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lady midnight
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#326

Post by lady midnight »

saidov odgovor huntingtonu :) :)


The Clash of Ignorance

by EDWARD W. SAID

[THE NATION/October 22, 2001 issue]

Samuel Huntington's article "The Clash of Civilizations?" appeared in the Summer 1993 issue of Foreign Affairs, where it immediately attracted a surprising amount of attention and reaction. Because the article was intended to supply Americans with an original thesis about "a new phase" in world politics after the end of the cold war, Huntington's terms of argument seemed compellingly large, bold, even visionary. He very clearly had his eye on rivals in the policy-making ranks, theorists such as Francis Fukuyama and his "end of history" ideas, as well as the legions who had celebrated the onset of globalism, tribalism and the dissipation of the state. But they, he allowed, had understood only some aspects of this new period. He was about to announce the "crucial, indeed a central, aspect" of what "global politics is likely to be in the coming years." Unhesitatingly he pressed on:

"It is my hypothesis that the fundamental source of conflict in this new world will not be primarily ideological or primarily economic. The great divisions among humankind and the dominating source of conflict will be cultural. Nation states will remain the most powerful actors in world affairs, but the principal conflicts of global politics will occur between nations and groups of different civilizations. The clash of civilizations will dominate global politics. The fault lines between civilizations will be the battle lines of the future."

Most of the argument in the pages that followed relied on a vague notion of something Huntington called "civilization identity" and "the interactions among seven or eight [sic] major civilizations," of which the conflict between two of them, Islam and the West, gets the lion's share of his attention. In this belligerent kind of thought, he relies heavily on a 1990 article by the veteran Orientalist Bernard Lewis, whose ideological colors are manifest in its title, "The Roots of Muslim Rage." In both articles, the personification of enormous entities called "the West" and "Islam" is recklessly affirmed, as if hugely complicated matters like identity and culture existed in a cartoonlike world where Popeye and Bluto bash each other mercilessly, with one always more virtuous pugilist getting the upper hand over his adversary. Certainly neither Huntington nor Lewis has much time to spare for the internal dynamics and plurality of every civilization, or for the fact that the major contest in most modern cultures concerns the definition or interpretation of each culture, or for the unattractive possibility that a great deal of demagogy and downright ignorance is involved in presuming to speak for a whole religion or civilization. No, the West is the West, and Islam Islam.

The challenge for Western policy-makers, says Huntington, is to make sure that the West gets stronger and fends off all the others, Islam in particular. More troubling is Huntington's assumption that his perspective, which is to survey the entire world from a perch outside all ordinary attachments and hidden loyalties, is the correct one, as if everyone else were scurrying around looking for the answers that he has already found. In fact, Huntington is an ideologist, someone who wants to make "civilizations" and "identities" into what they are not: shut-down, sealed-off entities that have been purged of the myriad currents and countercurrents that animate human history, and that over centuries have made it possible for that history not only to contain wars of religion and imperial conquest but also to be one of exchange, cross-fertilization and sharing. This far less visible history is ignored in the rush to highlight the ludicrously compressed and constricted warfare that "the clash of civilizations" argues is the reality. When he published his book by the same title in 1996, Huntington tried to give his argument a little more subtlety and many, many more footnotes; all he did, however, was confuse himself and demonstrate what a clumsy writer and inelegant thinker he was.

The basic paradigm of West versus the rest (the cold war opposition reformulated) remained untouched, and this is what has persisted, often insidiously and implicitly, in discussion since the terrible events of September 11. The carefully planned and horrendous, pathologically motivated suicide attack and mass slaughter by a small group of deranged militants has been turned into proof of Huntington's thesis. Instead of seeing it for what it is--the capture of big ideas (I use the word loosely) by a klix band of crazed fanatics for criminal purposes--international luminaries from former Pakistani Prime Minister Benazir Bhutto to Italian Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi have pontificated about Islam's troubles, and in the latter's case have used Huntington's ideas to rant on about the West's superiority, how "we" have Mozart and Michelangelo and they don't. (Berlusconi has since made a halfhearted apology for his insult to "Islam.")

But why not instead see parallels, admittedly less spectacular in their destructiveness, for Osama bin Laden and his followers in cults like the Branch Davidians or the disciples of the Rev. Jim Jones at Guyana or the Japanese Aum Shinrikyo? Even the normally sober British weekly The Economist, in its issue of September 22-28, can't resist reaching for the vast generalization, praising Huntington extravagantly for his "cruel and sweeping, but nonetheless acute" observations about Islam. "Today," the journal says with unseemly solemnity, Huntington writes that "the world's billion or so Muslims are 'convinced of the superiority of their culture, and obsessed with the inferiority of their power.'" Did he canvas 100 Indonesians, 200 Moroccans, 500 Egyptians and fifty Bosnians? Even if he did, what sort of sample is that?

Uncountable are the editorials in every American and European newspaper and magazine of note adding to this vocabulary of gigantism and apocalypse, each use of which is plainly designed not to edify but to inflame the reader's indignant passion as a member of the "West," and what we need to do. Churchillian rhetoric is used inappropriately by self-appointed combatants in the West's, and especially America's, war against its haters, despoilers, destroyers, with scant attention to complex histories that defy such reductiveness and have seeped from one territory into another, in the process overriding the boundaries that are supposed to separate us all into divided armed camps.

This is the problem with unedifying labels like Islam and the West: They mislead and confuse the mind, which is trying to make sense of a disorderly reality that won't be pigeonholed or strapped down as easily as all that. I remember interrupting a man who, after a lecture I had given at a West Bank university in 1994, rose from the audience and started to attack my ideas as "Western," as opposed to the strict Islamic ones he espoused. "Why are you wearing a suit and tie?" was the first retort that came to mind. "They're Western too." He sat down with an embarrassed smile on his face, but I recalled the incident when information on the September 11 terrorists started to come in: how they had mastered all the technical details required to inflict their homicidal evil on the World Trade Center, the Pentagon and the aircraft they had commandeered. Where does one draw the line between "Western" technology and, as Berlusconi declared, "Islam's" inability to be a part of "modernity"?

One cannot easily do so, of course. How finally inadequate are the labels, generalizations and cultural assertions. At some level, for instance, primitive passions and sophisticated know-how converge in ways that give the lie to a fortified boundary not only between "West" and "Islam" but also between past and present, us and them, to say nothing of the very concepts of identity and nationality about which there is unending disagreement and debate. A unilateral decision made to draw lines in the sand, to undertake crusades, to oppose their evil with our good, to extirpate terrorism and, in Paul Wolfowitz's nihilistic vocabulary, to end nations entirely, doesn't make the supposed entities any easier to see; rather, it speaks to how much simpler it is to make bellicose statements for the purpose of mobilizing collective passions than to reflect, examine, sort out what it is we are dealing with in reality, the interconnectedness of innumerable lives, "ours" as well as "theirs."

In a remarkable series of three articles published between January and March 1999 in Dawn, Pakistan's most respected weekly, the late Eqbal Ahmad, writing for a Muslim audience, analyzed what he called the roots of the religious right, coming down very harshly on the mutilations of Islam by absolutists and fanatical tyrants whose obsession with regulating personal behavior promotes "an Islamic order reduced to a penal code, stripped of its humanism, aesthetics, intellectual quests, and spiritual devotion." And this "entails an absolute assertion of one, generally de-contextualized, aspect of religion and a total disregard of another. The phenomenon distorts religion, debases tradition, and twists the political process wherever it unfolds." As a timely instance of this debasement, Ahmad proceeds first to present the rich, complex, pluralist meaning of the word jihad and then goes on to show that in the word's current confinement to indiscriminate war against presumed enemies, it is impossible "to recognize the Islamic--religion, society, culture, history or politics--as lived and experienced by Muslims through the ages." The modern Islamists, Ahmad concludes, are "concerned with power, not with the soul; with the mobilization of people for political purposes rather than with sharing and alleviating their sufferings and aspirations. Theirs is a very limited and time-bound political agenda." What has made matters worse is that similar distortions and zealotry occur in the "Jewish" and "Christian" universes of discourse.

It was Conrad, more powerfully than any of his readers at the end of the nineteenth century could have imagined, who understood that the distinctions between civilized London and "the heart of darkness" quickly collapsed in extreme situations, and that the heights of European civilization could instantaneously fall into the most barbarous practices without preparation or transition. And it was Conrad also, in The Secret Agent (1907), who described terrorism's affinity for abstractions like "pure science" (and by extension for "Islam" or "the West"), as well as the terrorist's ultimate moral degradation.

For there are closer ties between apparently warring civilizations than most of us would like to believe; both Freud and Nietzsche showed how the traffic across carefully maintained, even policed boundaries moves with often terrifying ease. But then such fluid ideas, full of ambiguity and skepticism about notions that we hold on to, scarcely furnish us with suitable, practical guidelines for situations such as the one we face now. Hence the altogether more reassuring battle orders (a crusade, good versus evil, freedom against fear, etc.) drawn out of Huntington's alleged opposition between Islam and the West, from which official discourse drew its vocabulary in the first days after the September 11 attacks. There's since been a noticeable de-escalation in that discourse, but to judge from the steady amount of hate speech and actions, plus reports of law enforcement efforts directed against Arabs, Muslims and Indians all over the country, the paradigm stays on.

One further reason for its persistence is the increased presence of Muslims all over Europe and the United States. Think of the populations today of France, Italy, Germany, Spain, Britain, America, even Sweden, and you must concede that Islam is no longer on the fringes of the West but at its center. But what is so threatening about that presence? Buried in the collective culture are memories of the first great Arab-Islamic conquests, which began in the seventh century and which, as the celebrated Belgian historian Henri Pirenne wrote in his landmark book Mohammed and Charlemagne (1939), shattered once and for all the ancient unity of the Mediterranean, destroyed the Christian-Roman synthesis and gave rise to a new civilization dominated by northern powers (Germany and Carolingian France) whose mission, he seemed to be saying, is to resume defense of the "West" against its historical-cultural enemies. What Pirenne left out, alas, is that in the creation of this new line of defense the West drew on the humanism, science, philosophy, sociology and historiography of Islam, which had already interposed itself between Charlemagne's world and classical antiquity. Islam is inside from the start, as even Dante, great enemy of Mohammed, had to concede when he placed the Prophet at the very heart of his Inferno.

Then there is the persisting legacy of monotheism itself, the Abrahamic religions, as Louis Massignon aptly called them. Beginning with Judaism and Christianity, each is a successor haunted by what came before; for Muslims, Islam fulfills and ends the line of prophecy. There is still no decent history or demystification of the many-sided contest among these three followers--not one of them by any means a monolithic, unified camp--of the most jealous of all gods, even though the bloody modern convergence on Palestine furnishes a rich secular instance of what has been so tragically irreconcilable about them. Not surprisingly, then, Muslims and Christians speak readily of crusades and jihads, both of them eliding the Judaic presence with often sublime insouciance. Such an agenda, says Eqbal Ahmad, is "very reassuring to the men and women who are stranded in the middle of the ford, between the deep waters of tradition and modernity."

But we are all swimming in those waters, Westerners and Muslims and others alike. And since the waters are part of the ocean of history, trying to plow or divide them with barriers is futile. These are tense times, but it is better to think in terms of powerful and powerless communities, the secular politics of reason and ignorance, and universal principles of justice and injustice, than to wander off in search of vast abstractions that may give momentary satisfaction but little self-knowledge or informed analysis. "The Clash of Civilizations" thesis is a gimmick like "The War of the Worlds," better for reinforcing defensive self-pride than for critical understanding of the bewildering interdependence of our time.
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#327

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Preface to Orientalism

by EDWARD W. SAID

AL-AHRAM WEEKLY ONLINE (7 - 13 August 2003 (Issue No. 650))

The terrible conflicts that herd people under falsely unifying rubrics like "America", "The West" or "Islam" must be opposed, writes Edward Said

Nine years ago I wrote an afterword for Orientalism which, in trying to clarify what I believed I had and had not said, stressed not only the many discussions that had opened up since my book appeared in 1978, but the ways in which a work about representations of "the Orient" lent itself to increasing misinterpretation. That I find myself feeling more ironic than irritated about that very same thing today is a sign of how much age has crept up on me. The recent death of my two main intellectual, political and personal mentors, Eqbal Ahmad and Ibrahim Abu Lughod, has brought sadness and loss, as well as resignation and a certain stubborn will to go on.

In my memoir Out of Place (1999) I described the strange and contradictory worlds in which I grew up, providing for myself and my readers a detailed account of the settings that I think formed me in Palestine, Egypt and Lebanon. But that was a very personal account that stopped short of all the years of my own political engagement that started after the 1967 Arab-Israeli war.

Orientalism is very much a book tied to the tumultuous dynamics of contemporary history. Its first page opens with a 1975 description of the Lebanese Civil War that ended in 1990, but the violence and the ugly shedding of human blood continues up to this minute. We have had the failure of the Oslo peace process, the outbreak of the second Intifada, and the awful suffering of the Palestinians in the reinvaded West Bank and Gaza. The suicide bombing phenomenon has appeared with all its hideous damage, none more lurid and apocalyptic of course than the events of 11 September, 2001 and their aftermath in the wars against Afghanistan and Iraq. As I write these lines the illegal imperial occupation of Iraq by Britain and the United States proceeds. Its aftermath is truly awful to contemplate. This is all part of what is supposed to be a clash of civilisations, unending, implacable, irremediable. Nevertheless, I think not.

