Stories and News No. 1239
Once upon a time never again.
Well there are still of those, much more than you think.
They are populations of natives too, in their own way. And like every group of indigenous families, each has a sound name, within which there is all the history that needs to be known. To understand and, above all, do something better tomorrow.
Among the best known there is never again war, discovered, evoked and moreover declaimed on the middle of the last century and in a short time exterminated like the others. But also disavowed, humiliated, debased.
Equally popular is never again slavery, dating back almost two centuries, but here the crime is far worse. Because not only was it massacred like the previous one. That is, disappointed, abjured and insulted and even manipulated, recalled with other names and further, perverse ways in which to enslave others.
At the same time, there are other peoples called never again whose names they gave themselves. Like the one which Jack Krueger belonged and still belongs to, one of the 150,000 indigenous children who in Canada, from the nineteenth century to the nineties, were forcibly taken from their families and forced to attend the residential schools of the invaders.
Yes, the invaders, it is an invasion, they are invading us, because words are as important as lies. Infinitely more if they reveal the latter for what they really are.
No more children will have to go through something like this, Jack exclaimed with pain and hope. Never again, as he had engraved on the statue’s plaque that a few years ago was inaugurated as a warning to present and future.
Now, today, the first of July, in this grotesque coincidence that brings a nation, never the first one, but the overbearing and usurping successive versions, to celebrate its national holiday, we throw tears out for the inhuman violence suffered by the natives.
Perhaps it is because the ghosts of the victims are speaking, raising their authoritative voices from the criminal pits, more than common. Nonetheless, it would be enough to take a step back, even two, within one's conscience as Europeans and Westerners, as if these terms could really mean something important, and listen to the most lying lamentations of the third millennium in its honest colonialist sense: they come here from far away to occupy our lands and destroy our history, our culture, our memory; they want to erase and assimilate us, causing us to be ashamed of our identities; they’re here to rape our women and our lives; they carry with them tools of death and lethal diseases, which will do the dirty work for them; and when all will be over and forgotten, they will make us feel like intruders on the ground that brought us into the world.
Here is the worst plague of the most numerous self-nicknamed never again people, the family of alleged humans, more than men.
The one who will find himself hoping to never pronounce again the fateful promise.
Never again, yes right.
Maybe we should linger to reflect on each of these sisters and brothers, children and mothers, simple alike or hopefully such whose genocide still makes noise and stop once and for all our hand, that's right, ours, which in this very moment is staining itself with the same crimes of the past.
So that we don't have to shout or listen once more time.
Never again...
My last book: A morte i razzisti (Death to racists)