Η φωτογραφία αυτή απεικονίζει ένα εξάχρονο παιδί από το Ιράκ, το οποίο έχασε τη μητέρα του στον πόλεμο και ζει σήμερα σε ορφανοτροφείο. Σύμφωνα με τις πληροφορίες που έχουν κάνει τον γύρο του διαδικτύου (ξεκινώντας από το twitter), το μικρό παλικαράκι ζωγραφίζει καθημερινά με κιμωλία τη μητέρα του και κουλουριάζεται στο χέρι της.
Τά χέρια
(Γ. Σεφέρης / Σμύρνη, 13.03.1900 - Αθήνα, 20.09.1971)
Τὰ μάτια ἂν κλείσω βρίσκομαι σ᾿ ἕνα μεγάλον ἴσκιο
τὸ χρῶμα τῆς αὐγῆς τὸ αἰσθάνομαι στὰ δάχτυλά σου.
Ξέχασε τὸ ψέμα ποὺ σὲ βοήθησε νὰ ζήσεις
γύμνωσε τὰ πόδια σου, γύμνωσε τὰ μάτια σου,
μᾶς μένουν λίγα πράγματα ὅταν γυμνωθοῦμε
ἀλλὰ τὰ βλέπουμε στὸ τέλος πιστά.
Τὰ μάτια ἂν κλείσω βρίσκομαι πάντα σ᾿ ἕνα μονοπάτι,
τ᾿ αὐλάκια χαλασμένα δεξιὰ κι ἀριστερά, στὴν ἄκρη
τὸ σπίτι μὲ γυαλιὰ ποὺ τὸ χτυπάει ὁ ἥλιος, ἄδειο.
Σκέφτηκα τὰ δάχτυλά σου νὰ χτυποῦν τὰ τζάμια
σκέφτηκα τὴν καρδιά σου νὰ χτυπᾷ πίσω ἀπ᾿ τὰ τζάμια
καὶ πόσο λίγα πράγματα χωρίζουν ἕναν ἄνθρωπο
Δὲν ξέρεις τίποτα γιατὶ κοίταξες τὸν ἥλιο.
Τὸ αἷμα σου στάλαξε στὰ μαῦρα φύλλα τῆς δάφνης
τ᾿ ἀηδόνι, περασμένες νύχτες, μάρμαρα στὸ φεγγάρι
καὶ στὸ ποτάμι τό ῾συρα κι ἔβαψε τὸ ποτάμι.
Συλλογίζομαι, ὅταν συλλογίζομαι, συλλογίζομαι
τὶς φλέβες μου καὶ τὸ μυστήριο τῶν χεριῶν σου ποὺ ὁδηγοῦν
κατεβαίνοντας προσεχτικὰ σκαλοπάτι τὸ σκαλοπάτι.
Τὰ μάτια ἂν κλείσω βρίσκομαι σ᾿ ἕναν μεγάλο κῆπο
Source: The Big Issue
"If this photo tells a horrific narrative in a simple way, then it has done a job more powerful than visits by royals or politicians' wives"
A photo went viral last week. An arresting image, it was picked up and galloped around Twitter.
It featured a young boy, maybe six or seven, curled in a foetal position against a chalk drawing on the floor of a darkened room. This image, said the tweets, was of a boy who lost his mother in an attack in Iraq. He missed her so much that he drew a simple picture of her and lay down beside it.
You can see why it gained so much purchase. The genesis of the image is unclear. It appears to have emerged around November 2011 and may indeed have been taken in Iraq. It may be that the child did, in fact, lose his mother. The rest has been filled in.
Context is everything – and it draws some interesting questions. If that image is stripped of the life-and-death context, does it have the same emotional punch? If we came to it without any history, would tears still prickle thinking of the horror that leads a child to behave in such a way?
Maybe, maybe not – there is an air to it that, like a great painting, speaks of loss. However, the fact that for a time it made people stop and think of what is happening in some desperate place, that it made them empathise and yearn to reach out and make a grieving child feel better, might be enough.
Because it reminds us of what observers tell us constantly. This is happening. This is happening in Palestine, it is happening in Syria, it happened massively in Iraq and it may be happening in the Central African Republic and dozens more nations.
If this picture tells a human and horrific narrative in a simple, quiet way, then it has done a job more powerful than the well-meaning but ultimately futile visits to these places by princes and senior politicians’ wives.
We have voices and we can make our voices heard.
The following is a presentation given in the Dialogue sessions of the Kuala Lumpur War Crimes Tribunal, May 2012.
"…Line up the bodies of the children, the thousands of children — the infants, the toddlers, the schoolkids — whose bodies were torn to pieces, burned alive or riddled with bullets during the American invasion and occupation of Iraq. Line them up in the desert sand, walk past them, mile after mile, all those twisted corpses, those scraps of torn flesh and seeping viscera, those blank faces, those staring eyes fixed forever on nothingness. This is the reality of what happened in Iraq; there is no other reality…."
(Chris Floyd, December 17, 2011)
A photo went viral last week. An arresting image, it was picked up and galloped around Twitter.
It featured a young boy, maybe six or seven, curled in a foetal position against a chalk drawing on the floor of a darkened room. This image, said the tweets, was of a boy who lost his mother in an attack in Iraq. He missed her so much that he drew a simple picture of her and lay down beside it.
You can see why it gained so much purchase. The genesis of the image is unclear. It appears to have emerged around November 2011 and may indeed have been taken in Iraq. It may be that the child did, in fact, lose his mother. The rest has been filled in.
Context is everything – and it draws some interesting questions. If that image is stripped of the life-and-death context, does it have the same emotional punch? If we came to it without any history, would tears still prickle thinking of the horror that leads a child to behave in such a way?
Maybe, maybe not – there is an air to it that, like a great painting, speaks of loss. However, the fact that for a time it made people stop and think of what is happening in some desperate place, that it made them empathise and yearn to reach out and make a grieving child feel better, might be enough.
Because it reminds us of what observers tell us constantly. This is happening. This is happening in Palestine, it is happening in Syria, it happened massively in Iraq and it may be happening in the Central African Republic and dozens more nations.
If this picture tells a human and horrific narrative in a simple, quiet way, then it has done a job more powerful than the well-meaning but ultimately futile visits to these places by princes and senior politicians’ wives.
We have voices and we can make our voices heard.
The following is a presentation given in the Dialogue sessions of the Kuala Lumpur War Crimes Tribunal, May 2012.
"…Line up the bodies of the children, the thousands of children — the infants, the toddlers, the schoolkids — whose bodies were torn to pieces, burned alive or riddled with bullets during the American invasion and occupation of Iraq. Line them up in the desert sand, walk past them, mile after mile, all those twisted corpses, those scraps of torn flesh and seeping viscera, those blank faces, those staring eyes fixed forever on nothingness. This is the reality of what happened in Iraq; there is no other reality…."
(Chris Floyd, December 17, 2011)
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