I wish I could say that general understanding of the Middle East, the Arabs and Islam in the United States has improved somewhat, but alas, it really hasn't. For all kinds of reasons the situation in Europe seems to be considerably better. In the US the hardening of attitudes, the tightening of the grip of demeaning generalisation and triumphalist cliché, the dominance of crude power allied with simplistic contempt for dissenters and "others" has found a fitting correlative in the looting and destruction of Iraq's libraries and museums. What our leaders and their intellectual lackeys seem incapable of understanding is that history cannot be swept clean like a blackboard, clean so that "we" might inscribe our own future there and impose our own forms of life for these lesser people to follow. It is quite common to hear high officials in Washington and elsewhere speak of changing the map of the Middle East, as if ancient societies and myriad peoples can be shaken up like so many peanuts in a jar. But this has often happened with the "Orient", that semi-mythical construct which since Napoleon's invasion of Egypt in the late 18th century has been made and re-made countless times. In the process the uncountable sediments of history, that include innumerable histories and a dizzying variety of peoples, languages, experiences, and cultures, all these are swept aside or ignored, relegated to the sand heap along with the treasures ground into meaningless fragments that were taken out of Baghdad.

My argument is that history is made by men and women, just as it can also be unmade and re-written, so that "our" East, "our" Orient becomes "ours" to possess and direct. And I have a very high regard for the powers and gifts of the peoples of that region to struggle on for their vision of what they are and want to be. There's been so massive and calculatedly aggressive an attack on the contemporary societies of the Arab and Muslim for their backwardness, lack of democracy, and abrogation of women's rights that we simply forget that such notions as modernity, enlightenment, and democracy are by no means simple and agreed-upon concepts that one either does or does not find, like Easter eggs in the living-room. The breathtaking insouciance of jejune publicists who speak in the name of foreign policy and who have no knowledge at all of the language real people speak has fabricated an arid landscape ready for American power to construct there an ersatz model of free market "democracy". You don't need Arabic or Persian or even French to pontificate about how the democracy domino effect is just what the Arab world needs.

But there is a difference between knowledge of other peoples and other times that is the result of understanding, compassion, careful study and analysis for their own sakes, and knowledge that is part of an overall campaign of self-affirmation. There is, after all, a profound difference between the will to understand for purposes of co-existence and enlargement of horizons, and the will to dominate for the purposes of control. It is surely one of the intellectual catastrophes of history that an imperialist war confected by a small group of unelected US officials was waged against a devastated Third World dictatorship on thoroughly ideological grounds having to do with world dominance, security control, and scarce resources, but disguised for its true intent, hastened, and reasoned for by Orientalists who betrayed their calling as scholars.

The major influences on George W Bush's Pentagon and National Security Council were men such as Bernard Lewis and Fouad Ajami, experts on the Arab and Islamic world who helped the American hawks to think about such preposterous phenomena as the Arab mind and centuries-old Islamic decline which only American power could reverse. Today bookstores in the US are filled with shabby screeds bearing screaming headlines about Islam and terror, Islam exposed, the Arab threat and the Muslim menace, all of them written by political polemicists pretending to knowledge imparted to them and others by experts who have supposedly penetrated to the heart of these strange Oriental peoples. Accompanying such war-mongering expertise have been CNN and Fox, plus myriad evangelical and right-wing radio hosts, innumerable tabloids and even middle-brow journals, all of them re-cycling the same unverifiable fictions and vast generalisations so as to stir up "America" against the foreign devil.

Without a well-organised sense that these people over there were not like "us" and didn't appreciate "our" values -- the very core of traditional Orientalist dogma -- there would have been no war. So from the very same directorate of paid professional scholars enlisted by the Dutch conquerors of Malaysia and Indonesia, the British armies of India, Mesopotamia, Egypt, West Africa, the French armies of Indochina and North Africa, came the American advisers to the Pentagon and the White House, using the same clichés, the same demeaning stereotypes, the same justifications for power and violence (after all, runs the chorus, power is the only language they understand) in this case as in the earlier ones. These people have now been joined in Iraq by a whole army of private contractors and eager entrepreneurs to whom shall be confided every thing, from the writing of textbooks and the constitution to the refashioning of Iraqi political life and its oil industry.

Every single empire, in its official discourse, has said that it is not like all the others, that its circumstances are special, that it has a mission to enlighten, civilise, bring order and democracy, and that it uses force only as a last resort. And, sadder still, there always is a chorus of willing intellectuals to say calming words about benign or altruistic empires.

Twenty-five years after my book's publication Orientalism once again raises the question of whether modern imperialism ever ended, or whether it has continued in the Orient since Napoleon's entry into Egypt two centuries ago. Arabs and Muslims have been told that victimology and dwelling on the depredations of empire is only a way of evading responsibility in the present. You have failed, you have gone wrong, says the modern Orientalist. This of course is also V S Naipaul's contribution to literature, that the victims of empire wail on while their country goes to the dogs. But what a shallow calculation of the imperial intrusion that is, how little it wishes to face the long succession of years through which empire continues to work its way in the lives, say, of Palestinians or Congolese or Algerians or Iraqis. Think of the line that starts with Napoleon, continues with the rise of Oriental studies and the takeover of North Africa, and goes on in similar undertakings in Vietnam, in Egypt, in Palestine and, during the entire 20th century in the struggle over oil and strategic control in the Gulf, in Iraq, Syria, Palestine, and Afghanistan. Then think of the rise of anti-colonial nationalism, through the short period of liberal independence, the era of military coups, of insurgency, civil war, religious fanaticism, irrational struggle and uncompromising brutality against the latest bunch of "natives". Each of these phases and eras produces its own distorted knowledge of the other, each its own reductive images, its own disputatious polemics.

My idea in Orientalism is to use humanistic critique to open up the fields of struggle, to introduce a longer sequence of thought and analysis to replace the short bursts of polemical, thought-stopping fury that so imprison us. I have called what I try to do "humanism", a word I continue to use stubbornly despite the scornful dismissal of the term by sophisticated post-modern critics. By humanism I mean first of all attempting to dissolve Blake's "mind-forg'd manacles" so as to be able to use one's mind historically and rationally for the purposes of reflective understanding. Moreover, humanism is sustained by a sense of community with other interpreters and other societies and periods: strictly speaking, therefore, there is no such thing as an isolated humanist.

This is to say that every domain is linked to every other one, and that nothing that goes on in our world has ever been isolated and pure of any outside influence. We need to speak about issues of injustice and suffering within a context that is amply situated in history, culture, and socio- economic reality. Our role is to widen the field of discussion. I have spent a great deal of my life during the past 35 years advocating the rights of the Palestinian people to national self- determination, but I have always tried to do that with full attention paid to the reality of the Jewish people and what they suffered by way of persecution and genocide. The paramount thing is that the struggle for equality in Palestine/Israel should be directed towards a humane goal, that is, co-existence, and not further suppression and denial. Not accidentally, I indicate that Orientalism and modern anti-Semitism have common roots. Therefore it would seem to be a vital necessity for independent intellectuals always to provide alternative models to the simplifying and confining ones based on mutual hostility that have prevailed in the Middle East and elsewhere for so long.

As a humanist whose field is literature I am old enough to have been trained 40 years ago in the field of comparative literature, the leading ideas of which go back to Germany in the late 18th and early 19th centuries. Before that I must mention the supremely creative contribution of Giambattista Vico, the Neopolitan philosopher and philologist whose ideas anticipate those of German thinkers such as Herder and Wolf, later to be followed by Goethe, Humboldt, Dilthey, Nietzsche, Gadamer, and finally the great 20th Century Romance philologists Erich Auerbach, Leo Spitzer, and Ernst Robert Curtius.

To young people of the current generation the very idea of philology suggests something impossibly antiquarian and musty though philology, in fact, is the most basic and creative of the interpretive arts. It is exemplified for me most admirably in Goethe's interest in Islam generally, and Hafiz in particular, a consuming passion which led to the composition of the West-…stlicher Diwan, and it inflected Goethe's later ideas about Weltliteratur, the study of all the literatures of the world as a symphonic whole that could be apprehended theoretically as having preserved the individuality of each work without losing sight of the whole.

There is a considerable irony to the realisation then that as today's globalised world draws together in some of the ways I have been talking about here, we may be approaching the kind of standardisation and homogeneity that Goethe's ideas were specifically formulated to prevent. In an essay he published in 1951 entitled Philologie der Weltliteratur Erich Auerbach made exactly that point at the outset of the postwar period, which was also the beginning of the Cold War. His great book Mimesis, published in Berne in 1946 but written while Auerbach was a wartime exile teaching Romance languages in Istanbul, was meant to be a testament to the diversity and concreteness of the reality represented in Western literature from Homer to Virginia Woolf; but reading the 1951 essay one senses that for Auerbach the great book he wrote was an elegy for a period when people could interpret texts philologically, concretely, sensitively, and intuitively, using erudition and an excellent command of several languages to support the kind of understanding that Goethe advocated for his understanding of Islamic literature.

Positive knowledge of languages and history was necessary, but it was never enough, any more than the mechanical gathering of facts would constitute an adequate method for grasping what an author like Dante, for example, was all about. The main requirement for the kind of philological understanding Auerbach and his predecessors were talking about and tried to practise was one that sympathetically and subjectively entered into the life of a written text as seen from the perspective of its time and its author (einfühlung). Rather than alienation and hostility to another time and a different culture, philology as applied to Weltliteratur involved a profound humanistic spirit deployed with generosity and, if I may use the word, hospitality. Thus the interpreter's mind actively makes a place in it for a foreign Other. And this creative making of a place for works that are otherwise alien and distant is the most important facet of the interpreter's mission.

All this was obviously undermined and destroyed in Germany by National Socialism. After the war, Auerbach notes mournfully, the standardisation of ideas, and greater and greater specialisation of knowledge gradually narrowed the opportunities for the kind of investigative and everlastingly enquiring kind of philological work that he had represented, and, alas, it's an even more depressing fact that since Auerbach's death in 1957 both the idea and practice of humanistic research have shrunk in scope as well as in centrality. Instead of reading in the real sense of the word, our students today are often distracted by the fragmented knowledge available on the Internet and in the mass media.

Worse yet, education is threatened by nationalist and religious orthodoxies, often disseminated by the mass media as they focus ahistorically and sensationally on the distant electronic wars that give viewers the sense of surgical precision, but in fact obscure the terrible suffering and destruction produced by modern warfare. In the demonisation of an unknown enemy for whom the label "terrorist" serves the general purpose of keeping people stirred up and angry, media images command too much attention and can be exploited at times of crisis and insecurity of the kind that the post-9/11 period has produced.

Speaking both as an American and as an Arab I must ask my reader not to underestimate the kind of simplified view of the world that a relative handful of Pentagon civilian elites have formulated for US policy in the entire Arab and Islamic worlds, a view in which terror, pre-emptive war, and unilateral regime change -- backed up by the most bloated military budget in history -- are the main ideas debated endlessly and impoverishingly by a media that assigns itself the role of producing so-called "experts" who validate the government's general line. Reflection, debate, rational argument, moral principle based on a secular notion that human beings must create their own history have been replaced by abstract ideas that celebrate American or Western exceptionalism, denigrate the relevance of context, and regard other cultures with contempt.

Perhaps you will say that I am making too many abrupt transitions between humanistic interpretation on the one hand and foreign policy on the other, and that a modern technological society which along with unprecedented power possesses the Internet and F-16 fighter-jets must in the end be commanded by formidable technical-policy experts like Donald Rumsfeld and Richard Perle. But what has really been lost is a sense of the density and interdependence of human life, which can neither be reduced to a formula nor brushed aside as irrelevant.

That is one side of the global debate. In the Arab and Muslim countries the situation is scarcely better. As Roula Khalaf has argued, the region has slipped into an easy anti-Americanism that shows little understanding of what the US is really like as a society. Because the governments are relatively powerless to affect US policy towards them, they turn their energies to repressing and keeping down their own populations, with results in resentment, anger and helpless imprecations that do nothing to open up societies where secular ideas about human history and development have been overtaken by failure and frustration, as well as by an Islamism built out of rote learning and the obliteration of what are perceived to be other, competitive forms of secular knowledge. The gradual disappearance of the extraordinary tradition of Islamic ijtihad or personal interpretation has been one of the major cultural disasters of our time, with the result that critical thinking and individual wrestling with the problems of the modern world have all but disappeared.

This is not to say that the cultural world has simply regressed on one side to a belligerent neo-Orientalism and on the other to blanket rejectionism. Last year's United Nations World Summit in Johannesburg, for all its limitations, did in fact reveal a vast area of common global concern that suggests the welcome emergence of a new collective constituency that gives the often facile notion of "one world" a new urgency. In all this, however, we must admit that no one can possibly know the extraordinarily complex unity of our globalised world, despite the reality that the world does have a real interdependence of parts that leaves no genuine opportunity for isolation.

The terrible conflicts that herd people under falsely unifying rubrics like "America", "The West" or "Islam" and invent collective identities for large numbers of individuals who are actually quite diverse, cannot remain as potent as they are, and must be opposed. We still have at our disposal the rational interpretive skills that are the legacy of humanistic education, not as a sentimental piety enjoining us to return to traditional values or the classics but as the active practice of worldly secular rational discourse. The secular world is the world of history as made by human beings. Critical thought does not submit to commands to join in the ranks marching against one or another approved enemy. Rather than the manufactured clash of civilisations, we need to concentrate on the slow working together of cultures that overlap, borrow from each other, and live together in far more interesting ways than any abridged or inauthentic mode of understanding can allow. But for that kind of wider perception we need time, patient and sceptical enquiry, supported by faith in communities of interpretation that are difficult to sustain in a world demanding instant action and reaction.

