Pistol Shots at the Past
The life you have lived doesn’t matter, what really matters is the story you tell about your life…
I convinced myself that I could invent my past, and go on as if nothing happened – as if I didn’t live in a country where brothers killed each other in a civil war, as if I didn’t lose my beloved one with a bullet to the neck… I moved to another country where my new friends know nothing about him or about the tragic stories I could tell. I go out for a drink with them in the evenings and when they talk about their breakups I listen and don’t think of what happened one day in September.
I wrote a script about my life that I recite every time someone asks a private question; I deleted some events of my real life, and added others. I believe that you really can invent your past and this is not like lying to people, it is a conspiracy against memories and the way they try and haunt us in images of the past.
However, I wasn’t like this at the beginning of the war. At first, I wanted to write every small feeling I had and keep them until the war ended, so I could go back to my old memories and think of how strong I was. Unfortunately, the war doesn’t end in places like my country.
I think that my biggest mistake was that I framed my feelings of pitying myself, feeling sorry for everything, and my rage! Rage on life, on God, on this world, on weapons, on the bullet that found its way to him, and on every explosion in the city. I framed those feelings sometimes in a word, a sentence, or a photo with a caption and I added them on facebook. I still don’t know why I shared them! Did I want to collect people’s pities in the shape of likes? Or was it a way of saying out loud that I was hurt and I needed help? I still don’t know the purpose.
Now, Facebook reminds me every day of what I wrote in a day like this in October five years ago in 2012. It reminds me of my suicidal thoughts that I had signs for in my FB statuses. In a day like this, five years ago, I shared a Spanish poem for Jorge Luis Borges called “Ausencia,” or absence in English, and I felt every line of it and every word of pain it expressed. It also reminded me that last year in the same day I went hiking with my friends and I was very happy… trying to say that life goes on… Did I really need to see or remember this? Rasul Gamzatuv said: “If you fire at the past from a pistol, The future will shoot back from a cannon.” So make peace with your past don’t just bury it, otherwise Facebook will push it back to your sight every time you try to look away…
Now, I am a new person, or I’d like to believe so. I work in humanitarian assistance and try to lead a relatively balanced life, but in my job, I face people who sometimes leave me speechless, people who leave me standing face to face with my past, with God, and with my rage.
Yesterday, a woman came to us and said she didn’t want to ask for anything, she just wanted to share her pain. Her voice was deep and the wrinkles on her face looked like the terrains of a deserted land. I felt like hugging her before even hearing what she had to say. I wanted to say that I can feel her pain before she said anything, but then I could’t say anything, I couldn’t lie and say that I felt her pain. She showed us a YouTube video of an airstrike where you can see body parts everywhere. I was shocked. What was she trying to say?
“Those body parts belong to my daughter and my husband” said the woman…
Once up on a time in a kingdom fa.. Oh sorry not in a kingdom , in some kind of republic or an ex-republic there lived a princes.. oh sorry just a normal girl like any one you may ever knew .. she is not a writer but she likes to write sometimes.
Written for Rage Against the Machine Month. If you’d like to be a part of the challenge, find more information Here. But first, leave a comment and let Levantine know what you think about her words, and be sure to visit her over at Levant Woman when you’re done.