw0rG6D8XfPOW5uo5EIwktLSddXH/s1600/DSC00119-Edit-Edit.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlOiHTo1ECxXt68RHrVn-5G8sWeYzWH67zfaqMNF3hLuVnFN3mlT4GqAGw3mRySfjem3Xd2C1NW1g71TTSXlZenL82VK1nqR2X71fQvGpaGw0rG6D8XfPOW5uo5EIwktLSddXH/s400/DSC00119-Edit-Edit.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">Nasser recalled how his house was shelled less
than one year later, destroying the 2<sup>nd</sup> floor, injuring 2 of his
sleeping kids, forcing him and the children to retreat to the village. Once
again, Israel claimed there were militants in the area. The home they were
staying in was near the graveyard. One night Nasser found his children crying
at their mother’s grave. He and his family returned to the land, living in
tents under his trees until the funds were secured to rebuild his home. They
hung a white flag from a pole near their home to alert the Israelis that they
were there and they posed no threat. Nasser realized he or his children could
be killed at any time.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCxscJvUf73byNhVUBmMm3QHMF0tmczIBBAURklZLGSj2QBCWKJ5cCfNY0raI8DeEKsjM8d_dHCUuwUCWcnzxtm29pD8l9T0U5VpN7EepBE8XL1Htxm9PpDAUiwc9Bau-RDeyF/s1600/DSC00127-Edit-Edit.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCxscJvUf73byNhVUBmMm3QHMF0tmczIBBAURklZLGSj2QBCWKJ5cCfNY0raI8DeEKsjM8d_dHCUuwUCWcnzxtm29pD8l9T0U5VpN7EepBE8XL1Htxm9PpDAUiwc9Bau-RDeyF/s400/DSC00127-Edit-Edit.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">Nasser and his kids are part of what I love
about Johr Al-Dik, families surviving on their land and refusing to give up
even in the face of unbearable Israeli aggression. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">Last evening, I relented and downloaded the
soldier’s testimonies, “This Is How We Fought In Gaza”. Scanning the Table of
Contents, Testimony 18, page 56, caught my attention. It is titled, “Check it
out, there</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">’</span><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">s nothing at all left of Juhar al-Dik.”<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=31844504#_edn1" name="_ednref1" style="mso-endnote-id: edn1;" title=""><span class="MsoEndnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoEndnoteReference"><span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">[1]</span></span></span></span></a></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">Check it out,
there</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman";">’</span><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">s nothing at all left of Juhar al-Dik</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">Unit: Armored
Corps •Rank: First Sergeant • Location: Deir al-Balah</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">Before we
entered we saw orchards on a slope, a low fence beyond them and then Juhar
al-Dik up on this little hill. You’ve got the barrier [between Israel and the
Gaza Strip] and then Juhar al-Dik is on some high ground that overlooks it, and
it’s very green. Of all the houses that were there, I think I saw maybe four or
five still intact, or relatively intact. Most of it was D9s (armored
bulldozers). They just took down all the orchards. Not a single tree left. Lots
of houses. The D9s destroyed lots of houses.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; margin-left: .5in; margin-right: .5in; margin-top: 0in;">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">Quotes from
men in the company: “Listen man, it’s crazy what went on in there,” “Listen
man, we really messed them up,” “Fuck, check it out, there’s nothing at all
left of Juhar al-Dik, it’s nothing but desert now, that’s crazy.” The D9’s
worked on it for three weeks. When they didn’t have a specific job like leading
our way or opening up a specific route for us or some other mission, they just
went and flattened things. I don’t know what their specific order was, but they
were on a deliberate mission to leave the area razed, flattened. </span></div>
</blockquote>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">I contacted a friend at PCHR for an update
on Nasser and his family. He texted me this terse message, “Hi dear, Nasser and
his family were forced to evacuate to an UNRWA shelter in Buriej camp. His
house was destroyed completely. I'm in touch with him. They survived a very
critical condition during their evacuation.” Once again, Nasser has been forced
from his land. His home was leveled, his fields destroyed, the trees razed.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">Consider this. In the context of rocket
fire from Gaza and consider this in the context of the wider “War on Terror”. Nasser
and his children are one family in Gaza. What exactly do you wish them to do?
They are given limited options. They cannot leave Gaza. They have been living
in a UN school since August. Many of the schools have been housing homeless families
since the attack ended, the children cannot learn. UNICEF estimates nearly half
of Gaza’s 900,000 children need </span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“psycho-social first
aid”. (Children comprise 50% of Gaza’s population, why aren’t Israel’s attacks
framed as a war against children?) </span><span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">Unemployment
is 45% or more. Farmlands, and therefore food sources, have been destroyed.
Clean water and electricity are scarce. Building materials are banned. Israel’s
crimes against civilians continue unchallenged, and they are already planning the
next attack. My friend Intimaa managed to speak directly with Nasser. He didn’t
have very much to say. Once again he is rebuilding. He said he simply doesn’t
know what to do. Every time he builds a house, Israel destroys it. He is
grateful that at least his children are all well, and for the time being, safe.