Humanism is centred upon the agency of human individuality and subjective intuition, rather than on received ideas and approved authority. Texts have to be read as texts that were produced and live on in the historical realm in all sorts of what I have called worldly ways. But this by no means excludes power, since on the contrary I have tried to show the insinuations, the imbrications of power into even the most recondite of studies.

And lastly, most important, humanism is the only -- I would go so far as saying the final -- resistance we have against the inhuman practices and injustices that disfigure human history. We are today abetted by the enormously encouraging democratic field of cyberspace, open to all users in ways undreamt of by earlier generations of either tyrants or of orthodoxies. The world-wide protests before the war began in Iraq would not have been possible were it not for the existence of alternative communities all across the world, informed by alternative information, and keenly aware of the environmental, human rights and libertarian impulses that bind us together in this klix planet.
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#328

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21st Century: Democracy or Absolutism
(a lecture delivered at the University of Illinois at Chicago on October 17, 1994)

by NOAM CHOMSKY

There's a familiar story about the new era that we're entering and the promise that it holds. In brief, to borrow some of the appropriate imagery, the good guys won the shoot-out and they're firmly in the saddle riding off into the sunset. There's some rough terrain ahead but nothing that they can't handle as they lead the way to a bright future, which is going to be based on the ideals that they have always cherished like human rights, democracy, and free markets. A future which in which what we say goes, as George Bush defined the New World Order to great acclaim, great acclaim in the west that is, but the vast majority of the population of the world had a somewhat different reaction, but that was unreported except at the usual margins.

Well, I'm going to skip representative quotes to illustrate the picture. You've all seen enough of it. Actually the quotes are kind of interesting but time is short and I have a very authoritarian manager tonight. So I'll skip that and we'll also skip the typical vulgarities and the blithe disregard for historical and contemporary reality that goes along with it. Now I don't want to suggest that everybody is just telling fairy tales and lies. There are some who tell the truth and sometimes they do it in interesting ways. With regards to take, say, democracy, the United States as you all know is deeply committed to a campaign to bring democracy to the benighted people of Latin America over the hemisphere in the 1980s and there was actually some interesting commentary on that, scholarly commentary, including some of the best of which is a book and several articles by a man who actually has an insiders perspective. His name is Thomas Carruthers who was in the Reagan State Department in the 1980s involved in the Democracy Enhancement Programs as they were called and has written very interestingly about them. He regards these programs as sincere but a failure, although a very systematic failure as he points out, and he's honest enough to point out the systematic character of the failure is this: Where US influence was the least there you found the most progress towards democracy. So, in the southern cone of the hemisphere there was progress toward democracy. People overthrew vicious, brutal, neo-nazi dictatorships that had been established by or with the support of the United Sates and maintained by the U.S. but they were overthrown. The Reagan Administration resisted bitterly the attempt to overthrow its favored dictators but when that proved hopeless and the move toward democracy was irreversible they then took credit for it. That was -- there was a success of democracy. When you got closer to home as Carruthers pointed and our influence was greater, the progress toward democracy was least and, in fact, as he put it where the U.S. had influence it sought only limited, top down forms of democracy that did not risk upsetting the traditional structures of power with which the United States had long been allied. It maintained the basic order of quite undemocratic societies avoiding populist-based change that might upset the established economic and political order and open a leftist direction.

That's how we enhance democracy where we have some influence. So there was a kind of failure, more or less the same sort of failure of the Soviet Union to achieve freedom and democracy in Eastern Europe despite its deeply committed effort. You can get a better picture of the nature of the failure, and the kinds of democracies we try to impose, by actually looking at particular cases. There isn't a lot of time so I'll just take some easy ones. Take in the area most under our control, Central America, traditionally. There's one country that was uniquely favored in the 1980s, namely Honduras. It's the only country in the region that wasn't under direct, physical attack by the United States or by its proxy forces and was also uniquely favored in that it actually received quite a lot of assistance as it became a base for U.S. attack against the rest of the region. So it was in a particularly good position for the Democracy Enhancement Programs and indeed there was what was called a decade of democracy in Honduras. As the Cold War came to an end and the Berlin Wall fell in November 1989 Honduras had elections, its third elections. There were two candidates so it was a real election. One represented large land owners. The other represented wealthy industrialists. There were no differences in their programs that anybody could detect including them. There was no campaign, just insults and entertainment and so on. Neither of them challenged the Military who are the effective rulers under U.S. control. There's a regular level of human rights abuses by the security forces and it escalated before the election just to keep peoples minds focused properly. But it never reached the level of, say, El Salvador and Guatemala where it was just like mass murder and genocide. The starvation and misery were rampant throughout the country. They had increased extensively during the decade of democracy from quite a low level in the first place thanks to those neo-liberal programs, agri-export programs, that were pushed by U.S. aid and U.S. advisers and unprecedented U.S. aid which led to an unprecedented human disaster as everyone can see it's on all sides. While starvation and misery were increasing so were other things like capital flight, increasing very fast, profits for foreign investors and the debt burden. That was the decade of democracy. So, therefore, the elections that were held in November 1989 were an inspiring example of the democratic process that today is spreading throughout the Americas as George Bush declared, no less inspiring than the elections in El Salvador in 1982 and 1984 when the opposition leaders were safely murdered and civil society was demolished by US run terrorists called security forces so therefore the press could speak of the encouraging progress toward democracy. Or, for example, the election in Panama in 1984 that was won by general Noriega with considerable violence and obvious fraud and was hailed by the Reagan administration even before the fraudulent numbers were invented. The Reagan Administration recognized Noriega¹s candidate and sent George Schmaltz down there to laud Noriega for another inspiring achievement at democracy. Remember he was our man at that time. That was before he stopped following orders and became a bad guy who had to be destroyed. Honduras was another case. The next most privileged country in Central America after Honduras was Nicaragua. Nicaragua was under attack from a terrorist superpower but it was unique -- I'm putting Costa Rica aside -- it was the only country of the region in which the security forces were not dedicated to attacking the domestic population. Rather they were defending the population from a terrorist attack organized from abroad. So it too was uniquely privileged in a way and it had an election in 1984, highly regarded outside the United States and by the professional Association of Latin American Scholars in the United States, but out of history because it couldn't be controlled by the United States and therefore it didn't take place. Also out of history is the fact that there was another election scheduled for 1990. You're not allowed to say that because the official story is that the 1990 election was held only because of US pressure. Therefore the fact that it was always scheduled is also out of history. But indeed there was a 1990 election which is allowed into history in part. If you look at it tells you a lot about the United States and about the elite culture and about the conception that is held. It fills out even more of the story that Carruthers describes rather coolly. As the Berlin Wall fell and Honduras went through this inspiring example of democracy there was an announcement from the White House to the Nicaraguans that they had a choice. They could vote for the US candidate or they would be subjected to continuing terror and embargo. They had a free choice. We believe in freedom. So they had that choice and they were told that in very clear terms. It's not that the Democrats disagreed. The Congress was run by the Democrats. Congress immediately passed in volition of the plea of the Central American Presidents military aid to the terrorist forces attacking Nicaragua. Here that was called humanitarian aid but the world court had already ruled on that fact and had declared that it is not humanitarian aid, that it cannot be considered humanitarian aid, that it's military aid. But, again, that's the wrong fact so therefore that one is out of history too. Accordingly a mere hundred percent of commentary described it as humanitarian aid. The United Nations once again in vain condemned the US dispatch of military aid to the terrorist forces. It wasn't a hundred percent. The United States and Israel voted against it and that one is out of history. In fact it wasn't reported. In Nicaragua they understood. Outside of places where people have a good education like here it was well understood what was going on. So they had a choice. They voted the right way. They voted for the US candidate. The reaction here was extremely interesting. In fact in Latin America, south of the border, where the press is mostly pretty conservative to reactionary, they applauded the victory. They nevertheless called it a victory for George Bush. Here they called it a victory for freedom. Not just that. There was complete euphoria. Headlines on the New York Times were "Victory for U.S. Fair Play. Americans United in Joy" kind of like North Korea or Albania or something like that. Way at the critical end you had people like Anthony Lewis. He was just exultant about what he called "this romantic age." "We live in a romantic age," he said, where the Jeffersonian ideal of government by consent of the governed is spreading everywhere. Incidentally the methods by which the great victory for Jeffersonian Democracy was achieved were not concealed.

In fact they were described with some clarity. Here's Time Magazine rejoicing over what it called "the latest of the happy series of democratic surprises" as democracy burst forth in Nicaragua. Then they described the victory for US fair play as follows. The method was to wreck the economy and prosecute a long and deadly proxy war until the exhausted natives overthrow the unwanted government themselves with a cost to us that is minimal leaving the victim with wrecked bridges, sabotaged power stations and ruined farms providing Washington's candidate with a winning issue ending the impoverishment of the people of Nicaragua. So that's Jeffersonian Democracy in our romantic age and a victory for US fair play. All of that reveals with quite extraordinary clarity that democracy is not just disliked in the elite culture but it is hated with utter contempt. It's hard to exaggerate the contempt but it's made very clear by these examples. Let me finish running through these with Honduras, again the uniquely privileged country. In November 1993, last year, they had another election. It was the fourth one since 1980 so the decade of democracy is really established. They voted against the neo-liberal structural adjustment programs and what¹s called the economic miracle that they're bringing. They voted strongly against it. But, no problem, as was widely recognized that gesture was completely empty. The rich and the powerful will permit nothing else so the programs go on anyways. To borrow a phrase from the London Economist a policy is insulated from politics. In other words policy goes on in one way and those guys can play around with votes in another way if they feel like it. They happened to be talking about Poland and they were telling foreign investors, "don't worry about the fact that they're voting against the programs you guys like. Policy is insulated from politics now that we've brought democracy to Poland." Well democracy was brought to Honduras too so however the population votes the neo-liberal policies that have brought misery and destruction and the economic miracle as this is called technically will go on. Well, I don't think it was ever reported here, at least I didn't see any report, and my local consultant from Chicago didn't send me any reports from Chicago. It was reported south of the border. Mexico's leading newspaper Excelsior pointed out that "the voters have no real options for improving their living standards which worsen every day." Remember they're familiar with economic miracles from their own country. Continuing, "Three quarters of those who went to the polls live in misery and are disenchanted with formal democracy. The purchasing power of Hondurans is lower than in the 1970's. The rule of the generals is more firmly established." There are other beneficiaries of the economic miracle as well. The Honduran College of Economists pointed out "A group of privileged exporters and local investors make the financial capital and multinational corporations have multiplied their capital in a country where growing economic polarization is generating ever more evident contrasts between the rich who do not hide the ostentation of their moral misery, and the ever more miserable poor." So that's the decade of democracy now we've had four elections. They also point out that at least one out of every two dollars that goes to Honduras comes right back to pay the interest on the foreign debt which is rowing. Even though twenty percent of the debt was forgiven it's increased by ten percent since 1990 alone. It now represents about forty percent of exports. Well that is the most favored country we run, to which we've brought democracy.

Just a couple of weeks ago there was an election in Guatemala. That's on we've been taking care of for a long, long time so you can really see our values at work. It was going to be a showcase for democracy when we invaded it and overthrew the democratic government in 1954. They had an election a couple of weeks ago. The person who won the election was Rios Mott who is someone that would have gotten along quite well with Himmler and Goebels. He's the biggest killer in the recent history of Guatemala. He killed tens of thousands of people before he was overthrown in another military coup. He was a man who was totally dedicated to democracy as President Reagan said in a speech when Rios Mott was busy slaughtering people in the highlands. He just won the election. Less than twenty percent of the population bothered to vote. Mostly rich white people. Rios Mott got a third of the votes, about seven percent of the electorate, but that puts him in power so we have another victory for democracy. We've just seen the same thing in Haiti if we open our eyes.

Meanwhile the US has been fostering other values besides democracy in the regions which it really controls. One value that it has been sponsoring is torture. As has been shown repeatedly US foreign aid is very closely correlated with torture. The leading specialist on human rights in Latin America, Lars Schmaltz, did a study on this published around 1980 in which he pointed out that the correlation is quite close. US foreign aid that flows into Latin America flows to the most egregious violators of fundamental human rights, to countries that torture their citizens. That's also true on a world scale as shown in other studies, including by my colleague Edward Herman. That was in 1980, running through the Carter years. Nobody's bothered to do a study in the last ten or fifteen years because it's too trivial. The correlation just went through the roof.

To take a current case the biggest human rights violator in the hemisphere now is Columbia. Its record is absolutely atrocious. It's also the leading recipient of US aid. About fifty percent of US military aid to the hemisphere goes to Columbia, to the security forces that are carrying out the atrocities. So the correlation is maintained.

