OCTOBER 2023….OCTOBER 2026….
THREE years ago the world witnessed the AL AQSA FLOOD and today, ‘far from the maddening crowd’, many still believe the GENOCIDE did not drench the earth with blood. Faced with the fact that the predominant narrative of the holocaust survivors has been challenged, Gaza is agonising as ‘An Abandoned Bundle’. Oswald Mtshali in his poem, An Abandoned Bundle, vivid yet grotesque images grips the reader into the callous nature of a young woman who discards her newborn baby on a rubbish dump and walks away from the horror with an innocence ‘like untrampled dew.’ In the instant of that mind picture overwhelming the horizon, I am left aghast to believe the carnage of newborns, babies in their mangers, toddlers in their toy cars and children on the field incinerated or minced to pieces by 2000 ton bombs precisely aimed at them. And the IOF strut off into the horizon innocent as ‘untrampled dew.’ In the background, the menacing machine minces down an house and again, like untrampled dew the driver and the soldiers move off into the sunset free of guilt. I am left exasperated like a snarling lion caught in a snare with its captors waiting its imminent death because they are afraid like mice to go near.
The morning mist
and chimney smoke
of White City Jabavu
flowed thick yellow
as pus oozing
from a gigantic sore.
It smothered our little houses
like fish caught in a net.
Scavenging dogs
draped in red bandanas of blood fought fiercely
for a squirming bundle.
I threw a brick;
they bared fangs
flicked velvet tongues of scarlet and scurried away,
leaving a mutilated corpseㅡ
an infant dumped on a rubbish heapㅡ
‘Oh! Baby in the Manger
sleep well
on human dung.’
Its mother
had melted into the rays of the rising sun,
her face glittering with innocence
her heart pure as untrampled dew.
by Oswald Mbuyiseni Mtshali
http://www.poetryforlife.co.za/index.php/anthology/south-african-poems/103-an-abandoned-bundle
The House Demolitions Continue
The other day, while teaching Thomas Hardy’s Throwing a Tree, I asked my pupils how they felt about the felling of a tree that had stood for some two hundred years. Their response was hesitant, almost subdued. Seeking to bring Hardy’s image closer to their own understanding, I drew a parallel with the demolition of homes in Gaza and the West Bank and asked them to imagine, quite simply, how they would feel if the home in which their memories, security and sense of belonging were rooted were suddenly reduced to rubble.
A murmur passed through the classroom. What had begun as a rather distant discussion about the felling of an ancient tree suddenly became painfully human. The pupils began to speak with feeling about loss, displacement, helplessness and the anguish of watching something precious destroyed before one’s eyes. In that moment, the poem ceased to be merely a text to be studied. It became an encounter with the human condition.
And perhaps therein lies the enduring power of literature. Hardy’s falling tree became, for us, a metaphor for what happens when mankind, driven by greed, power and self-interest, loses its reverence for life and sinks into the abyss of self-betrayal, seldom recognising the moral ruin into which it has descended. Yet there remain those who refuse to accept destruction as normal, who resist the numbing of conscience and continue to speak when silence would be easier. They may still be a minority, though a growing one, standing apart from the clamour of the age, far from the madding crowd.
I would like you to play a scenario in your mind with vivid imagery. The scenario: Imagine you are on your way home and your wife calls with this agonising message, ‘The bulldozers are here…we have 10 minutes to leave….uugh…they hit the wall…baby Hind is still inside….!!!’
WHAT DO YOU DO?
This is real and it’s happening in a more horrible way that you can ever imagine. Watch this video and ask yourself what is the difference between them and the young girl who discards her baby on a rubbish heap.
The point made here is that we have failed JUSTICE. There can never be PEACE without JUSTICE. It can NEVER be the other way around because PEACE flies on the wings of JUSTICE. The UNITED NATIONS as the toothless body and the ICJ, International Court of Justice, as a tied up lion are ensnared by those who in God’s name believe they are chosen. In the 70 years going back from 7 October 2027 to now, I am agonising on how do CHOSEN PEOPLE cause so much harm when their forefathers were victims of the holocaust. My common sense on the matter is demolished but my spirit is alive and rises like the phoenix of GAZAN courage.
