Cui bono?

I am going to try, very hard, not to take a side here. And to not make this political, cause this is not the right place.

I am on the other side of the world, so obviously the information I get is manipulated and I can hardly get the truth out of it. But I wonder if anyone can, anyway.

My country is in pain, it is dying. All the values and rules that once made France a beautiful and strong country are today replaced by egoism, power and violence. Everyone believe he can make his own law, in the name of freedom. This game between people claiming their independence and personal freedom and bigger organization trying to control and organize these freedoms has already cost lives, has already destroyed respect and hope, and has created an environment in which we cannot bare to live together anymore.

A qui profite le crime? Cui bono?

As much as I enjoy my sweet escape, I cannot deny what is happening. It is not my purpose here to take a stand, but it eats me away. How could we go from Fluctuat nec mergitur to this? How come the heroes of yesterday become the number 1 enemy? Who benefits from this ? Because it is all about benefit, we all know it. We might be blinded by our emotions, but let us not forget that what rules the world (besides girls) is money, profit and power. So this masquerade is not about laws, pepper spray, and crushed freedom; it is about a scared government using last resort weapons to control a population claiming what was promised. What you see is your friend bleeding in the street, after an infuriated policeman pushed him back too hard. And you think you face your enemy, so you scream louder, losing your cool, and you get eventually hit as well. Because the  »enemy » in front of you does not know any better, because he is just as scared as you, because he is doing the job one has asked him to do.

When he was asked to enter the Bataclan, not knowing what he would find behind those doors, he did not think twice. He went and he saved lives. And we all applaud, sincerely. When he is asked to walk the street and put down any form of rebellion, he does not think twice. And we applaud, sarcastically, because we do not understand why they are now treating us like terrorists.

He did not change side. He cannot pick one. He is a marionette, who, once back home, shell-less but not shameless, is just as desperate as you, when you are caring for your bleeding friend, laying on the cobblestones.

Under the cobblestones thrown from both sides do not lay any beach anymore, any freedom at all. It is all dirt and dead hopes.

We’ve got the wrong guy. The empty shells walking down the streets are harmed more than armed. Fear does make you do the craziest of things. It is unforgivable, but it has a explanation. One who is scared should talk out his fear and try to find comfort, instead of locking himself and ending up violently reject any form of communication, as clumsy as she can be. We are not taught to communicate and open up, we are taught to be tough. It goes wrong from the very root of our education. We are not taught to live together, not in our school, not in our city, country, and not in our world.

We’ve got the wrong guys. They are supposed to  »take care » of us. They take care of business. They do not understand what is going on, for ages already. So they used poor men’s heavy weapon. They want to shut down a revolution they did not see coming, because they did not understand the problems they were trying to fix in the first place. The cleavage between our people and those who govern them has become so deep that nothing good can come out of it. The frustration has grown so much from both sides that no unity is possible anymore.

As hope is dying, rage is growing. Weapon replaces reason. We are not together anymore. We play against each other, in the hands of an elite blinded by power and money. Divide and conquer. So basic, and yet so effective. So sad and so destructive of the real asset of any community. We are the people, we are the heart and the soul of a dying country… and we are killing each other. This is when egoism and fear take over. My life before yours, especially if you are not wearing the same uniform as me. My life before yours, at any price.

The street fights are a smokescreen. I know it is easy for me, from here, to say but I am still going to say it : look further. Do not be afraid and be ready to fight the right fight. Your enemy is not in the street. A man fighting for his freedom can never be an enemy. A manipulated man is never an enemy. Look behind, look further, look higher. The battle is going to be much bigger than that. Truncheon of yesterday will soon be majorette’s baton. Once we can get organize together we will be able to face the real evil. But first we have to stop fighting our peers. Do not be fooled, there is way too much to lose. And so much to love.

It has been raining in Hawaii for a couple of hours. I arrived yesterday under a sky full of stars, took a shower built in a tropical garden, dreamed heavily and got woken up with birds’s songs I had never heard before. From the terrace outside my door I admire the place I am calling home for the coming days. Green grass, dark rocky cliff, big and tall trees, colorful flowers, hanging hamac, handmade chairs and tables. In the warm blowing wind, I take a deep breath and draw a serene smile that has not left my face since.

Cycling down the only street of the island, I slalom between flooded paths, roots and fallen palm branches. On my right, the great ocean. Waves are rolling, and walking surf boards are all over the cycling path. Here is the green food truck: I was told to stop by to start up my day properly. After the airport food I had yesterday, this is real comfort. A perfect spiced up savory breakfast : fried rice, scrambled eggs and veggies.

On the way back, carrying my groceries in my Zeeman bag (Dankje wel K, wat een heldin jij bent!), the rain keeps on falling all over me. Yep, still smiling. Soaking, in tropical rain and radical happiness. What makes the all difference with Home-Holland is that the rain here is warm, and so is the wind. It whistles through branches flowers, in perfect harmony with the many black and yellow beaked birds. I will soon have pictures to illustrate the paradise I am trying to describe here. Contemplative, I did not see the pond coming and rode right in the middle of it. While my shorts are drying, I am enjoying the garden with a slice of mango bread – yes, I put some peanut butter on top and it is delicious.

The rain will not stop – me from going to the beach. I could not be further away from home, and the feelings I get are bittersweet. I am happy and proud to have made this sweet escape possible for myself; and I feel guilty for not being home-home, rebelling against a toughening up group of cowards. One fight at a time. I know. But today, my bruised French heart took a bit over the genuine smile of my adventurer’s tanned face (had to mention the tan, just so Sanne would be a bit jealous. ykily). Taking distance with what really matters is not an easy move, but it is so rewarding for it allows me to see things for what they are. My beloved french patriots, we are not dead. But we are not above laws either, so please stay together. Fluctuat nec mergitur, remember?

Love, Z.

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