Another value we've been sponsoring in Latin America is starvation, misery, death from disease and radical inequality. It's the region that has the highest inequality in the world. The World Bank in fact recently warned that the inequality is so great that there is a crisis coming. You can read about that in the business press but what you don't read about is the causes. It's not in their genes. This is the result to a large extent of social policy and in fact you can trace it. We're a free society so you can et documentary records. In 1945, when the United States was organizing the world it was able to take over Latin America kicking out its traditional rivals Britain and France, there was a meeting which was going to establish what was called an economic charter for the hemisphere. It was designed for economic growth in the hemisphere. There were two positions. As the State Department put it throughout Latin America there was what was called the philosophy of new nationalism, sometimes called economic nationalism. It was based on the principle that development ought to be egalitarian and to the benefit of the general population. As they put it "the prime beneficiaries of a country's resources should be its own population and development should be concerned with their interests and should be egalitarian." Now the US was strongly opposed to this. It's position was that economic nationalism in any form must be blocked, that the prime beneficiaries of a country's resources are not the people of that country rather it's foreign investors meaning US investors and there was to be none of this economic nationalism. In fact the US insisted that the development of Latin America countries be complimentary to the United States. So, we'll do what we're good at and they'll do what their good at and what they're good at is giving us resources and cheap labor and maybe doing some simple operations that we don't want to waste our time on. That's the way it works. The US was powerful enough to establish those principles and the result that you get is what you see today. Well, those are other values that we've sponsored in the areas of our control in addition to democracy.
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Orhanowski
Posts: 1132
Joined: 29/08/2006 22:20

#329

Post by Orhanowski »

Walt Whitman


Pjesma o samom sebi (prijevod: Tin Ujevic)


l



Ja svetkujem samoga sebe i pjevam samoga sebe,

a što ja sebi dopuštam, morate i vi sebi dopustiti,

jer svaki atom koji pripada meni, pripada također i tebi.

Ja plandujem i pozivam svoju dušu u goste.

Ja ležim i lagodno traćim vrijeme opažajući vlat ljetne trave.

Moj jezik, svaki atom moje krvi, stvoren je od ovoga tla,

ovoga zraka,

rođen sam ovdje od roditelja rođenih ovdje od roditelja isto

tako, a i njihovi roditelji isto tako;

ja sada, u mladosti od trideset i sedam godina, u potpunome

zdravlju počinjem u nadi, da neću prestati do smrti.

Vjeroispovijesti i škole još neodlučne povuku se učas,

ocijenjene na svoju pravu cijenu, ali se nikada ne zaboravljaju.

Primam u goste dobro i zlo; ja dopuštam da govori uz

ma kakvu pogibelj priroda bez smetnje s izvornom,

iskonskom energijom.



2



Kuće i sobe su pune miomirisa, police su ispunjene mirisima,

ja sam udišem taj mirluh i poznajem ga i volim ga,

isparivanje bi me moglo također opiti, ali ja to ne dopuštam,

toga se čuvam.

Atmosfera nije miomiris, nema ukus ishlapljivanja, ona ne

govori njuhu,

ona je za moja usta zanavijek; ja sam u nju zaljubljen.

Poći ću na hum uz šumu, svući se potpuno go,

ludujem za tim da dođem s njome u dodir.

Dim mojega vlastitoga disanja, jeke, žubori, zujav šapat,

ljubavni korijen, svileni konac, čvor stabla, loza, moje

disanje i udisanje, kucanje mojega srca, prelaženje

krvi i zraka kroz moja pluća,

vonj zelenoga lišća i žutoga lišća, i obale i tamnih morskih

hridi, i sijena u staji,

zvuk izušćenih riječi koje je moj glas predao vrtlozima

vjetra, nekoliko laganih cjelova, malo zagrljaja,

dohvatanje u naručaj,

igra sunca i sjene na stablima, dok se gipke grančice tresu,

naslada samoće ili naslada gužve ulica ili uzduž polja i

pristranaka brda,

osjećaj zdravlja, ćurlik u puno podne, pjesma mene koji

se ustajem s kreveta i sačekujem sunce.

Jesi li smatrao da je 500 akra mnogo? Jesi li zemlju

smatrao prevelikom?

Jesi li se tako dugo mučio da se naučiš čitati?

Jesi li se tako uznio što prodireš u smisao pjesama?

Ostani danas i noćas kod mene i ti ćeš posjedovati porijeklo

svih pjesama, posjedovat ćeš dobro zemlje i sunca

(milijuni drugih sunaca još preostaju),

odsada nećeš uzimati stvari iz druge ili iz treće ruke, niti

ćeš gledati kroz oči mrtvaca, niti ćeš se hraniti utvarama

iz knjiga, ni na moje oči ne smiješ gledati, niti uzimati

stvari od mene, ti moraš osluškivati na sve strane i bistriti

ih iz sebe sama.



3



Slušao sam što su govorljivci pričali, pričanja o iskonu

i o kraju,

ali ja ne govorim ni o iskonu ni o kraju.

Nikada nije bilo početka ništa više nego sada,

nikada više mladosti ni starosti ništa više nego sada,

i nikada neće savršenstva biti ništa više nego sada,

ni neba i pakla ništa više nego sada.

Nagon, nagon i nagon, uvijek porodilački nagon svijeta.

Iz tame izbijaju suprotni parnjaci, uvijek tvar i raštenje,

uvijek spol, uvijek čvor istovetnosti, uvijek razlikovanje,

uvijek leglo života.



Istančavanje ne služi ničemu; učeni i neuki osjećaju tu istinu.

Sigurni kao najočevidnija izvjesnost, okomiti kao dobro

raščlanjeni stupovi sapeti u gredama, žilavi kao konj,

usudno, oholo, električni

ja i ovo tajanstvo, evo nas.

Jasna i slatka je moja duša, a jasno i slatko je sve što nije moja duša.

Nedostaje li jedna, nedostaje oboje; a nevidljivo se doka­zuje vidljivim,

dok i ovo ne postane nevidljivo, te i samo ne potrebuje dokaza.

Pokazati najbolje i razlučiti ga od najgorega, to je muka

vijeka za vijekom no kako ja poznajem

savršenu pri­kladnost i ravnodušnost stvari,

ja šutim dok oni rasprav­ljaju, idem na kupanje i divini se samom sebi.

Dobro došao svaki moj organ i svaka osobina moja,

i svako­ga srdačnoga i čistoga čovjeka,

ni palac, ni djelić palca nije prost, i nijedan ne smije biti

manje pouzdan nego drugi.

Ja sam zadovoljan – ja vidim, plešem, smijem se, pjevam;

dok milovana i ljubavna supruga noću spava uz moj bok

i izlazi pri polomu dana kradimičnim korakom,

ostavljajući mi košare pokrivene bijelim stolnjacima te

kite kuću svojom punoćom,

hoću li ja preuzeti svoju privolu i ostvarenje i objaviti

ne­godovanje pogledom,

da se oči odvrnu od piljenja za njom i niz ulicu?

i odmah sračunati i sebi predstaviti do jedne pare

tačno vrijednost jednoga i tačno vrijednost dvojega i koji je vredniji?



4



Podmetaoci noge i pitaoci okružuju me, ljudi koje susrećem,

utjecaj mojega ranijega života ili četvrti i grada u kojem

živim, ili naroda,

najnovija vremena, otkrića, pronalasci, društva, stari i novi pisci,

moj objed, odijelo, sudrugovi, pogledi, laskanja, obaveze,

stvarna ili prividna ravnodušnost nekoga čovjeka ili žene

koju ljubim,

bolest jednoga od mojih rođaka ili moja;

nedaće ili gubitak ili nedostatak novca, potištenost ili

zanesenost, bitke, užasi bratoubilačkog rata, groznice sumnjivih vijesti,

promjenjivi događaji,

sve to dolazi k meni danima i noćima i opet odlazi od mene,

ali sve to nije moje pravo Ja.

Postrance od potezanja i vučenja stoji ono što ja jesam,

stoji i uživa, dopadno, samilosno, dokono, jedinstveno,

pogleda dolje, uspravlja se ili savija ruku na neopipan,

izvjestan naslon,

gleda s glavom pognutom na stranu, što će na to doći,

kao da sudjeluje i ne sudjeluje u stvarima, te motri i čudi se.

Vidim natrag one dane kada sam se znojio kroz maglu s

jezičarima i svadljivcima,

nemam poruga ni razloga za raspravu, ja gledam kao svjedok

i čekam.



5



Ja vjerujem u te, moja dušo. Ono drugo, što ja jesam inače,

ne smije se ponižavati pred tobom,

a ti se ne smiješ ponižavati pred tim drugim.

Zavali se sa mnom na travu, podigni poklopac svojega grla,

ne trebam riječi ni muzike ni sroka, ni konvencije ni pre­davanja,

pa čak ni najboljega,

ja volim samo uspavanku, zujanja tvojih glasnica.

Sjećam se kako smo jednom ležali na takvo prozirno ljetno jutro,

kako si ti položila svoju glavu preko mojih bedara

i nježno se okrenula nada me,

i otvorila košulju na mojoj grudnoj kosti i zagnjurila jezik

u moje obnaženo srce, i stigla sve dotle dok nisi napipala moju bradu,

i stigla sve dotle dok nisi uhvatila moje noge.

Brzo se podigao i rasprostro oko mene mir i spoznaja što

prenaša sve dokaze zemlje, i ja znam da je ruka božja jamstvo za moju,

i ja znam da je duh božji brat mojega,

i da su svi ikada rođeni ljudi također moja braća, a žene

moje sestre i ljubavnice,

i da je pasmo[10] broda u stvorenom svijetu ljubav,

i da bezbrojno lišće leži kruto ili uvelo na poljima,

i smeđi mravi u malim rupama ispod njega,

i mahovinaste gube crvotočne ograde, nagomilano kamenje,

zova, divizma i vinoboji.



6



Jedno dijete reče: "Šta je to trava?", donoseći mi je u

punim rukama; kako sam mogao odgovoriti djetetu? Ja to ne znam ništa

više od njega.

Ja slutim da to mora biti zastava mojega srca, istkana od zelenila nade,

jer je slutim da je to rubac Gospodnji.

Mirisav dar ili spomen namjerno spušten

koji negdje u uglovima nosi ime vlasnika,

da ga mi vidimo, opazimo i reknemo: "čiji?"

Ili ja slutim da je trava samo dijete, porođeno djetence

raslinstva. Ili ja slutim da je ona jednoličan hijeroglif, a znači: "Ja

ničem tako i u širokim i u uskim pojasima,

rastem među crncima kao i među bijelcima,

Kanuck, Tuckahoe, član kongresa, bokser, ja ih podjednako

darivam, ja ih podjednako primam."

A sada mi se čini: to je lijepa neošišana kosa grobova.

Ja ću te nježno dirati, kovrčava travo,

možda ti poničeš iz grudi mladića,

možda bi njih volio da sam ih poznavao,

možda je od staraca ili od dojenčadi rano otete iz zagrljaja majki,

te si ti ovdje majčin naručaj.

Ova je trava pretamna da bude od bijelih glava starih majki,

tamnija od bezbojnih staračkih brada,

tamna kao da dolazi ispod blijedocrvenoga nepca.

O na kraju opažam toliko rječitih jezika i vidim da ne

dolaze uzalud od nepca usta!

O da bih mogao razjasniti naznake o mrtvim mladićima i

ženama, i naznake o starcima i majkama i dojenčadi istrgnutoj iz

njinoga skuta.

Šta misliš, šta se dogodilo od mladića i staraca?

i šta misliš, šta se dogodilo od žena i djece?



Oni negdje žive i zdravo se osjećaju,

najmanja travka dokazuje da u zbilji nema smrti;

a kada bi je i bilo, ona vodi naprijed život, a ne stoji na

kraju da ga zaustavi,

te prestaje u času kada se život javi.

Sve ide dalje i vani, ništa se ne gubi,

a umrijeti je nešto drugo nego je čovjek mislio, i to sretnije.



7



Je li neko smatrao da je sretno roditi se?

Žurno obavješćujem njega ili nju da je isto tako sretno umrijeti,

i ja to vidim.

Prelazim preko smrti, umirućim i preko poroda s tek

opra­nim đojenčetom, i nisam sadržan između mojega šešira i čizama,

i ispitujem mnogostruke predmete, ni dva nisu ista, a svaki je dobar;

zemlja dobra i zvijezde dobre, a dobro i sve, što k njima spada.

Nisam zemlja ni dodatak zemlji,

ja sam drug i sudrug ljudi, svi su besmrtni i nedokučivi kao i Ja

(oni ne znaju, kako besmrtni ali ja znam).

Svaka vrst postoji za se i pripada sebi; za me moja: muško i žensko,

za me oni koji su bili dječarci i žene,

za me čovjek koji ima ponosa i osjeća kako boli biti odbijen,

za me vjerenice i usidjelice, za me majke i majke majki,

za me usne koje su se smiješile, oči koje su suze ronile,

za me djeca i porodioci djece.

Svuci se! U mojim očima niste krivi ni ishlapjeli ni otrcani,

ja vidim kroz crno sukno i pamučninu, bilo vam pravo ili ne,

i ja zavirkujem izdržljiv, radoznao, neumoran i ne dam se otjerati.