In closing he said, “You know the situation. There is nothing left.”</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">What’s next for Nasser and his young
family? What choices are expected of them? How should they protect themselves? On
the international stage Israel continually talks of “peace” and “fighting
terror”. Nasser and his children know better. </span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">When I sat for tea with Nasser, back in
2011 (2 “wars” ago), his children still managed to laugh as they played in the
garden. Nasser was a soft-spoken, gentle man, prone to chain-smoking
cigarettes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He worried about his kids. He
was calm, deliberate, and determined. At the time, I didn’t see any signs of
anger. He didn’t speak of retribution. In an earlier draft of this piece, I
ended with a question, “But with all that has transpired, if hatred were to rear
it’s ugly head dare you blame him?” But this is the mind of those who attack
him, poisoned by hate. Perhaps it is better to point to the resilience of the
human heart that continues to love and persevere in even the most desperate
circumstances. There is something left in Johr al-Dik, something the Israelis
fail to see, and something bombs will never eliminate. The spirit of the people
remains. Nasser will persevere. He will rebuild his home, replant his fields,
and tend to his children. He will hope for the day that Israel will be held
accountable for it’s crimes, but he will not wait. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div style="mso-element: endnote-list;">
<br clear="all" />
<hr align="left" size="1" width="33%" />
<div id="edn1" style="mso-element: endnote;">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=31844504#_ednref1" name="_edn1" style="mso-endnote-id: edn1;" title=""><span class="MsoEndnoteReference"><span style="mso-special-character: footnote;"><span class="MsoEndnoteReference"><span style="font-family: Cambria; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">[1]</span></span></span></span></a> <span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">From “This Is How We Fought In Gaza” Soldiers’ testimonies and
photographs from Operation “Protective Edge” (2014). </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-bidi-font-family: Times; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">Published by Breaking the Silence</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoEndnoteText">
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
Johnnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03963904205772611218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31844504.post-6771701187234306212015-05-14T04:03:00.000-04:002015-05-15T08:06:14.188-04:00Gaza to Gaza Camp<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
The Never Ending Nakba</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><span style="font-family: Cambria; font-style: normal; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Immediately preceding
the establishment of the State of Israel in 1948, </span></i>the country that
now demands others acknowledge it’s “right to exist” <span class="st"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">depopulated
and destroyed</span></span><i><span style="font-family: Cambria; font-style: normal; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-style: italic; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> over 400</span></i><span class="st"><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> Palestinian towns and villages, forcing the inhabitants to
flee for their lives. </span></span>The new state planted trees and established
national parks over the ruins of dozens of villages where Israelis now spend
quiet afternoons and enjoy picnics in the shade. The cries of the dead are
drowned out by the laughter of children playing on the remains of ancient
homes. The Arabic names of the destroyed villages have been erased. The Israeli
state still clings to the myth of “A land without a people, for a people
without a land,” and deny the Nakba took place, just as many Americans still
deny an indigenous genocide in “our” country. Zochrot, an Israeli NGO, has
identified and mapped every destroyed Palestinian village and town in order to reeducate
the Israeli public. Their message is largely ignored.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The evidence that could not be erased- the millions of
displaced people living across Israel, in what remains of Palestine, in camps
in neighboring Arab countries and the wider Palestinian diaspora are marginalized
in an attempt to silence them. Silenced, they are more easily forgotten.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Take Gaza for example. As Hamas and Fatah announced critical
gains toward establishing a unity government in the summer of 2014, Israel
escalated hostilities in Gaza. In response to Israeli violence, including drone
strikes and targeted assassinations, rockets are fired from Gaza into Israel. Both
sides escalate the violence. Suddenly, Gaza exists again- as a threat to the
state. Hamas is condemned in the media. Politicians declare, “Israel has a
right to defend itself!” Israel, with the backing of the United States, begins an
assault that includes a sustained aerial bombardment as well as a ground
invasion using tanks, howitzers, and thousands of troops against a largely
unarmed, civilian population. From Gaza rockets continue to fly in unprecedented
numbers. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
7 civilians are killed in Israel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>1660 Palestinian civilians are killed. In
Gaza, hospitals, mosques, schools, and office towers are destroyed. Entire
neighborhoods are pulverized to rubble. Israel faces harsh criticism as
pictures of carnage flood social media. After 50 days a ceasefire is brokered
by Egypt. Israel makes concessions. The buffer zone will be reduced. Fisherman
will be able to fish further into the sea (but still well within the limits
granted to them during the Oslo process). The siege will be loosened, allowing
people to travel. Materials, including concrete, will be permitted into Gaza to
begin rebuilding. Nations around the world promise billions of dollars to help
with the rebuilding effort. “Calm” is restored.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The ceasefire is broken by Israel in a matter of days.
Farmers are shot in the buffer zone. Silence. Fishermen are attacked at sea.
Silence. The Rafah border crossing with Egypt is sealed. The siege is worse
than before the Israeli attack. Silence. Ten months later, building materials have
still not entered Gaza. The billions of dollars promised for rebuilding doesn’t
materialize, nothing is rebuilt. Silence. Thousands live in the rubble of their
destroyed homes. Children freeze to death during the winter. Thousands more
remain in the UN schools they fled to during the July attack. Silence. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Israeli soldiers publish testimonies that
point to war crimes committed in the offensive. In America, the mainstream
media largely ignore the testimonies. Silence. Gaza is forgotten.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The U.S. Congress praises Netanyahu. Obama congratulates him
on forming a new cabinet, and no one comments on the newly appointed racists in
his coalition government- one of which said killing mothers of martyrs is
justified to prevent “more little snakes being raised there,” another calling
Palestinians “sub-human”. Aid, in the billions of U.S. dollars continues to
flow unabated to Israel. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
While rockets from Gaza garners some attention, other
Palestinian refugees suffer in complete isolation. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Just a 5-kilometer drive from Jerash, the beautifully
preserved remnants of a once wealthy Roman city, is Jerash Camp. Known locally as
Gaza Camp, it was established in 1968 as a temporary camp to house 11,500
refugees fleeing Gaza during the 6-day war. Many of the refugees were refugees
for a 2<sup>nd</sup> time, having originally fled Beersheba during the Nakba in
1948. The refugees from Gaza were not granted Jordanian papers. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The situation facing those in Gaza Camp is the most
difficult of the 2 million Palestinian refugees in Jordan today. Now home to an
estimated 30,000 people, the camp sits on less than .75 sq. kilometers of land.
