The 76th Hunger Games
غزّة
I remember reading Hunger Games in one go, after watching the first movie. It was easy enough to read fiction, in the safety of a home.
I remember reading till the last moments of the war, when Katniss was trying to make her way to the Capitol, the crowd was running towards aids from the sky, only to be bombed. Then a second wave of people - medics - ran towards the scattered crowds who are now dead and injured - to save the survivors - only to be killed by the second blast.
Among them was Prim, Katniss’s sister.
The savagery was shocking to read at the time (for me). Aids were used to lure people in, blast them up, to lure a second group in, and kill them all.
I wondered at the time - where did the author get this kind of idea.
It dawned on me recently it was not her imagination.
Every day, for the last 8 months, I’ve seen atrocity of similar nature if not worse, cruelty and barbarism that knows no bound. Every time people thought “this must be it, this must be the line”, they kept pushing the line. I don’t think any humans can bear the non-stop humiliation and tortures of losing your life, your loved ones, your homes, your rights, while being silenced, gaslighted and lied to. Yet there they stand, and endured, for 76 years. It’s enough to drive any of us insane within 3 months. I’m certain of it.
I have seen things that, at some point I have to ask “Are people seeing these? Are people ignoring these? Are we living in alternate universe? How is it possible that you can lie with a straight face that this didn’t happen?”. Some part of me wonder why bothers - nobody cares, then some part of me thought this is exactly what they hope for. Repeat a lie long enough, it becomes real.
Truth is, I don’t expect the world to care anymore, it’s the new normal. I also don’t expect these atrocities will end any time soon. I don’t expect to see a Nuremberg 2.0 because I know for a fact this world is unjust, the ones in power are corrupted, and we are not of certain melanin composition or worthy background to meet the threshold of “care”.
The discardables.
I’m ready to wake up one day to the news of غزّة being utterly completely decimated, millions dead, and the world continue without batting an eye. Some outraged and horrified, some lip-service condemnations, but at the end, nothing will be done. People can pretend nothing ever happened.
“Perhaps they will give them a museum”, somebody commented.
“Perhaps they will be given some rights to own casinos in the future”, another said.
Back in November, I knew of uncle Khaled, he is this man.
What can be said? Amid a sea of dead bodies and calamities, he just calmly kissed his grandchildren goodbye before the burial. He gently nudged Reem, as if she were asleep. Her little body was lifeless, but serene. She is now finally safe. He called her ‘soul of my soul’.
A few months later another video of him feeding hundreds of stray cats amid the destroyed street. Him being alive somehow meant something.
I was reminded of a video of another baby girl petting her cat while saying “When I die, don’t feed on me”, and thinking to myself “why should he feed the cats?”.
While everything unimaginable is being done to humiliate, destroy, and squeeze every soul from the last bit of light in غزّة, the people like uncle Khaled were not going to let it happen.
They still say gratitude to God, and did what they could to maintain their lives, through the cold, through the flood, through the scorching sun, the smell of death, the sound of sorrows, and non-stop drones, which will later be sold to more peace-loving people in the world, trademarked “field tested”.
Everyday muslims are supposed to pray 5 times, in that tiny strip of land, they pray the 6th - the prayer for the dead - every day.
Every day, bombs at night, cries and screams, morning ritual of finding the bodies, scattered, torn apart, unidentifiable - then the search for foods. Food aids from the sky, thanks to the coward neighbors, food aids to the sea, to feed the fish and train future athletes, perhaps - again, very thoughtful of the world. Food aids from the trucks, destroyed by settlers, used as baits - just like Hunger Games. Hide in schools, schools get bombed, hide in hospitals, hospitals get destroyed, hide under the sun, drones playing hide and seek, hide in houses - hugging each other to count to the moment you all die together, but at least together. Humans, dogs, horses, donkeys, wandering on the street - white flags or no, shot dead, recorded, laughed at. Women's clothing, taken as trophies in selfies. Aid workers, targeted three times to ensure 100% dead, gained some brief media attention, but then their citizenship failed to withstand the impunity of the untouchables.
Little bread crumbs for the discardables, little circus for the untouchables on Tiktok and Telegram.
8 months.
Panem today, Panem tomorrow, Panem forever.