Ovo je samo dio, ima toga jos puno, pa ako neko izrazi zelju, a nadam se da hoce, nece mi biti mrsko da kopiram :-) :)
pesak
Posts: 4343
Joined: 22/08/2005 20:58
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#330

Post by pesak »

Pa jel ima neko negde da okaci fotografije tog Strasnog ?
pesak
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#331 Ruzenje Hrista

Post by pesak »

"Zavetna misao" bez misli

Nigde nema rama neke normalne države; ni države ni društva koje bi bilo spremno na suočenja sa demonima prošlosti

Od kulture do dnevnopolitičke scene sve je u znaku "zavetne misli" i malo ko uopšte nešto da kaže šta je to. Onaj ko se ipak usudi da zaviri u neki ozbiljniji izvor sume ideja brzo će naići na M. Baresa i njegove filozofeme o primatu "nacionalnog instinkta" i o tome da napredak nacije zavisi od toga da li ćemo "noge naše dobro stavljati u stope predaka". No razočaranje nas čeka na prvom koraku - talentovani francuski pisac "nadahnutih bregova i kulta mrtvih" i sve to od njega završilo je - sa Š. Morasom pod nemačkom okupacijom - u fašizmu. Danas se to ocenjuje jednostavno kao poraz misli i gašenje svetiljki normalnog ljudskog razuma. Neće bolje proći ni onaj ko se upusti u čitanje knjige akademika i poznatog filozofa M. Đurića O potrebi filozofije danas - filozofija između Istoka i Zapada. Sve same rogobatne floskule iz Justina Popovića o jednom narodu - to je naš narod srpski - koji se sav "ologosio". Zvuči neverovatno ali umesto misli imamo ritualno "klicanje predaka". Svi potežu Carev zavet Nikolajev i sve im je jasno, samo nikako da bude jasno kakva je to misao da je "država propala - daleke 1389. - zato što je ostarila". Nadalje je ovaj bezdarni eklektik još precizniji i mi moramo biti pod jarmom tuđina "onoliko vekova koliko je stari Izrailj bio pod faraonima". Ima tu i nečeg jasnog - zavetna misao je u tome da se ne misli uopšte. I od televizijskih ekrana do debelih sveski književnih glasila slika je iz dana u dan sve sumornija. Neki veseli ministar - ministar prosvete S. Vuksanović - sasvim mirno podnosi izveštaj precima - "Čak i da niko ne zna šta sam uradio, zna sveti Sava, a meni je to dovoljno i najvažnije". U bukvaru iz kojeg Srpčad stiče znanje lepo piše - "Ko ne ide u Crkvu neka ide kod doktora, možda mu roditelji nisu zdravi". I to je misao. Sve češće - na televizijskim ekranima ali i na stranicama debelih knjiga - promakne neki božji stvor i govori besmislice kakvih do sada bilo nije. Da su to samo kaluđerska zanovetanja ne bi bilo teško shvatiti - akademici pod sedim kosama i ugledni pisci sasvim ozbiljno govore o nekakvim "trojeručicama" i o tome kako polutruli ostaci ljudskih tela mogu biti miomirisni i "mirotočivi". Niko nikada nije dokazao mogućnost treće ruke na osakaćenom ljudskom telu niti je uživao u mirisu leša koji se razlaže - ne, akademici mirno govore o tome ne kao o legendi ili metafori već kao o nečem realnom.
Deluje neobično ali sve se to zbiva 2007. koja je zvanično proglašena Dositejevom godinom.
Sve se to odvija javno i uz blagoslov hrišćanske Crkve i sve je to ruganje Hristu i njegovoj neprolaznoj poruci svetu i čoveku. I ne zna se ko više - da li laici ili kaluđeri - prodaje Hrista na palanačkom vašaru političke taštine. Zaboravljene mantre iz dalekih vremena i vradžbine uz čaranja i gatanje nude se kao "zavetna misao" i unisono - od parlamenta do kulturnih rubrika poznatih dnevnika - traje to klicanje predaka i dozivanje prošlosti. Najčudnije je to što sve to, reklo bi se, nikom ne smeta iako u savremenoj hrišćanskoj Crkvi ni govora nema o nečem sličnom. Svi govore o čudima a čuda nema ali vreme čuđenja nadajmo se ipak se približava. Uz čuđenja idu iskušenja. Smestili su Srbiju ovi sledbenici "zavetne misli" pod zvonik seoskog tornja i odredili su joj palanačko-parohijalne crte večnog horizonta. I to se pravda takvom "misli" od koje trnu i gasnu one poslednje svetiljke normalne ljudske pameti. One svetiljke koje su ipak gorele u srpskoj kulturi vekovima od sv. Save do Dositeja.
A u godini Dositejevoj tog se mislioca malo ko seća - sve što je za njim pošlo "izabralo je put tame i zapadnih zabluda".
Od sabornosti su načinili ideološko-politički ram za novo jednoumlje a famozna duhovnost je neki balističko-artiljerijski termin onih koji ne odustaju od slogana da je rat bolji od mira. Slike i prilike su sve sumornije, i mogle bi se nizati u beskonačnost ali nigde nema rama neke normalne države; ni države ni društva koje bi bilo spremno na suočenja sa demonima prošlosti. Ipak je malo država koje su u jednoj deceniji izgubile zaredom četiri rata - da bi na kraju razorile i sebe. A najtužnije je to što o tome ćuti naša Crkva koja je pozvana da se upravo na to oglasi. Možda je - ako je verovati Nikolaju - i ona ostarila i već nemoćna da čita nove znake vremena i da javi novu misao i novi čin i to onako - to su reči Hristove - "svijetu da vam poveruje". Sa vladikama koji su obema nogama u politici i zapljusnuta sujeverjem koje izvire upravo "iz naroda" Crkva ne uspeva da kaže novu reč - i to poodavno. Crkva bi se upravo morala odrediti - i ograditi - od mrakobesija i paganskog klicanja predaka na način kako se to javno čini danas u Srbiji.


Mirko Đorđević
Last edited by pesak on 23/06/2007 15:00, edited 1 time in total.
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danas
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#332

Post by danas »

izvinjavam se na sebicnosti... ali podsjeti me tema... :D :D na my class of '97 (10 godina proslavismo :shock: )

Ladies and gentlemen of the class of '97:

* Wear sunscreen. If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience. I will dispense this advice now.

* Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they've faded. But trust me, in 20 years, you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked. You are not as fat as you imagine.

* Don't worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4 pm on some idle Tuesday.

* Do one thing every day that scares you.

* Sing.

* Don't be reckless with other people's hearts. Don't put up with people who are reckless with yours.

* Floss.

* Don't waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind. The race is long and, in the end, it's only with yourself.

* Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults. If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.

* Keep your old love letters. Throw away your old bank statements.

* Stretch.

* Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life. The most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives. Some of the most interesting 40-year-olds I know still don't.

* Get plenty of calcium. Be kind to your knees. You'll miss them when they're gone.

* Maybe you'll marry, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll have children, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll divorce at 40, maybe you'll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do, don't congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either. Your choices are half chance. So are everybody else's.

* Enjoy your body. Use it every way you can. Don't be afraid of it or of what other people think of it. It's the greatest instrument you'll ever own.

* Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room.

* Read the directions, even if you don't follow them.

* Do not read beauty magazines. They will only make you feel ugly.

* Get to know your parents. You never know when they'll be gone for good. Be nice to your siblings. They're your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.

* Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young.

* Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard.

* Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft.

* Travel.

* Accept certain inalienable truths: Prices will rise. Politicians will philander. You, too, will get old. And when you do, you'll fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable, politicians were noble, and children respected their elders.

* Respect your elders.

* Don't expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund. Maybe you'll have a wealthy spouse. But you never know when either one might run out.

* Don't mess too much with your hair or by the time you're 40 it will look 85.

* Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth.

But trust me on the sunscreen.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xfq_A8nXMsQ
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lady midnight
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#333

Post by lady midnight »

jedna asocijacija tjera drugu :D:D


ALI G'S 2004 HARVARD UNIVERSITY COMMENCEMENT SPEECH

Booyakasha - Professor G indahouse aiii. Big shout out de Harvard massiv I iz done a capital 'H', coz Harvard iz a place innit - u see I ain't no ignoranus. Things like 'apple' and 'orange' do not start with a capital letter, unless dey iz at de start of a sentence - but some of you brainboxes probably know dat already innit.Me name be Ali G and me represent de UK. For those of u who didn't study geography de UK is a place over a 100 MILES away from here, de capital of it is? Anyone? Not u geography square! ....yes, it is Liverpool. U iz clever and quite fly if u don't mind me sayin.

First of all, I iz got to say I iz a bit nervous speakin to so many of you - at least me would be if I weren't totally mashed. Normally de only public-speaking I does is to 12 people - and it's well easy all me has to say iz me name and de words 'not guilty'.

Checkit, me agreed to speak here today coz me wanted to talk to de brightest minds of our generation, to see what makes Harvard de most special university in de world, and also coz dey agreed to pay for me flight over here and hotel room. Sorry to bring dis up now, but when u iz told dat your hotel bill is bein paid for, u naturally assume dat dat includes essential extras like breakfast AND special interest pay-per-view movies. Imagine my surprise den dis morning, when I was given a bill for $164. Me was actually tryin to SAVE Harvard money by buying the 24-hour 'slutfest' packages at $19.99, rather dan paying for individual films at $11.99 each. Which would have cost u - [go thru them] Young and Tight....Backdoor Burglar 2......Backdoor Burglar 3.....Campus Confessions....Asian Fever...Shaven Buffet [get lost] twice dat one... Cold Mountain - dat was a mistake, Backdoor Burglar 4 ....almost 490 bucks. I mean come on, some of it was even research for dis, I iz sure one of de cheerleaders in 'Ivy League Amateurs' was wearin a Harvard sweatshirt.....infact allo darlin, respek - I expect u need a cushion to sit on, aiii.

Anyways I digest. It iz a well big honour to be arksed ere today. To fink dat so many great people has been educated ere like Lyndon Banes Johnson, or as he is better known - JFK, George Clinton was also ere I fink , and de one before him, and also...William Tell - is he one of your lot, probably, and dat bloke wiv de hat, but most importantly dat really fit honey from Star Wars - if u iz out dere, me'd love to - me iz stayin at de Best Western Hotel - me's got a really nice room, altho since dis morning dem has put a parental lock on de tv.

As I stand here today lookin at all of you, on this, your first day of university - I fink of all de fings me can offer you - wisdom, experience but most importantly of all 22 ounces of de finest Morrocan chronic. Well, Dat iz if de Ex-Lax works - to be honest I usually go at 11 in de morning - but nothing dere - infact me'd appreciate it if one medical students here wouldn't mind takin a look. Don't worry it's clean as a whistle, u could eat your lunch of it - infact meJulie has. I know u don't mind dat kind of fing does u.

Hearmenow, u iz de most cleverest students in America - some of u iz probably brilliant at counting - ye know...1,2,3...4.... I could continue...easy. Others of u will be brilliant at English - have memorised de whole alphabet 'a to x' and even be able to spell words like 'hippototamus'.

I iz also well clever - me was so brainy dat me finished me education 6 years before any of u - at de age of 15 - de teachers had to admit dat dere was nothing else dat dem could teach me. U students has come from every corner of de US from de rainforests of Arizona to de deserts of Alaska. Some of you iz probably never even seen a black man before.......allo

Dere is all types of people ere, and it's fantastic to see dat Harvard has finally let in so many women. A lot of u iz probably feminists or as we call dem in England 'lezzas'. I agree wiv u, dat u gotta treat women wiv respec - its de least dat bitches deserve.

Relationships should be brought into dis -de 20th centrury - u women out dere shouldn't have to do de cookin and de cleanin when u come home from work - u should do it before u leave in de morning.

But more importantly it's wikid dat in Harvard young women and men gets to learn so many amazing subjects.

Some of u here will have been studying medicine...dat knowledge come wiv a lot of responsibilities. Remember, doctors is some of de most powerfulest people in de world - u can give life, u can cure disease and u can ask to see a woman's [whistle] wivout getting slapped.

For those of u studying history, u probably learnt a lot about de Presidents. Like who was Jefferson, and what did Lincoln give America - apart from de town car.

Some of u iz de best legal students in de country. U would know wivout even thinking, how to get someone off a charge of possession. And if any of u do, then can me remind u - Room 204 at the Best Western. Just do me a favour put your ear to de door, and don't come in if u hears me shouting 'Natalie, play wiv me light saber'.

Let's talk about de finances of all dat k-nowledge dat's been dropped on u. It costs $38,000 a year to go to Harvard. Now I don't know how u lot has earnt dat - apart from u - and u iz earnt every penny, but most of u iz got dat cash from your parents.

All you fathers out dere u iz made choices - wiv dat money u could have bought top of de range Lexus but instead u chose to invest in ya kids future. IZ U MENTAL? If u iz got other kids me hopes u don't make de same mistake again innit. Does u realise how many honeys u can get wiv a Lex. 'allo sweetness my son's got a Harvard degree' [FEMALE VOICE] 'wot, who cares'

Or allo darlin, wanna check out de dvd player in de back aiii.' [her] 'wot's dat?' [me] 'it's ostrich leather' So students give it up for your parents.

Let's talk bout de future - your future. A lot of you iz probably worried bout employment. Unfortunately most of u WILL end up gettin jobs - especially now u iz got de burden of a degree.

You iz de elite, u will be tomorrow's captains of industry. Sittin infront of me is probly da next Bill Gates, Donald Trump...or even Ronald Mcdonald. And even if you can't all be Ronald himself, most of you iz probably McDonald's Team Leader material. By da way, if any of u ever gets to do business wiv Sir Ronald, a word of hadvice - don't mention de size of his feet....him iz well sensitive about it. Me mate Dave hactually met him, and he said dat even tho him may seem like he's always smiling, dere's a sadness in de eyes...coz of dem feet. All de money in de world - and science still can't do nothing. Maybe dat's something dat some of u M.I.T. nerds can fink about innit.

You lot will become powerful people who can change de future - and you need to, coz de world at de moment iz totally f-blank-blank-blank-ucked. Yeknow de word - I been told I ain't allowed to say it - u know - u know de rude word. U know U definitely know...wiv de whole team.