The sewage system is an above ground channel system that cannot contain the
volume of waste, which flows down the alleyways and streets, the only space
where children can play. The UN itself estimates that 75% of the houses are
uninhabitable- some still have the original cancer causing asbestos and
corrugated tin sheeting provided for roofing in 1968. The refugees are denied
support by the Jordanian government. Electricity and water are supplied to the
camp at cost. Internet connections are not available. There are no pharmacies
in the camp, and only one health clinic administered by UNRWA.<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">
The residents of Gaza Camp cannot access public health care. They cannot open
bank accounts or purchase land.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Education is highly valued. University students from the
camp finish in the top percentiles of their class, but higher education is costly,
as students can’t access public education. Children sometimes go hungry so
parents can keep them in school. Others go hungry because the average family
lives on $2.00 a day. Those who finish their college education cannot pursue
the occupations they trained for. Doctors, engineers, and lawyers are denied licenses
and employment by the state.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
While Benjamin Netanyahu calls out to Jews around the world
to “come home” to Israel, the original inhabitants of the land are denied that
right. In fact, their rights are not even part of the conversation. In order to
claim it is the “only democracy in the Middle East,” while subverting the
rights of its Palestinian citizens, Israel must maintain it’s Jewish majority. The
Arab nations that house the Palestinian refugees are not much better. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They claim they deny citizenship so people’s
refugee status remains intact. But that doesn’t explain the denial of basic
human rights that would allow people to live with basic necessities, some comfort,
and the hope of a better future. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Nakba did not end in 1948. It is an ongoing process of marginalization
and erasure. Although Israelis may deny their history, the people of Gaza Camp cling
to their memories of Palestine like a lifeline. The children have absorbed the
stories of their elders to their very core. If you ask them where they are from,
they’ll tell you, “I am from Beersheba, I am Palestinian.” </div>
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</div>
Johnnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03963904205772611218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31844504.post-2275884508484799152015-05-06T03:38:00.002-04:002015-05-06T03:46:22.706-04:00Sunset over Occupied Territory<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMDfYI7VMgu8v4_x_bb0_V4Fgm4bhGOI-tcUHNlzpCdvBmYJaiiLxLhHv3s175VWFbYD5PwZ2FD6anUoQMyJz6LyIlWc4DCPRmW_59xxBC5aq_nphqHiWdBVDFYmVDV9Gd7pzI/s1600/WP_20150505_19_03_39_Pro__highres.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMDfYI7VMgu8v4_x_bb0_V4Fgm4bhGOI-tcUHNlzpCdvBmYJaiiLxLhHv3s175VWFbYD5PwZ2FD6anUoQMyJz6LyIlWc4DCPRmW_59xxBC5aq_nphqHiWdBVDFYmVDV9Gd7pzI/s1600/WP_20150505_19_03_39_Pro__highres.jpg" height="360" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
The Golan Heights, the Sea of Galilee, and Palestine viewed from Umm Qais, Jordan 05/05/2015. All afternoon we walked through the ruins of Gadara, considering the silence, the ancient architecture and the follies of men. For centuries Gadara was contested. Men, women, and children died in various wars dating to the centuries before Christ. Today, the Greek-Roman columns crumble, weeds fill the Ottoman homes that came much later. Cows move slowly among the ruins, feeding on the grass and wildflowers that push up through the stone. The ancient city of Gadara, now called Umm Qais is quiet now. But nearby, men still kill each other over cities, towns, waterways and desert. They occupy and oppress, and they kill for beliefs, ideologies, and greed. The horror taking place in Syria is just a few kilometers to the east. The occupied territories of Palestine just to the west, over the next hillside.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
In the silence of Umm Qais, the wind stirs the branches of the olive trees. Flowers bloom on the pomegranate trees. Children laugh. I stand with three Palestinian women, looking for their homeland. And the ghosts of all the men who fought and died on this land watch silently as the sun slowly sinks in the west.</div>
</div>
Johnnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03963904205772611218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31844504.post-68935392322983828172015-03-30T07:03:00.001-04:002015-03-30T07:03:20.062-04:00Appeal for Support, Gaza 2015<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQJnrkd4wNoiXXM43j42yY6TQ2KwXwPhXGPfU9tkEzPNWdWXJEl3wnlvMK2BginA0jZhpZ8OFqZZkO1R1Dj5Ey-P6p0NBKvnTJKozSDUvs9x9KYt859rlIz7JUUScVYKeG3e-K/s1600/DSC01648.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQJnrkd4wNoiXXM43j42yY6TQ2KwXwPhXGPfU9tkEzPNWdWXJEl3wnlvMK2BginA0jZhpZ8OFqZZkO1R1Dj5Ey-P6p0NBKvnTJKozSDUvs9x9KYt859rlIz7JUUScVYKeG3e-K/s1600/DSC01648.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixlCq3oxX2WO__90l3Nwe0HwgcBda9M_i98g5FXbF2dVfmcES0mrLD7iEWmO988j9LLdLLXn0ICK1l23bym9OGlFJ1DXBh2qe56RcyRY4WJQHYey50l0ysIP8tp2DZ_9jX4wEU/s1600/DSC04301-Edit-2-Edit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixlCq3oxX2WO__90l3Nwe0HwgcBda9M_i98g5FXbF2dVfmcES0mrLD7iEWmO988j9LLdLLXn0ICK1l23bym9OGlFJ1DXBh2qe56RcyRY4WJQHYey50l0ysIP8tp2DZ_9jX4wEU/s1600/DSC04301-Edit-2-Edit.jpg" height="179" width="320" /></a> Friends, relations, i am accompanying a
friend on their return home to Gaza leaving on or around May 1st. As of
today, Rafah crossing has only been opened for 5 days this year, so we
are expecting possible long delays in Jordan. i am seeking donations to
def<span class="text_exposed_show">ray costs, to bring necessary
medicines, and to establish a chicken farm in Nusairat camp. My
intention is to use my time in Jordan to interview Syrian refugees. In
Gaza we will examine the situation since the attack last August. In
particular, i want to document the attack and aftermath thru the eyes of
Gaza's children. Any donation $10 or over will receive a 5x7 photo of
Gaza port. (Of course, if you can't send $10, i could still send you a
photo!) </span><br />
<br />
<span class="text_exposed_show">My photo website <a href="http://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.oneBrightpearl.com%2F&h=LAQGy7IJZ&enc=AZMNvxM8-vvg7__yjTBNRAtQspc569331qlmN0L6L9eUBHpxtET13GoSjZcJh0Up1kW90hfyQMCCqtf8GT2XAuozXmeqsc95noKnS5JbFzjB4EZpl-JhOv9NDsYx1M8cYt7n0gaL_WBLiz12E_76vRky2iXJXTBt2BnXJ5SiG6vZyA&s=1" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">www.oneBrightpearl.com.</a> Thank You!</span><br />
<br />
<br />
Please share with your networks.</div>
Johnnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03963904205772611218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31844504.post-84927852228429759432014-12-29T15:11:00.004-05:002014-12-29T15:13:45.709-05:00Genocide<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Genocide. America. <br />
Say those two words together, and often. <br />
Never forget. <br />
Massacre, America. <br />
Say those two words together, and often. <span class="text_exposed_show"><br /> Never forget.<br /> Torture. America. <br /> Say those two words together, and often. <br /> Remember.<br /> When others claim American greatness<br /> say these six words, <br /> "Genocide. America. Massacre, America. Torture. America." <br /> The facts are simple.<br /> It is not a question, <br /> nor up for debate.<br /> When others claim we are exceptional,<br /> recognize the hubris. <br /> Recognize the lie.<br /> Remember the dead men, women, <br /> and children, their corpses <br /> frozen on the snowy plain.<br /> Wounded Knee. Dec 29, 1890.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7xEDbVk7nj7yvWgF8qs0WrspsPsZqICap2lnDWJjIxjVpBmKxJdbPa_soS7_ew3I6yKhTNmMUC-2hwq3VflRQ0j6TyDBn6d-yYwNMB1t2g5SloIYf59nSRRSRDksfBcg0Bvlw/s1600/10356692_345252262313518_6677188555487971419_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7xEDbVk7nj7yvWgF8qs0WrspsPsZqICap2lnDWJjIxjVpBmKxJdbPa_soS7_ew3I6yKhTNmMUC-2hwq3VflRQ0j6TyDBn6d-yYwNMB1t2g5SloIYf59nSRRSRDksfBcg0Bvlw/s1600/10356692_345252262313518_6677188555487971419_n.jpg" height="238" width="320" /></a></div>
</div>
Johnnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03963904205772611218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31844504.post-84344063798752939442014-11-27T06:42:00.001-05:002014-12-29T15:15:25.723-05:00Burn It Down<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv2zX2Hkimdp9RNmuUD1GQVQ6bAtfd2b6rwP67mk88AdJ-SqXvyyGQ7oSSjYympzTi3UQQHWywvhVrpr6toV0iD8AfojlAe55-UU0_SUuzZ_U7Ysa-1UsffHrlH1MpRPxmlmw_/s1600/10802027_10152503226313947_5029351280412626176_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjv2zX2Hkimdp9RNmuUD1GQVQ6bAtfd2b6rwP67mk88AdJ-SqXvyyGQ7oSSjYympzTi3UQQHWywvhVrpr6toV0iD8AfojlAe55-UU0_SUuzZ_U7Ysa-1UsffHrlH1MpRPxmlmw_/s1600/10802027_10152503226313947_5029351280412626176_n.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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Burn it down.<br />
Burn the stores.<br />
Burn the signs.<br />
Burn the banks. <span class="text_exposed_show"><br /> and the thin blue line.</span><br />
<div class="text_exposed_show">
Burn the symbols. Burn the guns. Burn the cars. <br />
Burn it til it's all undone.<br />
Burn the prisons. Burn the courts. Burn the sentences.<br />
It's a last resort.<br />
Burn it down.<br />
Burn the system. Burn the constructs. Burn the norm. Burn the insults. <br />
Burn it til we all transform.<br />
Burn the broken hardheartedness.<br />
Burn the hate. <br />
Burn it down. <br />
The world can't wait.<br />
Melt the chains. <br />
Crack the seed.<br />
Burn the binds that cinch the mind.<br />
A monk once said, "A single spark, the whole forest burns."<br />
Light it up.<br />
Burn it down.<br />
<br />
(in memory of MLK and Mike Brown gunned down in the streets of America.)</div>
</div>
Johnnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03963904205772611218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31844504.post-68801353531711430252014-09-12T09:59:00.002-04:002014-09-12T09:59:24.611-04:00Lost Lessons on 9/11<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Thirteen years have gone by. Thirteen blood filled years.
The number of deaths perpetrated by the United States boggles the mind. The
numbers of U.S. deaths, including the first responders dying of cancers and
lung ailments, soldiers dying on the battle field, or soldiers killing
themselves at home, pales in comparison to the retribution we have meted out
across the globe- often to completely innocent victims of our self serving
“justice”. Yet our President endorses more bombing, more destruction, and more
death. On the thirteenth anniversary, with the carnage stretching from North
Africa to Central Asia our President says, “ISIL <span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">has no vision other
than the slaughter of all who stand in its way.” He could very easily be
describing us.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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This time he assures us, it is different. Our service
members are less likely to die because there will be no boots on the ground, (he
then explains he is sending hundreds of advisers to Iraq). The method is not
much different than the policy of murder we have carried out in sovereign
countries during Obama’s presidency. We will bomb them. Innocent men, women and
children will die. The weapon manufacturers will prosper. Our Congress members
will continue to enrich themselves. Opposition to the United States will grow. </div>
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<br /></div>
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The President points to Somalia and Yemen as success stories
in the war on terror. He does not mention the street protests embroiling the
capital of Yemen as that country teeters perilously close to chaos. He fails to
mention Libya, now a failed state after our intervention. Iraq and Afghanistan
are spun as success stories now that the troops are coming home, but incredible
levels of violence persist. </div>
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He claims we are safer because of these interventions and in
the next breath says we are in mortal danger. </div>
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He says, “<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">We cannot erase every trace of evil
from the world.” He goes on to claim, “Our timeless ideals will endure long
after those who offer only hate and destruction have been vanquished from the
Earth.” Though these contradictions make no sense we are asked to accept them,
and support them to show our “united front.”</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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President Obama speaks of living in a time of great change,
yet our policies remain mired in violence and coercion. The promise of “change”
propelled Obama into office. And change we’ve seen. President Bush has all but
vanished, painting paint by number self-portraits in his shower. Cheney’s got a
brand new heart and it’s a perfect match, he hasn’t an ounce of added empathy,
and he may be even meaner than before. Obama has also changed, his rhetoric morphing
into the words of his predecessors. Like Bush, Clinton, the senior Bush, and
Reagan before him, he talks of America’s goodness, our endless blessing, our
timeless values, and our leadership in the world. He speaks of our pursuit of freedom,
justice, and dignity as F-16’s and drones decimate people around the globe. In
times of crisis you may find him on the golf course. In due time he may be
painting watercolors as well, though for two more years he will paint with a
broader brush, his color crimson and his canvas the deserts and gardens of
Syria and Iraq. </div>
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In New York there is a new museum display, a 9/11 shrine for
family members of those who died in the towers is now opened for public
viewing. You can go online and do a virtual tour and zoom in on the thousands
of personal notes for those who were killed. It is heartbreaking. The
multitudes of notes cry out about loss, and memory, and love. I recognize this
heartbreak descending across the globe and settling on every village we bomb.
Every innocent we kill has loved ones left behind. The shattered lives of 9/11
now echo and multiply exponentially across the globe. </div>
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I did not see any notes that call for retribution or endless
war. This is the call of our government. Bombing is not the answer. Violence is
not the answer. Vanquishing is not the answer. Thirteen years teaches us.</div>
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The lessons were not lost on our government. They have
proven time and again they simply are uninterested or incapable of pursuing
peace. The lessons lost are lost on us, the citizens of America. We are asked
to remember our values, but not how they have been abused. We are reminded of
our personal goodness, but asked not to apply it to the state. We are reminded
of our greatness, but not of our faults. We are told to look ahead and asked to
ignore the current enrichment of a few at our expense. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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How much longer will we tolerate our government’s endless
war? How much longer will we tolerate our failing infrastructure, our failing schools,
our failing economy with our leaders promising a brighter future that never
comes? How much longer will we tolerate our soldiers returning home only to
kill themselves? How much longer will we tolerate the crushing of dissent with
our ultra-militarized police forces?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
war on terror brought to our streets. </div>
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President Obama likens ISIL to cancer. And like a good
doctor he warns us that risks are involved. But like a bad doctor, he never
tells the patient that they have alternatives to the often-fatal treatment he
provides. He never warns the patient their behavior contributes to the cancers
spread. He never tells the patient that they can be a proactive, positive
influence on their disease.</div>
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The President proclaims we “<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Uphold the values
that we stand for — timeless ideals that will endure long after those who offer
only hate and destruction have been vanquished from the Earth.”</span> Lofty
rhetoric aside, how much longer will it take Americans to recognize that it is
our government who offers hate, divisiveness, and destruction to the world? How
much longer will we accept the utter devastation of foreign peoples in the name
of our freedom? How much longer?</div>
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Johnnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03963904205772611218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31844504.post-91071978144722045742014-08-27T13:40:00.001-04:002014-08-29T07:03:09.492-04:00Innocent in Gaza<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The innocent of Gaza will never forget what is being done to
them. In our ignorance we speak of non-violence. We debate the use of rockets.
