Truth be told, I thought I should wait a few days before releasing another post, but there’s something bothering me and I find the need to vent.
Two days ago, I was exposed to violence against women. This was revealed to me by a half swollen face colored purple and black. She smiled sheepishly and went on her way. It took Tom and I a few moments to understand what we saw, and we both shared a puzzled look. A few more moments passed and her partner stepped outside of their room and with a look that I can only hope was shame, he said “I hit her last night.” A few more moments passed in silence, confusion, embarrassment and he returned to his room. We stayed there, Tom, Shauna and I, but she got up and went quickly. I fired a question to Tom, “do we need to do something about this, and if so, what”? My first reaction was that I want to break his arms, and Tom reminded me that the situation is not as simple as I think. You see, it is not about violence against women, because the violence here is mutual. The couple, both over the age of fifty, both are very fond of the drug and the drink, and they tend to lose control and express it by a show of mutual violence.
Two weeks ago, I found the man one morning with blood on his face and cuts on his hands and legs. Apparently, the woman, who was under the influence of some drug, got mad and threw a coffee mug on his head and then hit him with a machete. Tom and I helped him out with some iodine and bandages. The next day she disappeared and returned after about a week. And now, this round, she’s the one wearing bruises. Now you tell me how should I act in such a case, because I have no freaking clue. Let me just tell you that they are both from western countries, and that we are at a third world country. A country where prostitution is an absolute necessity for many women living here. Some of the prostitutes here haven’t even reached 16 and they already satisfy the appetite of old European men. Sickening, I know. Yet there is nothing you and I can do about it except being disgusted. Is my desire to break this mans arm is nothing but a need to feel good about myself? To feel that I’ve done something, that I wasn’t silent, and that I didn’t look the other way? Is this just a need to silence something inside of me? If we were in a western country, I would have called the police and carry out my duty as a citizen. But I’m not in a Western country, and I think this is not of interest to the police here. Beyond that, it is a matter of mutual violence, there isn’t a criminal and victim. They are both victims of a situation that they built themselves, and they might not know anything else.
I took a few minutes away from the computer, to think about what I’m trying to say here, and all I can think is, why the hell do I even need to think about this? I’m on holiday. Fuck them and their addictions to shit, as long as they don’t do it to my face. I have no ability to fix this or anything what so ever. I was barely able to fix myself, so please don’t bother me now with the wrongs of the world. I don’t want to know about Kony, the African killer of the month which everyone has been sending me emails about. WOW, there’s a mass murderer in Africa! Whoop Dee Doo. What do you want me to do about it? Do you want me to get on a flight and take care of it? Just give me the word. No, seriously, please stop sending me this shit, enough is enough. I read this morning that the creator of the video was caught naked and confused on the street last night. And I say, “I’ll have what he’s having”.
Two days ago, I was exposed to violence against women. This was revealed to me by a half swollen face colored purple and black. She smiled sheepishly and went on her way. It took Tom and I a few moments to understand what we saw, and we both shared a puzzled look. A few more moments passed and her partner stepped outside of their room and with a look that I can only hope was shame, he said “I hit her last night.” A few more moments passed in silence, confusion, embarrassment and he returned to his room. We stayed there, Tom, Shauna and I, but she got up and went quickly. I fired a question to Tom, “do we need to do something about this, and if so, what”? My first reaction was that I want to break his arms, and Tom reminded me that the situation is not as simple as I think. You see, it is not about violence against women, because the violence here is mutual. The couple, both over the age of fifty, both are very fond of the drug and the drink, and they tend to lose control and express it by a show of mutual violence.
Two weeks ago, I found the man one morning with blood on his face and cuts on his hands and legs. Apparently, the woman, who was under the influence of some drug, got mad and threw a coffee mug on his head and then hit him with a machete. Tom and I helped him out with some iodine and bandages. The next day she disappeared and returned after about a week. And now, this round, she’s the one wearing bruises. Now you tell me how should I act in such a case, because I have no freaking clue. Let me just tell you that they are both from western countries, and that we are at a third world country. A country where prostitution is an absolute necessity for many women living here. Some of the prostitutes here haven’t even reached 16 and they already satisfy the appetite of old European men. Sickening, I know. Yet there is nothing you and I can do about it except being disgusted. Is my desire to break this mans arm is nothing but a need to feel good about myself? To feel that I’ve done something, that I wasn’t silent, and that I didn’t look the other way? Is this just a need to silence something inside of me? If we were in a western country, I would have called the police and carry out my duty as a citizen. But I’m not in a Western country, and I think this is not of interest to the police here. Beyond that, it is a matter of mutual violence, there isn’t a criminal and victim. They are both victims of a situation that they built themselves, and they might not know anything else.
I took a few minutes away from the computer, to think about what I’m trying to say here, and all I can think is, why the hell do I even need to think about this? I’m on holiday. Fuck them and their addictions to shit, as long as they don’t do it to my face. I have no ability to fix this or anything what so ever. I was barely able to fix myself, so please don’t bother me now with the wrongs of the world. I don’t want to know about Kony, the African killer of the month which everyone has been sending me emails about. WOW, there’s a mass murderer in Africa! Whoop Dee Doo. What do you want me to do about it? Do you want me to get on a flight and take care of it? Just give me the word. No, seriously, please stop sending me this shit, enough is enough. I read this morning that the creator of the video was caught naked and confused on the street last night. And I say, “I’ll have what he’s having”.
It is St. Patrick’s Day today, and I have to get my liver ready for the task. Today, we are all Irish. Green flags color all the bars on the beach, and my palate is revisited by the old tastes of Guinness in Dublin. One day I will tell you about my adventures in Ireland and why it took me a week to get from Dublin to Galway. Anyway, I’m off to the beach, come bye. In the meantime here’s a good song for St. Patrick’s Day.