Anyhow, u iz gotta fink bout de problems in de world coz u iz gotta sort dem out innit. Look at da envirolment - global warming is so bad, dey say in 100 years time, all de rainforests will be gone and all de ice caps will have melted. Actually, 100 years time, we ain't gonna be around den, so don't need to worry about dat one.

But dere is other fings - look at de state of family today - klix is havin sex at younger ages, dere's an increase in absentee fathers and more and more people is havin affairs - but we shouldn't just concentrate on de good fings.Believing in something is easy. Actually doing something is harder. Actions speak louder dan birds.

U has all got de potential to become great americans. And remember America is de greatest country in de whole world ...apart from Jamaica...and Holland.. oh yeah and Thailand coz u got dose klix who do all de ye know and probly some others - but u iz definitely in de top 20.?U people iz de future, u has de chance to change de world, to hactually improve de life of de poor, OR U could goto Wall Street and earn millionz - get plasma screen, chinchilla coat, a series of relationships wiv gold-digging hoes happy to de de most disgusting sexual favours for some bling. Don't waste de opportunity dat g-d has given you - see u in Wall Street.

Let's rap dis up now, coz I fink me feels somethin movin down below. So, what iz I hopin to take away wiv me from dis time in Harvard? - new friends, different ways of finking about de world, and as many laptops as me mate Dave has managed to nick from your dorms, while u has been sitting ere listening to me stalling.

But I has got ideals too. Just like de great civil rights leader Martin Luther...Van Dross, I has a dream...of little black klix and little white klix...playin wiv each other. Let's make it happen I look out and I see 1000s of people wiv different hopes and different dreams - but it is important never to forget where u all came from - becoz black, white, brown or pakistani we all come from de same place - de punani. Jah bless - bigupyaself Princeton...and keep it real... wesside."
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danas
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#334

Post by danas »

pa preduhitri me u bobu :x :x :D :P :P :P

PS ovo uvijek oplacem -- coz Harvard iz a place innit - u see I ain't no ignoranus :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol:
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lady midnight
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#335

Post by lady midnight »

danas wrote:pa preduhitri me u bobu :x :x :D :P :P :P
shta'sh kad ferceramo na isti kalup :D:D:D :kiss:
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danas
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#336

Post by danas »

lady midnight wrote:
danas wrote:pa preduhitri me u bobu :x :x :D :P :P :P
shta'sh kad ferceramo na isti kalup :D:D:D :kiss:
innit... :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :lol: :P
rikardoreis
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#337

Post by rikardoreis »

SJEĆANJE NA ŠPANJOLSKI GRAĐANSKI RAT – George Orwell

Kada mislim o španjolskom ratu, uvijek mi ožive dvije uspomene. Jedna je sjećanje na bolnički odjel u Leridu i prilično tužne glasove ranjenih boraca narodne vojske kako pjevaju neku pjesmu s refrenom koji je završavao:


Una resolucion
Luchar hast'al fin!“


Dakle, do kraja su se borili dobro. Posljednjih osamnaest mjeseci rata republikanske armije su se morale boriti gotovo bez cigareta i s prolčeto malo hrane.
Čak i kada sam napustio Španjolsku sredinom 1937.vladala je oskudica u mesu i kruhu, duhan je bio rijetkost, a kava i šećer gotoov nedokučivi.

Druga uspomena je sjećanje na talijanskog vojnika koji mi je u stražarnici stisnuo ruku onog dana kada sam se pridružio narodnoj vojsci. Pisao sam o tom čovjeku na početku moje knjige o španjolskom ratu (Homage To Catalonia), i ne želim ovdje ponavljati što sam tamo rekao. Kada se sjetim – oh, kako živo! – njegove pohabane uniforme i plahovitog, patetičnog, nevinog lica kao da iščezavaju složene usputne posljedice rata i jasno vidim da ni u kom slučaju nije bilo sumnje tko je bio u pravu.
Uprkos politici velikih sila i novinarskim lažima, središnje pitanje rata bio je pokušaj takvih ljudi da izvojuju častan život za koji su smatrali da im po rođenju i pripada. Teško je razmišljati o vjerovatnom kraju tog čovjeka bez višestruke gorčine. Kada sam ga sreo u Lenjinovoj kasarni, vjerovatno je bio trockist ili anarhist, i u prilikama svojstvenim našem dobu takve ljude, ako ne ubije Gestapo, ubije G.P.U. (NKVD).

Ali to ne utječe na dugotrajne posljedice. Lice tog čovjeka, koje sam vidio samo minutu ili dvije, ostalo je u meni kao neka vrsta vizuelnog podsjetnika na ono zašto se stvarno ratovalo. Meni je on simbolizirao cvijet evropske radničke klase koju je proganjala policija svih zemalja, ljudi koji su punili masovno grobove čpanjolskih ratičta i koji sada, uz melodiju nekoliko milijuna, trunu u logorima za prisilni rad.

Kada čovjek razmišlja o svim ljudima koji potpomažu ili su potpomagali fašizam, ostaje zapanjen njihovom raznovrsnošću. Kakva momčad? Razmislite o programu koji bar na neko vrijeme na isti brod može dovesti Hitlera, Petaina, Montagu Normana, Pavelića, Williama Randholpa Hearsta, Streichera, Buchmana, Ezru Pounda, Juana Marcha, Cocteaua, Thyssena, oca Coughlina, muftiju od Jeruzalema, Arnolda Lunna, Antonescua,
Spenglera, Beverlyja Nicholsa, Lady Houston i Marinettija! Ali ključ je vrlo jednostavan. To su sve ljudi koji imaju nešto izgubiti, ili ljudi koji žude za hijerarhijskim društvom i boje se mogućeg svijeta slobodnih i jednakih ljudskih bića. Iza svih odvratnosti koje se govore o „bezbožničkoj“ Rusiji i „materijalizmu“ radničke klase stoji jednostavna namjera onih s novcem i privilegijama da se prilijepe na njih. Ista je stvar, iako s ekrije u njoj djelomična istina, sa svim pričama o bezvrijednosti izgradnje novog društva koje ne prati „duševna promjena“. Pobožni su, od pape do kalifornijskih jogija, plemeniti kada se radi o „društvenim promjenama“ što je s njihovog stanovišta mnogo utješnije nego promjena ekonomskog sistema. Petain je pad Francuske pripisivao „ljubavi za uživanjem“ običnih ljudi. To mišljenje vidite u pravoj perspektivi ako se upitate koliko zadovoljstva ima ima u svom životu običan francuski radnik ili seljak u usporedbi sa Petainom.

Prokleta bila bezobraznost tih političara, svećenika, ljudi od pera i svih drugih koji čitaju bukvice socijalisti iz radničke klase zbog njegovog „materijalizma“! sve što radni čovjek traži spada u ono što bi oni drugi smatrali nužnim minimumom bez kojeg je ljudski život nezamisliv. Dovoljno hrane, oslobođenje od mučnog terora nezaposlenosti, uvjerenost da će vaša djeca dobiti nepristrane mogućnosti, kupanje jednom dnevno, čisto rublje, krov koji ne prokišnjava, radni dan poslije kojeg vam i nakon obavljenog posla ostaje nešto malo energije.
Nijedan od onih koji propovijedaju protiv „materijalizma“ ne bi život smatrao bez tih uvjeta podnošljivim. A kako bi lako mogli ostvariti taj minimum kada bi tom poslu posvetili samo dvadeset godina! Podići životni standard čitavog svijeta na razinu britanskog ne bi bio veći pothvat od rata koji sada vodimo. Ja ne tvrdim, i ne znam nikoga tko bi to tvrdio, da bi se sami po sebi riješili svi problemi. Želim samo reći da neimaština i surovi rad moraju biti iskorijenjeni i da se tek onda mogu početi razmatrati stvarni problemi čovječanstva.

Glavni problem našeg vremena je gubitak vjerovanja u osobnu besmrtnost, a o tome se ne može raspravljati dok se prosječno ljudsko biće kinj poput vola ili dršće u strahu od tajne policije. Koliko su u pravu radničke klase u svojem „materijalizmu“! Koliko su u pravu da shvaćaju da želudac dolazi prije duše, ne na skali vrijednosti, već po vremenskom redoslijedu. Shvatimo to i dugotrajni užasi koje trpimo postat će barem razumljivi. Sva razmatranja koja vas navode na oklijevanje – zavodljivi glasovi Petaina ili Gandhija, neizbježna činjenica da se u borbi morate poniziti, dvoličn amoralna pozicija Britanije s njenim demokratskim frazama i carstvom kulija, kobni razvoj Sovjetske Rusije, jedna farsa ljevičarske politike – sve to blijedi i pred vama se ponavlja jedino borba običnih ljudi koji se postupno bude protiv gospodara i njihovih unajmljenih lažljivaca i protuha.

Pitanje je vrlo jednostavno. Hoće li ljudima poput tog talijanskog vojnika biti dopušteno da prožive častan, pun, ljudski život koji je sada tehnički osvariv, ili neće?
Hoće li običan čovjek biti gurnut natrag u blato, ili neće? Ja vjerujem, možda s nedovoljno razloga, da će običan čovjek dobiti svoju bitku prije ili kasnije, ali želim da to bude prije a ne kasnije – negdje u slijedećih sto godina, recimo, ali ne u narednih deset tisuća godina. To je u stvari bilo odlučno pitanje španjolskog rata kao i sadašjneg rata, a vjerovatno i drugih ratova koji će doći.

Nikada više nisam vidio tog talijanskog vojnika narodne armije, niti sam ikada saznao njegovo ime. Vrlo je vjerojatno da je mrtav. Gotoov dvije godine kasnije, kada je rat očito bio izgubljen, napisao sam mu u spomen ove stihove:

Talijanski vojnik stisnuo mi je ruku
Preko stola, u stražarnici;
Snažnom i nježnom rukom
Baš takvih dlanova

Usred paljbe topova što mogu se sresti
Oh, kakav sam mir spoznao tad
Gledajuć' njegovo ranjavo lice
Čistije od lica bilo koje žene.

Odvratne riječi od kojih mi se povraća
Njegovim ušima još su bile svete
On je rođen sa znanjem koje sam ja sticao
Iz knjiga i polako, kao dijete.

Varljivi topovi ispričali su svoju priču
I svaki od nas pošteno ju je platio.
Al' meni je sudbina bila sklona.
Čemu? Tko bi to ikad shvatio?

E pa sretno, talijanski vojniče.
Ali, sreća za hrabre nije.
Što će ti svijet uzvratiti?
Uvijek manje nego što si dao prije.

Između utvare i sjene,
Između crvene i bijele,
Između metka i laži,
Gdje se skriti, kaži?

Jer gdje je Manuel Gonzales,
I gdje je Pedro Aquilar,
I gdje je Ramon Fenellosa?
Crvi u zemlji znaju gdje su.

Tvoje ime i junačka djela zaboravljeni su.
Ogoljele kosti nitko ti ne traži.
Laž koja te pogubila sahranjena je
Ispod još veće laži.

Ali ono što vidjeh na tvom licu
Ne može izbrisat' nijedna sila.
Nijedna bomba koja je ikad pukla
Kristalno čist duh nije razorila
User avatar
lady midnight
Posts: 2624
Joined: 24/04/2007 16:06
Location: iznad oblaka

#338

Post by lady midnight »

Charles Bukowski

Friends Within The Darkness

I can remember starving in a
small room in a strange city
shades pulled down, listening to
classical music
I was young I was so young it hurt like a knife
inside
because there was no alternative except to hide as long
as possible--
not in self-pity but with dismay at my limited chance:
trying to connect.

the old composers -- Mozart, Bach, Beethoven,
Brahms were the only ones who spoke to me and
they were dead.

finally, starved and beaten, I had to go into
the streets to be interviewed for low-paying and
monotonous
jobs
by strange men behind desks
men without eyes men without faces
who would take away my hours
break them
piss on them.

now I work for the editors the readers the
critics

but still hang around and drink with
Mozart, Bach, Brahms and the
Bee
some buddies
some men
sometimes all we need to be able to continue alone
are the dead
rattling the walls
that close us in.



Prayer In Bad Weather


by God, I don't know what to



I like your books

In the betting line the other
day
man behind me asked,
"are you Henry
Chinaski?"

"uh huh," I answered.

"I like your books," he went
on.

"thanks," I answered.

"who do you like in this
race?" he asked.

"uh uh," I answered.

"I like the 4 horse," he
told me.

I made my bet and went back
to my seat....

the next race I am standing in
line and here is this same man
standing behind me
again.
there are at least 50 lines at
the windows but
he has to find mine
again.

"I think this race favors the
closers," he said to the back of
my neck. "the track looks
heavy."

"listen," I said, not looking
around, "it's the kiss of death to
talk about horses at the
track..."

"what kind of rule is that?"
he asked. "God doesn't make
rules..."

I turned around and looked at him:
"maybe not, but I
do."

after the next race
I got in line, glanced behind
me:
he was not there:

lost another reader.

I lose 2 or 3 each
week.

fine.

let 'em go back to
Kafka.

rikardoreis
Posts: 1957
Joined: 03/08/2006 00:01
Location: ulica san martin, buenos aires

#339

Post by rikardoreis »

haj prevedi, ziva bila, ne znamo svi engleski tako dobro... :)
User avatar
Ergot
Posts: 1019
Joined: 27/03/2004 23:00
Location: dislocation

#340

Post by Ergot »

Becoming a Filleter

by: Robertson, Stanley
________________________________________
Source: Stanley Robertson, Fish-Hooses (Balnain Books: Nairn, 1990)


It wis a wee, pokie hole of a place in Old Ford Road and it teen me a half-hoor to find it. Whin I did, a tall impudent cove growled and snarled at me.