We call anyone who fights back a terrorist. We repeat, again and again, Hamas,
Hamas, Hamas along with self-defense, self-defense, self-defense. <br />
<br />
Some people in this world are entitled to self-defense. Some people are not. <br />
<br />
What will we, in our ignorance, and from a great distance, ask of the innocents
of Gaza? Will we ask them to forgive? To ignore? To pretend? Will we ask them,
"Where is the Palestinian Gandhi?" Will we ask them why they don't
want peace? Will we ask them to cooperate? To negotiate? Will we ask them why
they hate? Will we ask them why they fight? Will we ask them to forget?<br />
<br />
Yes, we
will.<br />
<br />
Gaza is being reduced to rubble. Living, breathing, beautiful human beings,
just dust and ashes now. We watch from a distance. We believe we are doing all
we can, or we believe there is nothing we can do. We absolve ourselves. Like a
cold bucket of ice water, our concepts bathe us in a soft light of self-satisfaction. <br />
<br />
While Gaza burns.</div>
</div>
Johnnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03963904205772611218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31844504.post-83152175755785711232014-07-12T15:45:00.004-04:002014-09-01T20:33:07.429-04:00Are You Still Alive?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "MS 明朝"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast;">i passed you on the street one day. </span>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Your palms extended to the sky.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">i sat with you at </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Your child’s funeral tent. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">We drank sweet tea, you told me</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">“Fares was the engine of our home.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Just another boy, </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Martyred in his bed.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiXG-KIqxOQkqq5R07JqvX5tPcPe2ZEoJRFoK_ZfjeTTYvgCEce6I1AdadbxUZjU6TwyDRJCwbSmqOss3-4nGeE5fn7IEdG_ItGebduEM4Ys-vMFHedDpdx3IjGLk2Z09nfg-H/s1600/DSC01399.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiXG-KIqxOQkqq5R07JqvX5tPcPe2ZEoJRFoK_ZfjeTTYvgCEce6I1AdadbxUZjU6TwyDRJCwbSmqOss3-4nGeE5fn7IEdG_ItGebduEM4Ys-vMFHedDpdx3IjGLk2Z09nfg-H/s1600/DSC01399.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">i was with you, reaping</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">In the fields of Khouza. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">i was with you</span> in the Gaza sea, </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The gunboats lit us up.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">You called me brother.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">You called me habibi.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">i saw you on the battlefront,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">a flower in your hair.</span><br />
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</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Mohammed, eight years old,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">brave beyond his years. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Today, i saw a picture </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">And the Israeli occupiers</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Are bombing homes again.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Today, i have but one</span></div>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<b>DO
Something!</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<b>Don’t
let us- </b><b>indigenous</b><b> Palestinians- lose faith in YOUR humanity,
because your silence is, literary, a crime against humanity.</b><b> First, you
have to</b><b> </b><b>consider</b><b> that what</b><b> the Sate of </b><b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b><b>Zionist Israel </b><b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>is doing</b><b> to us-Palestinians-</b><b>, is
apartheid by definition. Lynching our kids, uprooting our trees, destroying our
houses,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>killing our pregnant mothers,</b><b>
the medieval siege, </b><b>the </b><b>segregation </b><b>wall </b><b>and the
nasty checkpoints </b><b>are APARTHIED.</b><b> Second, the current situation
and the breaking news are showing that in each single spot there is a massacre;
Gaza strip is a massacre, Gaza city is a massacre, and all Gaza camps are
massacres. </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<b>Let
me ask you a question! Why are you waiting? Children turned into hot, bloody
pieces. Whole families have been slaughtered, and we are still waiting for you
to wake up! We are fed up with your silence. </b><b>We do not need a </b><b>year
or even another moment of your silence.</b><b> </b><b>We do not need another
press release</b><b>. </b><b>W</b><b>e do not want you to condemn and deplo</b><b>re.
What we need is a concrete</b><b> action</b><b>.</b><b> </b><b>S</b><b>how us
your humanity expel the devil out </b><b>of your country</b><b> </b><b>because</b><b>
what is going</b><b> on</b><b> right now in Gaza is by your nam</b><b>e</b><b>
and your governments</b><b> <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>support of Israeli
crimes that violate international laws</b><b>.</b><b> </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<b>Hello,
I am sure that you heard that within less than three days<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>more than hundred Palestinian were murdered,
and over six hundreds were injured, and the majority of them are kids and
women. Hey, you! Don't close your eyes or give us your deaf ear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Palestinians are not allowed to leave the
Gaza Strip for urgent medication due to the imposed siege since 9 years and
what did you do in all these years to stop this? How many decades do we have to
stay in an open prison? Let alone the destruction of our houses, infrastructure,
mosques, churches, schools, and hospitals. Have you not seen our loved ones
turned into headless bodies, and dismembered corpses?! Have you not seen the
murder of a fetus on his mother's womb?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How
many decades do we have to die in silence while everybody is watching? Wake up!</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<b>We
will not forgive your silence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
children’s blood will always haunt your conscious. </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<b>Do
not tell us that you are sending money, tents, and food! Shut the hell up! Do
not tell me that you are going to post a solidarity statement on Facebook and Twitter!</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<b>Show
us your anger, your rage, your humanity. Say no to the devil in your land. You’ve
heard the children’s pleas haven’t you? You’ve seen Palestinian flesh, bones
and blood scattered everywhere. True? What are you waiting for? More blood? We
ask all of you, human beings, to go and protest against the Israeli embassy,
look to them in the eyes and shout; stop Israel’s genocidal war, ethnic
cleansing, collective punishment against civilians and innocent populace and
end the horrific barbaric siege that is sucking our humanity. </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<b>Your
actions matter, your rage can save Palestinian kids, and your support is your
humanity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<b>Message
from indigenous Palestinian </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<b>Let
me hear you as soon as possible, </b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<b>There
is an F16 hovering over my head,</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<b>Respond
to the call of humanity,</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<b>Because Palestinians are human beings,</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;">
