This serie of short stories is about different experiences of surviving.
The oppressed also know how to manifest themselves – there are a few thousand of them without masks, adults or children, victims of the majority, of government laws dictated, according to them, for future dictatorial purposes, to control Humans and their freedom. In the name of freedom, they send middle fingers to the outgoing Prime Minister castigating the message bearer with discourteous words. It is the elegance of poor people who lack words to express their emotions. Poor Justin receives the empathy of a voting public understanding that in the face of these undeserved major insults from a minority, the Liberal party is also fighting against its oppressors. One bit of cynicism at a time…
Monia arrives at the hospital with her father. He can hardly breathe. He shivers, feverish, his look is begging : »give me some oxygen ».
A day earlier, he had returned from Lebanon on business trips via Paris, a non-mandatory but favorite stopover that allowed him, when traveling in Europe, to take a few moments with otherfamily members, before returning to America. The night before he left in early March, he did have a few night sweats; he just told himself he was lucky to wake up with a slight sore throat and headache. Nothing a pain killer could heal Then he took a cab to the Beirut International Airport. Monia, his daughter and Marie-Laure, his older sister, were waiting for him with open hands at Orly. Time to spend a few days with his family and to enjoy the warmth of the Parisian spring. Ravid had time to kiss them and to go to their home. Claiming to be tired from the flight, he asked to rest for a few hours. The next morning, his nap had turned into several hours of sleep. When Monia decided that her father had slept enough, a few unanswered knocks on his bedroom door convinced her that he might not be doing so well. She found him unconscious in his bed, barely breathing.
Ravid left a few days later not for America, but for the morgue. Ten days later, Marie-Laure joined him there. While some survive, others leave their lives early.
I am out of my mind. I look at my neighbor in the line up going to the supermarket and wonder if he is self-aware. He doesn’t keep the two meters of distance. He stares at his phone, mechanically moving forward as the person in front of him steps toward the grocery store door. He is hypnotized by his phone.He uses his worst words to try to put the person in front of him in the right place, that is to say two meters in front of him. He wears his mask at the bottom of his nose, to breathe better, I guess. How can you blame him for wanting to breathe? I wonder about the quality of his mask: the thicknesses of fabric, his ability to respect these new social codes (washing his hands, getting tested if symptoms appear, not spitting in other people’s faces, etc.). It is the respect of these codes that we must take into account that will help us protect others and ourselves from those who are asymptomatic and still wander the aisles of airplanes and the streets of our cities and villages, on the beaches of our countryside.I curse those idiots who compare the virus to that of a flu falsely put forward as a new bacteriological weapon to better control the freedom of the people and its holy democracy. I wonder if this neighbor in line is aware that he may be a carrier of Covid 19, that all the aerosol particles coming out of his nose and mouth contribute to the multiplication of the disease. I get angry at myself for not being able to restrict myself to staying at home, barricading myself in, having to go out to run errands, only being able to visit family members via video messenger, or going to the dog park by isolating myself in a corner of the park to avoid any discussion or socialization with others. I may have a lot of knowledge, but that doesn’t take away the human in me and the stupidity that feeds off my fears. It is now 5 000 000 persons who have died of this disease. How many more of us will be affected by this virus? Who will survive it? is now 5 000This virus has now killed 5,000,000 people around the world. How many more of us will be affected by this virus? .How many more will be affected by this virus?
This year, I have heard and seen in the media that oppression has a special color in Canada and elsewhere. Especially in hospitals.Joyce died because she was an Aboriginal woman, the mother of several children whom a nurse blamed for her having given birth. She fought against her oppressors, an infantilizing and racist medical system when opportunity knocks. The oppressed may live in economic poverty, in verbal poverty due to lack of education in English or French or lack of respect for them by the rich and educated. The oppressed may also be born of social laws dictated by the authorities according to the contexts and environment of the times that build societies. They are forgotten on territories that are theirs by ancestral rights, they are displayed on propaganda policies to get votes in times of election, they are buried in mass graves to be forgotten faster, hidden by the silence of ecclesiastical authorities because they are not worth it. The oppressed have no right to running water or electricity in a country where abundance is defined by its hydroelectric dams and mineral wealth.
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