I wis only a laddie of fifteen years and a very quiet type of a loon and I wisnae accustomed tae lippie folks. At least I got the scabby job. I wis gan tae get thirty-eight shillings a week and for that coppers I wis gan tae hae tae work a forty-eight hoor week. In early 1956 that wis about the gan rates for loons of my age intae the fish trade. The gaffer telt me tae start the morrin and I wis glad tae get the job.

Mi sister Nina telt me that I wid get intae the wye of it cos she hid bin a filleter for donkeys of years. She sort of telt me some of the things that the hantel intae the fish-hooses wid dae tae mi. Tae tell ye the honest truth mi heart wisnae really intae daeing this kind of work but whin ye hae got naething then ye hae tae mak the best of a bad situation.


Weel, I pulled mi courage taegither and wint intae this scabby fish-hoose. As I didnae hae nae experience at onything, I didnae ken whit tae dae or whar tae start. The pure guffy of a gaffer screamed at mi like an animal, pointed ower tae a cauld finnin machine and booted mi airse ower in the direction of it. I didnae say a word, cos I wis feart of this powerful man. There wis a young red-heided hizzie on the finnin machine, wha hid a face on her like a pig. If onybody hid an attitude problem it wis this quine!

Her name wis Polly and she wis terribly impudent. Frae the very first minute I met her, I jist hated her. She gaed mi a bag of lip for nae reason and she cawed mi frae Heaven tae Hell. If ever I felt like gieing a dame a kick, it wis definitely this Polly wis gan tae get it. The selfish gaffer adored this dilly and I think they were haeing a bit of a cairryon taegither. He said that if I annoyed this Polly then he wid batter mi, so I hid tae hud mi wheesht. Underneath mysel there wis a madcap wanting tae brak loose but I bade mi time.

The first day wis awful. I wis on a rotten finnin machine an I wis getting electric shocks aff of the auld finner and mi hands were aa sair and skinned wi the fish. It wis a scabby, thankless job I wis daeing. The smell of fish wis sae scunnering that I nearly puked up. The gills really sickened mi and this selfish midden of a dame wis deliberately picking oot the fish een and burstin them in mi face. Mi moy wis aa speckled wi black dots frae the fish een and I could feel scabs brakin oot on mi face and mi hands, which were awfy sair. If it wisnae for shame I wid hae sat doon and grate. Tae mak maitters worse, the gaffer pit mi ontae the salty pickles, and the cuts on mi hands were stinging like mad and aa yella wi the cutler dye.


Maist of the ither women were aaright. There wis Big Ena, Rossie, Doshie, Uggie, Muggie and Beanie. Whit a right bunch of fish-wives they were as weel! They were maistly aulder women but they hid a funny sense of humour.

Doshie wis the fastest filleter, but a rough een. Beanie liked to gossip aboot aabody and aathing. I liked her cos she wis sic a braw character. Rossie and Uggie were the best of pals but they aye manged and miscawed een anither. If Rossie wis on the pickle, Beanie wid miscaw her like cat's dirt and vice versa, when Uggie wis on the pickle then Rossie wid blacken her name tae aabody ontae the filleting table…

Muggie wis an awfy bonnie worker and she teen pride intae her work, so aabody used tae get a bit jealous whin she wis asked for tae dae special orders and boss's fries. She wis also very neat in her appearance. Sometimes whin the gaffer wisnae in she wid teach mi tae fillet, but Doshie cliped on mi and sae did the dame Polly.


Although I wis a seven-steen weakling, naebody teen pity on mi. I wis the only laddie there and I wis fair croaked wi work. The sweat used tae lash aff mi brew whin it came tae unloading the trawl boxes of haddock, whiting, cod, tusk and black-jacks. I wis fair packered. Mi muscles were torn oot of their sockets and mi airms streeked sae far doon that I deeked like a monkey. Oh, bless us and save us! - it wis pure torture! Whin the gaffer wis awa then I could get a wee skive, but when he wis aroon it wis Hell upon Earth. It teen mi a couple of weeks tae get intae the set of things but nae maitter how hard I grafted, as far as this gaffer wis concerned, I wis jist a useless puddin. He gaed nae compliments or kind words tae me, but he aye paid compliments tae scadded, blurted Polly, wha wis obviously cocking her leg for him. I suppose if I wis a dilly then he wid hae bin okay tae mi as weel, but as I wis a boy he mortally hated mi.

Many a time he wid say: "Why dae ye nae wash yer neck, cos ye're awfy clatty."

Of course this wid cause laughter among the manishees, all except Muggie, wha wis a cut abeen the rest. Tae mak things worse, aa the folks kent that I wis a Traveller and they aye dropped snide remarks at mi. Tae mi they were only a bunch of dumpish Scaldies, so whit wis I gan tae worry mysel aboot them for. If I hid telt mi faither, wha could fecht like big guns, that this gaffer wis gaeing mi hassle, then he wid hae come doon and made mince-meat oot of him. Mi faither wis a man tae be reckoned wi… however, I jist stuck it oot for the sake of keeping the peace. I wis a quiet loon and I didnae like tae cause trouble.

Muggie liked mi cos she thought that I hid the gift of the sceond sight, and sae I did. I kent the wye tae read fortunes and this appealed tae the ither cullochs. They were kind of sleekit. Whin they heard mi reading Muggie's palm for a laugh, then they aa wanted it deen. They aa turned kind tae mi and even dame Polly changed her tune taewards mi. But I wisnae being taken in by them.

Somehow, I didnae trust Scaldies very far in that days so I bade mi time until I wid use them tae mi ain advantage. Polly got ontae the gaffer for bawling at mi and she started tae gie mi a fine roll every morning alang wi mi tea. Then I kent whit aa this palavering wis for: it wis for tae read rubbish tae them aboot their tea cups. Whin ony of the manishees asked mi tae read their cups I jist aye telt them it wis very unlucky. But I aye read Muggie's cup and I aye made up a guid story for her cos I liked her; but whin I did onybody else's then I wid mak things oot tae be bad. It wis aa jist a load of dung I telt them, but they believed every word. Mind ye, whit I did tell them did come tae pass. I telt Polly that she wis gan tae faa pregnant and that the boy wis gang tae rin awa and leave her. That really did happen. Pure coincidence? Or perhaps it wis mi secret evil curses that I wis pittin ontae them that wis really happening! Never mind, at least this silly games wis getting mi a bit of peace frae them constantly nagging at mi and it kind of kept the guffified gaffer aff mi back.

I must say the work wis very hard. Muggie aye telt mi tae aye look busy and if I didnae find something tae keep mi busy, she wid look for something for mi tae dae. She wis the first person tae start mi aff filleting.


At half-past five every night ye hid tae gang wi thousands of boxes doon tae the railway station tae load up the waggons. It wis an awfy scunner of a job and I loathed daeing it. It meant that whin ye hid worked frae afore eight in the morning ye were still haeing tae work overtime for about half an oor every night and ye got nixie for it. Nae even a word of thank you.

I wis wearying very quickly in this pokie hole of a fish hoose.

Noo it sae happened that Muggie wis haeing a birthday party and she wanted tae invite aa the hantel frae the work. She wanted me tae bring a pack of cards so that as a party piece I wid read some of this silly manishee's fortunes. I didnae want tae dae that but she said that I could bring alang a friend and that I wid get a little something for mi trouble. Whin ye dinnae hae twa wings tae rub, then it wis an awfy temptation tae be offered lowdy. Onywye, it wis jist a lot of skitter I telt the hantel, so they were pure burniegullies tae believe it in the first place.

Weel, me and mi mate went up for a laugh tae see if there wis ony talent, but Polly wis the youngest dame there and it wis mair like a hennie night. Mi pal and me decided nae tae bide that lang intae the woman's cane, cos we hid ither plans tae meet blondes later on in the night.

Whit a lovely keir Muggie hid. Why, there wis a bonnie carpet fitted ontae the fleer, and this wis a time whin maist folks hid only pungo. She also hid a persian rug as weel. Even though the hoose wis in the Gallowgate and a very auld yin, it wis in marvellous condition. I hid never deeked a cane like it. Her ornaments were shining and everything intae her hoose wis spick and span.

She welcomed us aa in and she wis a perfect hostess. Beanie says, "I must say Muggie, ye hiv a right bonnie hoose. Ye hae deen yersel prood."

Ithers expressed their appreciation of the hoose in like-wise mainner. Muggie thanks the woman and she teen the orders for the teas or coffees. Wid ye believe it? The very moment that Muggie wint ben the hoose tae mak the teas, big Ena says tae Doshie, "Gie's a hand and lift mi up for a minute, cos I want tae see something for masel."

I wondered whit it wis that she wanted tae deek at. I couldnae believe whit I wis seeing. Doshie lifted big Ena up a few inches aff the fleer and big Ena pit her fingers oot ower the beading that wis up beside the frieze and she drew her fammels alang the length of it and she says tae aa the folks in the living room, "Jist as I thought: Filth!"

Fit a damn cheek she hid, takin liberties in Muggie's hoose. Muggie wis a spotless person and if ye cawed a wee settle of dust on a beading filth, then ye were nae much of a person. How could Big Ena and the ithers mang aboot their friend like that? Whit a sleekit, dirty action - I wis highly annoyed at them!

Muggie came ben wi the teas and coffees and aa this sleekit lot started praising Muggie up. I really felt like exposing them. Decky, mi pal, and me decided that we widnae bide lang in this crappie party. There wis naething there for us but a puckle foggies blethering rubbish. Muggie gaed mi five shilling so I made up a load of tripe - bonnie tripe for her but the ithers, weel, I gaed them horrible fortunes for being sae selfish and miscawing peer Muggie behind her back.

Decky and me left early tae meet some quines at a cafe wi a juke box and wi played records and hits aa of the evening. It wis great fun as I hid five shillings tae spend on the records and even lowdy for the ice creams.

Next day at work they were aa whispering aboot Muggie's hoose and the party and aa being sae sleekit and twa faced that it made me want tae vomit.

I hated this smelly fish hoose and resolved that I wisnae gan tae spend muckle mair time in this terrible joint. So I asked some of mi freens wha I kent in the fish trade, if there wis ony jobs gan and if there wis, tae let mi ken. I knew it wis time tae be moving on somewye else, but I wis feart at this big gaffer and didnae want tae pit in mi notice tae him. Yet I kent in mi heart that I couldnae stick it ony langer.

I hid met a pal of mine wha worked at the herring and he telt me that there wis a job gan intae the night shift whar he worked. So I wint roon and I got the job and wis telt tae start the following Monday evening at 6pm. Noo mi problem wis that I wis a bit trash tae pit in mi weeks notice cos this big ill-natured gaffer wid hae hut mi as quick as look at mi. I wis hoping that something wid happen so that I could leave withoot any ado.

Weel, it so happened that the gaffer that morning wis chappin aff the heids of big black-jacks for freshening and he gaed himsel a right kami-kazi cut. It wis horrible and the bleed wis aawyes. It wis like a butcher's shop. The fella jawlocked and he hid tae get up tae the hospital immediately, and Muggie hid tae pit a spoon doon his mooth tae save him frae dying. I wis scared stiff. He wis kept intae the hospital and though he wis oot of ony danger he wis gan tae be in there for a week. Noo this wis mi chance tae pit in mi warning tae the clerkess.

They got anither laddie tae tak mi place. I hid tae pay five shillings on mi apron and ten shillings for mi wellies, so I didnae hae muckle pay on leaving.

I said cheerio tae aa the manishees and bung avree as quick as I could.

I didnae feel nae regrets aboot leaving that scabby place.

Weel, on the following Monday night I wint doon tae the herring place and it wis massive. Aa of the day-shift crowd were coming oot as I went in. The gaffer wis anither big rough-deeking gadgie and I thought tae masel that this wis gan tae be anither guffie - but he wis a fine, cheerful man. There wis only me and him and anither fella wha worked the kilns. I liked these men. This gaffer telt me tae jist mak tea and light fires. He never bothered mi, nor did he ask mi tae come intae the smoking kilns; in fact I didnae dae muckle work there, for the twa men deen everything that needed tae be deen. I wis mair of a hindrance tae them, but they never said onything.

The hoors were awfy lang cos it wis frae 6pm until 6am and sometimes it wis 8am before ye finished. There were night-shift lassies came in aboot 10pm and whit a wild bunch they were! Aa they spoke aboot wis sex and they telt een anither aboot their secret passions. Een of them wis madly in love wi the actor Audie Murphy and she aye used tae imagine that her man wis him in bed. Being a naive cratur masel and nae kennin onything aboot onything, I wis getting taught mi sex education frae these women. The Travellers never spoke aboot sex like this, so I wis learning things that I never kent before. Whin the twa fellas started tae join in, then the air turned blue. They came oot wi scaldie terms for sex like gameroosh, bitties, VD and a hale amount of things that I didnae ken whit they were manging aboot, even though they were a really fine bunch tae work with. I often used tae help the lassies pack cos there wis naething else for mi tae dae as the men deen it aa.