The maddening crowd is everywhere.
In another lesson with another class, I taught Michael Morpurgo’s play, The Mozart Question. It was a most exciting ninety minute lesson. The lesson was just amazing especially when the pupils identified with the young reporter named Lesley who goes to Venice to interview world-famous violinist Paolo Levi and had no understanding of why she must not ask the MOZART QUESTION. The class held their breath when the part was read aloud with some dramatisation and it was then that I stopped the lesson and opened the field for discussion. It was really enlightening to educate the pupils on the horrors of the holocaust and even more interesting to get their views. Children are like sponges and they absorb what we indoctrinate them with – I am perplexed to know how the ordinary Israeli child is made to think and believe about Arabs that they would grow up with a killer instinct and ‘desire’ in later life to kill ‘Arab babies’…Help me!
THE WORKSHEET. GRADE 8 MOZART.(CLICK ON LINK)
When I introduced the worksheet the game changer emerged like a frighten child from rubble and it was like the world views generated by mass media were the dogs trying the rip the truth away. The juxtaposition of the Mozart’s symphony and that of the loud hum of aeroplanes over Gaza brought reality to the pupils like the sunrise on the beautiful Kwa Zulu South Coast. The pupils began to draw parallels that startled me like a fish out of water.
They empathised with Paolo Levi and felt his pain and were conversant on why they believed he had to talk about the aggression to the world. At the same time they connected with the children of Gaza and realised indelibly that they need to heal from their intermittent horror that has a hinge of eternity to it. It was then that it was important to reel the pupils into reality asking them to research the holocaust and Gaza then and now. This video clip will give you the minds eye of the children. And then…
PUPILS ASKED : Who are these people and all I did was direct them to their own platforms which we are immigrants too and they, it natives- the world of social media. (CLICK ON LINKS
THREE YEARS ON…
I have been teaching and at many points in lessons it was opportune to discuss the world beyond the classroom and GAZA featured so many times. This made teaching alive with unbiased exposure to reality. Today, THREE years on I look back and feel the statue of LIBERTY is what it is: just a statue and the United Nations too with all its branches appear to be an ‘Abandoned Bundle’ as
The morning mist
and suffocating explosive fumes
of Gaza
flowed thick yellow
as pus oozing
from a gigantic sore.
It smothered our sprawling buildings
like fish caught in a net.
Ravaged our beautiful coastal promenade
to resemble a squashed rotten apple.
Scavenging dogs of war
drapped in brown camoflage
rip a house
all because they see it as a louse
Oh! Babies in rubble
ascend to heaven away from this horror bubble
IOF strut off in the sunset
their faces glittering with innocence
their hearts pure as untrampled dew.
Alas! I never knew so many IOF are women!
After carnage they
‘had melted into the rays of the rising sun,
their faces glittering with innocence
their hearts pure as untrampled dew.
It all came to a full circle when I taught Eden by Gabriella Pinto. It is a powerful South African drama that blends psychological tension with political allegory. It was first performed at the Grahamstown National Arts Festival in 2012 by The Poor Artists Collective. The lessons were dramatic and the way it connected with Occupied Palestine was something I did not anticipate. Pupils pondered on politics and it was such a satisfying feeling because they began to think. The age of the pupils did not mean they were out of sync with the reality they see and thats when the penny dropped: injustice cannot be veiled and glorified with biblical names too. DRAMA EDEN WORKSHEET.
Three years on and I don’t know when the end will be but I do know, Gaza has made me human again and I am far from the ‘maddening crowd’ and close to the ‘abandoned bundle’ that breathes with JUSTICE!
WHERE ARE YOU IN ALL OF THIS?
– Abdullah Sujee