<b>Exactly
like your families. </b></div>
</div>
Johnnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03963904205772611218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31844504.post-15974379577784595172014-07-11T10:56:00.003-04:002014-08-27T13:44:57.828-04:00Letter to a Friend as Gaza Burns<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Thank you for your note. It is with a sick heart that i write this from my kitchen table. About 3 mos ago i made a vow to my partner that i would be here for her and not travel this summer as we prepare to move to Florida. i have already broken that vow once. i can not do it again.<br />
<br />
It is incredibly difficult- i feel physically ill. Not because my presence in Gaza would solve anything, but only because what is happening to the people there is so egregious and so stunningly inhumane that i prefer to stand with them--- in a sense to reclaim my own humanity which is diminished every time a bomb demolishes a home. Anything less doesn't seem like enough. So i feel like i've failed, not just a small failure before me, more a universal failure----a failure without redemption.<br />
<br />
For many days i have been besides myself with anger. Writing these words helps dissipate the violence in my mind and allows the incredible sadness of my being room to breathe. Unfortunately, it does nothing to stem the violence raining down on the people of Gaza.<br />
<br />
i reach out to touch the beauty around me, my friend, my dog, the ocean, the blue sky and it sustains me for a moment, realizing it is a temporary panacea as the bombs (our bombs, my bombs) continue to fall far around the world. i recognize the people of Gaza have few moments to reach out as the unrelenting bombardment continues. <br />
<br />
Last night they blew up the port and many fishing boats. They attacked a mosque (in this holy month of Ramadan), they attacked a hospital. They buried people in the rubble of their homes(as they have done everyday since the beginning of this onslaught). It is beyond my understanding.<br />
<br />
<br />
When human beings, my friends, like the journalist (and a new father) Mohammed Omer write, "I don't know what else to say. I think we are going to die." And my dear friend Intimaa writes, "i am going to try to call my family. I hope they are not all dead." my spirit is crushed.<br />
<br />
<br />
These are dark days.<br />
<br />
May beauty sustain us. Love, Johnny</div>
Johnnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03963904205772611218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31844504.post-35095331409725939042014-05-29T08:06:00.001-04:002014-05-29T08:06:40.757-04:00The City of the Dead<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The City of the Dead in Cairo is an ancient graveyard that
for decades has been home not only to the dearly departed interred there, but
for their relatives as well. The mausoleums not only house the dead, but one
million family members who are some of the most marginalized people in Cairo.
It is not unusual for generations of family members to be undocumented- without
birth certificates or identity papers. Many never attend a school. To the
government, these people are not only dead- they never existed in the first
place.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the run up to the first election since the military coup overthrew
the Morsi government, Field Marshall <span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Abdel Fattah al-</span>Sisi has made no
electoral promises and guaranteed only one thing- that the going will be more
difficult for Egyptians in the coming years.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In Cairo the pictures of Sisi are everywhere-from the shops
in old Islamic Cairo, to the bridges over the highway, to the buildings
downtown, they are plastered on taxis, donkey carts, and Mercedes automobiles.
The slogans range from “Egypt is my mother and Sisi is my father” to “The Lord Jesus
invites you to vote for Sisi in order to bring to an end the Muslim Brotherhood”,
(when churches burn it may be important to remember this one). </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was most disheartening to see banners hanging high above
Tahrir Square, the birthplace of the revolution. The place where Egyptians of
every sort gathered and talked about change and what they hoped for their kids
in the new Egypt- the Egypt they were imagining together. An Egypt free of the Mubarak
regime and their cronies, free of the corrupt business elite, and free of the
military’s influence over the government. Tahrir Square, whitewashed and
sanitized like all the massacre sites around Cairo, holds no hint of the young
people who gave their lives for their country and their dreams. They too never
existed. In the center of the square sits a monument to the martyrs erected by
the hypocritical coup government, defaced the day it was unveiled, today a tombstone
for the revolution. All of Cairo is a graveyard, a new City of the Dead and
Sisi’s visage looks down on it all. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Outside several polling stations around the pro-military Abassaya
neighborhood the atmosphere was festive and the cult of personality that
surrounds Sisi was in full bloom. The young men and women who spearheaded the
revolution were visibly absent. Parents and grandparents, with children in tow,
danced and waved flags, holding up their hands with the now ubiquitous dyed
finger. They wore t-shirts emblazoned with portraits of Sisi, and sang along to
the blaring sound systems and the honking horns. They posed for photos with
policeman and soldiers—some of them undoubtedly responsible for the murders of
their countrymen at Mohamed Mahmoud St, Abassaya Square, Tahrir and Rabaa and they
voted for the man who orchestrated their deaths. The chants of “Down with SCAF”
and “No to Military Rule” echoed deep in my heart, but the voices that raised
this cry in the streets of Cairo and throughout Egypt have been murdered,
imprisoned, or silenced with threats. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Early returns show Sisi winning the election against his
only opponent, Hamdeen Sabbahi with 90% of the vote. Not one poster of Sabbahi
adorns any walls in Cairo. He is invisible too. You see he lives in the new City
of the Dead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The turn out on Monday was so low Tuesday was declared a
national holiday in order to get the vote out, when that failed, voting was
extended for an additional day. The news anchors of the state sponsored news
channels, some with tears in their eyes, implored people to vote. 50% of the
electorate turned out to vote in the real elections- the elected government
Sisi overthrew. Preliminary counts of voter turnout on Monday show an anemic
turnout of 6.5%. It will be difficult to claim a mandate of the people or even
a legitimate election if this number doesn’t improve. As I sit writing this,
pictures of empty polling stations around the country are crossing my newsfeed.
Trucks circle the neighborhood with sound systems cranked up, exhorting people
to vote. The City Stars Mall, the largest mall in Cairo has been closed and
people are being told to leave and go vote. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This will not deter the Western election observers from
declaring a “clean” election. This will not deter Obama from declaring Sisi the
legitimate leader of Egypt and renewing the military cooperation that never really
ended in the first place- just last month the U.S. delivered 10 Apache attack
helicopters to the coup government- they will be used against the Egyptian
people living in the Sinai. No US Congressperson will raise their indignant
voice to remind the American people that Sisi, like Saddam and Gaddafi and
Assad, has killed his own people and should be removed from power. Sen. John
McCain will not stand with the protesters demanding the ouster of Sisi. Asst.