Mi first pay wis £5 10 shillings and that wis a guid working man's wage. I felt like Airchie. The only thing wrang wi it, wis that I didnae get oot tae spend it. I went hame frae work and slept until mither wakened mi up tae gang back tae work. It wis nae life for a loon of fifteen. At least I stuck it. I didnae like Fridays cos the twa men used tae leave mi on mi toad and they wint oot tae the peever and widnae come back till well through the night. I wis scared being left intae this big guldridge of a place, for there wis supposed tae hae bin a mannie hanged himsel in een of the kilns, and I aye imagined him haunting the place. It wis okay whin the fellas came back half-drunk. They were fine lads and, apart frae their rough and vulgar language, I couldnae fault them.


Everything wis gan fine until the twa fellas wint on holiday and a pure guffie teen ower. It only teen one hoor wi him and I walked oot leaving him stranded in the kilns wi heaps of kippers tae tak oot on his own.

I wint doon next tae anither herring place and it wis a really big and tough place. There were stacks of loons and quines and a heap of really auld wifies intae it. Six of us started the same day. Een of them cawed Alfie said tae us:

"Be like a chameleon; blend in wi everythin and dae as little as possible!"

Yet I remembered the words of Muggie, "Aye look for a job tae dae," and so I teen her advice.

The boss, wha wis a very handsome auld man, showed me personally how tae wash herrin before they were pit intae the pickle. He showed me how tae dae this cos I wis the only een wi nae experience, the ither laddies aa said that they kent their jobs. It wis a hard, scunnering job. Ye hid tae tak full baskets of split-herring frae the back of the splitting machine and wash them by swirling the basket whin it wis immersed intae a huge tub of water.

Never mind, I kept up wi the machine and the four lassies ontae the kipper pickles. There were three auld wifies wha laughed and joked and asked the maist personal questions aboot mi sex life. There wis anither bonnie lassie on wi them wha hid kind of African features, though she wis Scottish, and I fancied her like mad. She kent that I liked her and she wid use her chairm tae get me tae dae extra jobs for her so that she could sneak oot for a puff of a fag. I didnae mind daeing it for her, but then the ither auld wifies started tae play on yer guid nature.

That very first day at the finish of the work, the six loons and mysel that hid aa started taegither (including the elusive Alfie, wha wis a right poser), wi were aa cried up intae the office, and the boss said, "All of ye lads dinnae bother coming back - except ye, Ginger. I hae watched ye aa working and ye were aa deid weight but ye, Ginger, worked awa regardless."

I wis shocked. It seemed the auld mannie liked mi. So Muggie's words were guid advice, "Aye look for a job tae dae."

At the back of this place there wis a white fish side and an auld woman used tae show mi how tae fillet. Weel I wis nae bad at it, as Muggie hid shown mi already how tae dae the basics of filleting.

It wis a rough place but I liked the folks there. I liked filleting best cos that wis whit I wanted tae dae, and filleters were the highest paid in the fish trade. But somehow, ye aye seemed tae get pulled back intae the herring side. It wis an awful smelly, clatty job and the red dye stained yer hands and widnae come aff. Also I hid tae hurry aa the time tae keep up wi the splitter.

Hanging the kilns wis anither job that I hated. The kilns hid eighteen spars and it reached right up intae the lofters. Usually it wis me, Hans and Ackie wha deen the hanging of the kilns. It teen ages tae dae. I liked being at the very top best, but Ackie wis a better worker than I wis at the top. He could swing wi nae bother. The lassies doon below aye handed up the herring ontae tinter sticks up tae the first laddie and he handed it up tae the second yin and then up in turn tae the laddie at the top. It wis aaright tae start wi, but as the tinters got heavier and heavier, yer airms got sairer and sairer. The kiln got filled up frae the top spar first and ye sort of worked yer wye alang and then doon. By the end ye were aa getting crushed beside these kippers and tinters. Somehow, the top laddie aye ended aff sitting on the second laddies heid. The second laddie hid the hardest job because he hid tae maneouver these tinter sticks full of kippers withoot letting ony faa. The top laddie placed them aa in order. The tinters aye scraped yer face and tore yer hands and the red dye trickled doon upon yer heid. Apart frae that, somebody aye farted on yer face, for ye were working at een anithers airse aa the time. By the time ye came oot, ye were aa shattered. It wis best tae wear slack troosers, cos tight jeans wid rupture ye! Straddling the kilns, ye hid tae hae a fit up and anither leg doon a couple of spars and yer legs got cramped; though whin ye got accustomed tae it, the job wis a doddle.

The smell wis the worst part of working at the kippers. Everybody wore their wellies hame tae their dinners whin they were finished. Ye aye kent the herring workers on the bus coming hame cos they hid a distinct guff emitting frae them. The white fish hid a completely different kind of savour. It wisnae quite sae horrid as the herring. Come time, ye got used tae the smell but it made ye very touchy when non fish-workers wid say things like:

"Whit a horrible smell of fish!" Ye jist turned roon and gaed them a tear of lip, or a look like a summons.


Noo working here, I wis beginning tae get influenced wi the ither laddies. Mi language wis getting a bit stronger and I started tae smoke and drink. Often I wid meet the laddies in the city and wid gang tae the pub wi them. For the first time I wis starting tae mix with scaldie laddies and lassies and really, they were aaright. It wis me wha hid a complex and I aye imagined that folks were speaking aboot mi, and I would get bad-minded. Really the folks were fine enough, I jist hid a lot of social problems. Being a Traveller laddie, I hid never really mixed wi Scaldie folks, but now as I wis beginning tae like them I wint up tae their hooses. Although mi closest pals were aye Traveller fellas I did rub shooders wi the lads that I worked wi, and I still hid an awfy crush on this lassie at the pickles.

Een day, the mannie on the splitter wis aff and there wis only a lassie on the boner. She couldnae work the splitter cos it wis a fast machine. It teen a fish every second and ye hid tae place it intae a smaa grip that opened for a split second. It looked like the chain of a tank. I wis able tae work the splitter, so the boss kept mi on that job aa the time, and I hid nae mair tae hang kilns or wash herring. I enjoyed the splitter cos I wis mi ain boss and naebody bothered mi. Eventually I learned tae fillet as weel.

At last I felt it wis time tae move on and try tae get a job as a filleter. Filleters got better wages and a bit of respect as weel. Naebody shouted at them. I wint and I got a trial in anither fish-hoose and somehow I done very well and the man wis impressed, so I got the job. At last I wis a filleter! Noo the fish trade wis open tae me and I felt I hid accomplished something at last and the fish trade seemed tae hae something better tae offer mi. The wages were gan tae be better too…

There are hundreds of stories tae tell aboot the fish hooses intae Aiberdeen, but noo I wid be able tae tell ye aboot them seen through the een of a filleter.
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lady midnight
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#341

Post by lady midnight »

rikardoreis wrote:haj prevedi, ziva bila, ne znamo svi engleski tako dobro... :)

uh izvini :roll: :roll: :roll: ja se ne usudjujem :D al potrazhicu kakav prevod :D mada mislim da ce ga infra prije naci, bolje je upoznata sa dubinama cyberspacea:D

al kao wendersonov fan si me ipak malchice razocharao :P:D ;)
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Ergot
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#342

Post by Ergot »

lady midnight wrote:
rikardoreis wrote:haj prevedi, ziva bila, ne znamo svi engleski tako dobro... :)

uh izvini :roll: :roll: :roll: ja se ne usudjujem :D al potrazhicu kakav prevod :D mada mislim da ce ga infra prije naci, bolje je upoznata sa dubinama cyberspacea:D

al kao wendersonov fan si me ipak malchice razocharao :P:D ;)
Ajd prevest cu ja, svakako mi je to jedina stavka u opisu posla. :D Rikardo, ti navrati sutra i ponesi dvajes ojera. :D :D :D
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Ergot
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#343

Post by Ergot »

InfraRedRidinghood wrote:Taman, nemam cajta sad da rovarim 8) 8)
Eto vidis, tebi stedim vrijeme a Rikardu zajebanciju oko tudjeg jezika. :D
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#344

Post by rikardoreis »

lady midnight wrote:
rikardoreis wrote:haj prevedi, ziva bila, ne znamo svi engleski tako dobro... :)

uh izvini :roll: :roll: :roll: ja se ne usudjujem :D al potrazhicu kakav prevod :D mada mislim da ce ga infra prije naci, bolje je upoznata sa dubinama cyberspacea:D

al kao wendersonov fan si me ipak malchice razocharao :P:D ;)
a šta'š...demistifikacija je cudna stvar :D :D ...nakon nje redovno slijedi razocarenje :D :D
nego, hu iz faked WendersON :? :oops: :P :D :)


Ergot, nema ti ovdi u portugal tijeh ojera, samo escudosa, imam dvajes i petnes centavosa, al treba mi za busa do Tejo-a, da sjednem na obalu i placem :D :D :)
zato te vodim na cristinu branco :D
tnx unaprijed... :)
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#345

Post by rikardoreis »

:lol: :lol:

necemo koketinu, ima salmonele :D
psst, infri, ne zachatavaj (i) ovu temu :D :)
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lady midnight
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#346

Post by lady midnight »

rikardoreis wrote:
lady midnight wrote:
rikardoreis wrote:haj prevedi, ziva bila, ne znamo svi engleski tako dobro... :)

uh izvini :roll: :roll: :roll: ja se ne usudjujem :D al potrazhicu kakav prevod :D mada mislim da ce ga infra prije naci, bolje je upoznata sa dubinama cyberspacea:D

al kao wendersonov fan si me ipak malchice razocharao :P:D ;)
a šta'š...demistifikacija je cudna stvar :D :D ...nakon nje redovno slijedi razocarenje :D :D
nego, hu iz faked WendersON :? :oops: :P :D :)


Ergot, nema ti ovdi u portugal tijeh ojera, samo escudosa, imam dvajes i petnes centavosa, al treba mi za busa do Tejo-a, da sjednem na obalu i placem :D :D :)
zato te vodim na cristinu branco :D
tnx unaprijed... :)
e ovo je bumerang za koji sam zasluzhila da se vrati :D:D:D
jesam li - tuka kakva sam - rekla wendersoNOv, u PM...da ti kazhem sad da sam wendersa chak i intervjuisala, ne bi mi vjerov'o (da se malo pohvalim :P:P:D:D:D)
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#347

Post by rikardoreis »

lady midnight wrote:
rikardoreis wrote:
lady midnight wrote:
uh izvini :roll: :roll: :roll: ja se ne usudjujem :D al potrazhicu kakav prevod :D mada mislim da ce ga infra prije naci, bolje je upoznata sa dubinama cyberspacea:D

al kao wendersonov fan si me ipak malchice razocharao :P:D ;)
a šta'š...demistifikacija je cudna stvar :D :D ...nakon nje redovno slijedi razocarenje :D :D
nego, hu iz faked WendersON :? :oops: :P :D :)


Ergot, nema ti ovdi u portugal tijeh ojera, samo escudosa, imam dvajes i petnes centavosa, al treba mi za busa do Tejo-a, da sjednem na obalu i placem :D :D :)
zato te vodim na cristinu branco :D
tnx unaprijed... :)
e ovo je bumerang za koji sam zasluzhila da se vrati :D:D:D
jesam li - tuka kakva sam - rekla wendersoNOv, u PM...da ti kazhem sad da sam wendersa chak i intervjuisala, ne bi mi vjerov'o (da se malo pohvalim :P:P:D:D:D)
ma nista, bilo je bez zlobe :)
covjece, pa daj taj intervju okaci, sjeti se ako ga nemas...vjerujem ti, sto ne bi vjerov'o dami u ponoc :D :)
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Ergot
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#348

Post by Ergot »

lady midnight wrote:.da ti kazhem sad da sam wendersa chak i intervjuisala, ne bi mi vjerov'o (da se malo pohvalim :P:P:D:D:D)
Big deal, ja sam se druzio sa Julianom Barnesom. 8) 8) 8)
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Ergot
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#349

Post by Ergot »

Rikardo, ovo je najbrzi prijevod poezije u povijesti prevodilastva. Za 20 minuta i tvojih pisljivih 20 pezosa bolje ne moze. :D Sutra cu malo revidirati i dotjerati, navrati opet na temu.

Prijatelji u tami

Sjeæam se kako sam gladovao u
Maloj sobi u tuðem gradu
Navukao roletne i slu¹ao
Klasiènu muziku
Bio sam mlad, tako mlad da je boljelo
K’o da me no¾em bodu
Jer izbora nije bilo, mor’o sam se kriti
©to je moguæe du¾e
Al’ ne ¹to sam sebe samog sa¾aljevao
Veæ ¹to su me ogranièene moguænosti obeshrabrile:
Htio sam se povezati

Stari kompozitori – Mozart, Bach, Beethoven
i Brahms, jedino su oni sa mnom razgovarali
a bijahu mrtvi.

Na kraju, izgladnjen i slomljen, morao sam izaæi
Na ulicu da me intervjuiraju za lo¹e plaæene i
Monotone
Poslove
Tuði ljudi ¹to sjede za stolovima
Ljudi bez oèiju, ljudi bez lica
Koji bi da uzmu moje sate
Izlome ih
Pi¹aju po njima

Sad radim za urednike èitatelje
Kritièare
Al’ jo¹ se dru¾im i pijem sa Mozartom, Bachom, Brahmsom i
Bethom
Kakvi jarani!
Kakvi ljudi!
Ponekad, sve ¹to nam treba da uzmognemo dalje sami
Su mrtvi
Da tresu zidove
©to nas zatvaraju
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Ergot
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#350

Post by Ergot »

Molitva po lo¹em vremenu

Tako mi Boga, ne znam ¹ta da radim



E, ovo je bio najbr¾i prijevod ikad :D
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