A cousin in this room …

Walls

Without reflection, without mercy, without shame,
they built strong walls and high, and compassed me about.

And here I sit now and consider and despair.

It wears away my heart and brain, this evil fate:
I had outside so many things to terminate.

Oh! why when they were building could I not beware!

But never a sound of building, never an echo came.
Insensibly they drew the world and shut me out.

translated from the modern Greek by John Cavafy

Τείχη

Χωρίς περίσκεψιν, χωρίς λύπην, χωρίς αιδώ 
μεγάλα κ’ υψηλά τριγύρω μου έκτισαν τείχη. 

Και κάθομαι και απελπίζομαι τώρα εδώ. 
Άλλο δεν σκέπτομαι: τον νουν μου τρώγει αυτή η τύχη· 

διότι πράγματα πολλά έξω να κάμω είχον. 
A όταν έκτιζαν τα τείχη πώς να μην προσέξω. 

Aλλά δεν άκουσα ποτέ κρότον κτιστών ή ήχον. 
Aνεπαισθήτως μ’ έκλεισαν από τον κόσμον έξω.

C P Cavafy, 1863-1933

Can anyone remember why we humans started building walls – for other reasons than shelter-building? When did we first become aware that we were ‘more’ or ‘less’ than another? Did someone ‘feed’ that stuff to us? Did we dream up ‘difference’ on our own? When did we forget that ‘I don’t know you’ presents each of us with a life-changing possibility, a gift, an opportunity to get to know you, and thereby get to know both of us better.

Who wrote the divisive commandments, constitutions, manifestos that have become a part of our lives? Are they of greater value than our own lives, or the lives of others? Do we believe in the basic tenets of the societies we live in? Or do we recognise a ubiquitous ‘something rotten’ – something we need to change, age old patterns that have promised an end to war and death, catastrophic injury and strife, gender-based inequality, name-calling and suffering – but never quite get off the starting blocks. Ought the wealthiest continue to be ‘in power?’ Do we want that? Is it only the wealthy who can think a sensible thought, or practice good governance? What do we think, in our heart of hearts, about the epithets ‘winners’ and ‘losers?’

Do oppositional, confrontational politics make for good society? Is ‘the other place’ (wherever it is) a good thing or a bad thing? How about listening for a space to the leadership of the poorest and the weakest? I gave a couple of pounds to a young lad sleeping under cardboard a couple of evenings ago – in company with many others, male and female, across the towns and cities of our twenty-first century world. Most say ‘thanks very much’ for the smallest of gestures any of us are moved to make. This cold, sad young lad went further. Coin in hand, his face lit up and he said ‘Thank you so much. I hope you have the very best Christmas ever!’

‘Can we hope that present awfulness will cause a new uprising?’, asked a friend last night. ‘Can we hope that more and more of us, all around the world, will say “this can’t go on”?’ Do you think that we may ever learn to laugh at ourselves? – (emphasis upon ourselves) – one of the kindest, gentlest ways of recognising our plain silliness, utter stupidity sometimes, the sheep-like qualities of our allegiances. Are we open to being shown that our deepest-held certainties have within them the possibility of being utterly undone? Baby boys and girls are being born into hellish scenes today and we’re told ‘there’s no room’ for them, anywhere (anywhere near us, at least). Who and what story will be celebrated by millions at Christmas? Did it have something to do with refugees?

And even if we can remember why we started building walls (and demolishing other people’s) we’ll surely want to ask ‘is this working – for any of us?’

and my heart’s pounding right now …

Do you have a cousin in this room?

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