Secretary of State Nuland will not be delivering cookies.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Protests have been banned and the crackdown has been harsh- estimates
vary widely as to those detained. Wiki Thawra announced that 41,000 people have
been detained, many without trials, or sham trails- some courts sentencing
hundreds to death in a matter of minutes. Included in the arrests are (mostly
local) journalists attempting to alert the world to the situation in Egypt. Most
of the major Western media outlets have disappeared--- the aftermath of the
coup is a lot less photogenic than the spectacle of the “Arab Spring”. Independent
journalists are under threat, and largely absent. On Friday three
anti-government protestors were killed and dozens injured and arrested in
protests around the country (which went unreported in western media) by a police/military
force that has killed thousands of citizens with immunity since the coup in
July 2013.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So it will be back to business as usual in Egypt. The
election will be hailed as a democratic success. The average Egyptian will
continue to suffer with a lack of food, poor sanitation, poor infrastructure, terrible
schools, and decrepit hospitals. Government employees, doctors, nurses, and
teachers will continue to receive a pittance for their labor. Others will
scramble to survive. The crackdown will persist. Thousands will remain in detention
and more will die. Sisi will move into the palace. Exchanging his uniform for a
business suit, he will take Mubarak’s place at the trough. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The revolution, once the hope of tens of millions of ordinary
Egyptians and people throughout the world, is buried. But those who live in the
new City of the Dead exist and they will not remain invisible forever.</div>
</div>
Johnnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03963904205772611218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31844504.post-53879486953933982092014-01-29T11:23:00.004-05:002014-01-29T14:09:00.860-05:00New York City Mayor de Blasio Visits AIPAC<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The new mayor gives a speech to AIPAC. In
the speech, he said visiting Sderot, a city near the Gaza Strip especially
moved him. Mr. de Blasio said, “If they wanted to have time for their kids to
play, they have to be in a missileproof, bombproof play area, because you could
not know otherwise if your children would be safe.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Back on Election Day, John del Cecato,
the de Blasio campaign's chief media strategist, said, "De Blasio will win
because New Yorkers have not accepted that this tale of two cities needs to be
our future." I have a different “tale of two cities” for the new mayor.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVdKOz6lYs2PQE3MnY2NqaBLsoTgNisIi9PjQHYHeZqxhEd-StqAhzZ3RwSzPPW8d_IOkwcgYYNx-oheDN4yLPYIIhIN7SU1gmOc6sgcgJHmQMi15uKjzogPdWvv46hmK7SBzJ/s1600/DSC01503.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVdKOz6lYs2PQE3MnY2NqaBLsoTgNisIi9PjQHYHeZqxhEd-StqAhzZ3RwSzPPW8d_IOkwcgYYNx-oheDN4yLPYIIhIN7SU1gmOc6sgcgJHmQMi15uKjzogPdWvv46hmK7SBzJ/s1600/DSC01503.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fare's father stands in his son's bedroom.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> </span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I traveled further west, to the village
of Beit Hanoun in Gaza, where I met a young father whose 8 year-old son had
been decapitated in his sleep by an Israeli missile during the “Pillar of
Cloud” attack. Fares Al-Basyouni was 8 years old. The children of Gaza have no
“missile proof, bombproof” play areas, and they are not safe from Israeli
missiles even while they sleep.</span>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Paraphrasing Mr. de Blasio, “You can’t
have an experience like that and not feel solidarity with the people and know
that they’re on the front line of fighting against so many challenges.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I stand on the side of justice.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">If pandering to AIPAC is the
“progressive path” the mayor claims to be on he will be a massive disappointment
to real progressives.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/Dmt4zbLXL3U?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
</div>
Johnnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03963904205772611218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31844504.post-20315935257589557832014-01-24T02:27:00.002-05:002014-01-24T02:33:27.687-05:00A New Exhibit at the Museum<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/AuHWTwDJ5QQ?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
On Jan 11th, the 12th anniversary of the opening of Guantanamo, WAT opened a new exhibit at the museum of American History- an interactive exhibit denouncing the Guantanamo Prison Camp and calling on the administration to close it down.</div>
Johnnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03963904205772611218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31844504.post-66602655032904103332013-12-10T06:22:00.003-05:002013-12-10T06:22:55.326-05:00Free Djamel<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/EMaBUrdruB4?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />
CCR client Djamel Ameziane, one of the first men interred at
Guantanamo Bay, has been sent from Guantánamo to Algeria against his
will and in violation of international law. He is now being held in
secret detention and is at risk. Djamel is an innocent man who has
suffered detention at Guantánamo for over a decade, despite having been
cleared by both President Bush and President Obama.<br />
<br />
On
Friday, December 6, in front of the Algerian embassy in NYC,
representatives from CCR, Witness Against Torture, and World Can't Wait
demonstrated to call on the Algerian government to release Djamel
immediately, and to respect and protect his human rights.</div>
Johnnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03963904205772611218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31844504.post-14421817999123546562013-09-11T13:03:00.001-04:002013-09-11T13:04:59.319-04:00The Tension Between “Never Forget” and “Looking Forward, not Backwards”<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
It is reported that this year the commemorations for 9-11 will
be “low key”. The names of the dead will be read. Bells will toll. Moments of
silence will be observed. I didn’t lose a friend or a family member on 9-11. I
imagine it is a rare day that goes by when a loved one doesn’t remember that
dreadful day. I imagine life is never “low key”.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The same mourning is played out across the globe. For every
person lost in the attack on the twin towers there have been thousands of
deaths around the world. The brunt of America’s retribution fell on Iraq, a
country that had nothing to do with the attacks of 9-11. America’s attack on
Iraq was based on lies and fabrications. Hundreds of thousands, if not millions
have died. Millions are refugees, their families dispersed on the wind. Babies
are born each day with horrendous birth defects. Children die from cancers and
diseases unheard of prior to America’s attack. President Obama often claims
credit for ending the war in Iraq and bringing the troops home. Yet the war is
not ended for those who served. Every day 22 veterans and service members kill
themselves in the United States. Suicide is at epidemic levels, the death toll
surpassing those killed on 9-11. No one claims credit for this. And Iraq is in
chaos. Car bombs and suicide bombers kill dozens on a nearly daily basis. One
thousand people died in July alone. The war is not over, though America has
moved on.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Those responsible for the illegal war on Iraq remain free.
Their lies have been exposed. Their crimes are obvious. Rather prosecute these
men and women, Obama said he believed “We need to look forward as opposed to
looking backwards.” There is expediency in looking forward, especially when
your administration will take up the policies of your predecessor and continue
to act in unlawful and immoral ways. Drone attacks now kill in Yemen, Pakistan,
Afghanistan, and Somalia. The President reviews a “kill list” on a weekly
basis. Targeted assassination is the norm. Innocent men remain imprisoned in Guant<span style="mso-ascii-font-family: Cambria; mso-hansi-font-family: Cambria;">á</span>namo.
Libya is decimated after our humanitarian intervention. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Syria, already in shattered from war, is now under threat of
an American attack. After two years of watching the carnage unfold, an American
red line has finally been surpassed. In the lead up to bombing, there has been
little looking ahead and many calls to never forget. Hitler has been conjured
by Kerry, Clinton, Obama and the media pundits, as usual, when America wants to
demonize a “brutal dictator” like Ahmadinejad, like Hussein, like Gaddafi and
now Assad. Saddam Hussein’s use of chemical weapons (supplied by the United
States) against Iran has also been called upon as evidence of Assad’s depravity.
There has been no mention of America’s use of chemicals. No mention of dropping
Agent Orange on Vietnam and the ongoing health crisis in that country four
decades later. No mention of napalm (for this John Kerry should hang his head
in shame). No mention of the chemicals sprayed over wide swaths of Latin
America in our endless “War on Drugs”. No mention of white phosphorus used on
civilians in Fallujah. Our “never forgetting” has its limits, you see, as does
our “not looking backwards”. Quoting Kerry, “<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Let me be clear: The
indiscriminate slaughter of civilians, the killing of women and children and
innocent bystanders by chemical weapons is a moral obscenity.” Unfortunately
our morality has its limits as well.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
President Obama claims our<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"> ideals, principles,
and “world leadership” are at stake in Syria. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Laying out his moral justification for a
cruise missile attack, on the eve of Sept 11<sup>th</sup>, Obama had the
audacity to claim, “America is not the world’s policeman. Terrible things
happen across the globe, and it is beyond our means to right every wrong. But
when, with modest effort and risk, we can stop children from being gassed to
death, and thereby make our own children safer over the long run, I believe we
should act. That’s what makes America different. That’s what makes us
exceptional. With humility, but with resolve, let us never lose sight of that
essential truth.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">With humility and resolve Americans
should deal honestly with our past, with our present, and with our dire future.
With modest effort and risk we <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">can</i>
make the future safer for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">all</i>
children. We can do this by simply demanding accountability of our leaders and
recognizing the only thing that is exceptional about America is our inability
to see other’s lives as valuable as our own.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
No one forgets the loss of loved ones at the hands of their
oppressors. No one forgets their child’s (or their parent’s) suicide when they
return from war. Loved one’s memories are long and children inherit the
stories. Looking forward does not erase the past, except perhaps in the “victor’s”
history books. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In time, Hilary Clinton, John Kerry and Obama will find
their places in history alongside Rumsfeld, Rice, Cheney, and Bush. Each and
every one of them are hypocrites, liars, and war criminals. And as the world
has paid for the criminal acts of 9-11, we Americans will one day pay for our
countries crimes.</div>
</div>
Johnnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03963904205772611218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31844504.post-90226565812861022592013-05-13T21:24:00.003-04:002013-05-13T21:27:18.607-04:00Hunger Strike Song<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/WKFqCI6bIs0?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
Day 96 of a Hunger Strike at Guantanamo. The vast majority of the prisoners are participating. Many are being force fed. Contact your Congress people, contact the White house. Demand action. Close Guantanamo. Free all the men who are cleared for release. Share this song. Stand and sing!</div>
Johnnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03963904205772611218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31844504.post-29429580958412113682013-04-16T08:50:00.001-04:002013-04-16T08:55:26.092-04:00I've Seen Them Before<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
i haven’t looked at the images from Boston. i’ve seen them before. In Iraq, Afghanistan, Palestine and myriad other places. <br />
<br />
i haven’t read the stories emanating out of Boston. i’ve heard them before. Roz Mohammed, whose brother was killed in a drone attack in rural Afghanistan; little Ayoub, who was blown to pieces under the lemon tree in the family garden in Gaza City, his mother holding a blood splattered lemon as she spoke of her little boy, kissing her goodbye and running outside to go to school; eight year old Fares, the “generator” of the family decapitated as he slept in the family home in Beit Hanoun. These stories are commonplace in the world where American foreign policy is at work. And i am tired of hearing them. i am tired of mourning tents and mother's tears. My heart has been carved into little pieces. In this butcher shop of a world i begin again.<br />
<br />
<span class="userContent"><span class="text_exposed_show">The mistake is the belief that there is a difference between here and there. There is not.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span class="userContent"><span class="text_exposed_show">People, all of
us, have been paying in endless death and dismemberment. If you woke up
angry and vengeful </span></span><span class="userContent"><span class="text_exposed_show"><span class="userContent"><span class="text_exposed_show">this morning</span></span>, take a very careful look in the
mirror. Go beyond this blemish or that, and look in those angry eyes.
Delve deep and see how tarnished and hard our hearts have become. If you
do not recognize that the children killed in Iraq, Afghanistan,
Palestine, Somalia, Libya, Yemen, are as very precious as your children
or the children injured and killed in Boston, you are gravely mistaken,
you have been blinded.<br /> <br /> We Americans, each and every one of us,
are killers. We are supporters of terrorism. Each and every time a child
is killed by a drone, a tank shell, a bomb (errant or not), machine gun
fire, we hold the trigger. We are the terrorists we have been searching
for. <br /> <br /> There is no "just war". There is no "legal bombing".
There is only hatred and ignorance or love. Until we recognize our place
as perpetrators in this terrible cycle, hate and ignorance will out.<br /> <br /> i choose love.</span></span><br />
<br />
These stories resonate in light of Boston. It is beyond the time to find a new course in the world. </div>
Johnnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03963904205772611218noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31844504.post-8382875232219558072013-04-07T21:43:00.000-04:002013-04-07T21:50:06.182-04:00Land Day is Everyday, Everywhere<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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In the end they will take it.
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Why not surrender?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Relent . Give up.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Decades of struggle.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Stones vs. tanks.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Like arrows vs. Gatling guns.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s silly.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Hopeless.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Undeniable as well.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They want it all.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Every last hectare.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Did they tell you? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There is no place for you.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Did they tell you?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Your children will die.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Manifest destiny.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Propaganda to propagate</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
colonizers on native land.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Judea and Samaria.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Propaganda to propagate</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
colonizers on Palestinian land.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Land day is everyday, everywhere.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It is not a nostalgic look back.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It is a possibility </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
of what yet might be.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A possibility to recover </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
what was lost.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Taken. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Stolen .</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A possibility to stop </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
the theft happening now, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
in front of you.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You don't see it? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You think </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
it's ancient history? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You are trapped.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In your settler mind.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In your colonizer comforts.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
i know. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
i too live on stolen land. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Land day is everyday, everywhere.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A possibility to resurrect </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
a way of life.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A possibility to</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
recover your heart. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Surrender is not an option.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Collaboration is a crime.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The savages are the civilized.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The terrorists are the state.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The fight will continue </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Until the very last stone.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Until the very last drop of blood.</div>
</div>
Johnnyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03963904205772611218noreply@blogger.com0