Not waving but drowning
I guess it’s no surprise I’m indignant and angry about what’s happened in America. British tourists asking for help were told to flash their tits, and when they refused, the police boat speed off with those on board laughing. I know laughing and humour is essential in a crisis, but abject cruelty and dehumanisation is not, especially from those in authority. What’s the point in ‘martial law’ if the police are low life scum only one step up from the worst on the streets? They're worse than not competent. The numbers needing rescuing from the stadiums were tiny when you consider how quickly crowds are cleared after a football match. That a small number of those requiring rescuing apparently attempted shooting their rescuers shows just how much hate is in the system. I’ve always had problems with how I see America operating: this crisis highlights so many of its failings to me. Maybe it’s unfair to chastise America when other countries are doing little better, but they don’t eat up the world’s resources at such a rate to make so little happiness, wellness or beauty from them.
If you created some measure of an Efficient Nation (EN) that was a multiple of National Wellness/Resources Used, with National Wellness composed from adult literacy, infant mortality, prevalence of obesity, malnutrition, depression and other chronic diseases, and ideally, a ‘happiness’ factor; while Resources Used included oil, ground water supplies, non-renewably managed trees, and contamination, then I imagine that America would be near the bottom of the list, with only some of the African nations with high prevalence of HIV infection coming near. Sweden, Turkey and Cuba would probably do rather well!
And what the fuck is Bush doing putting himself in charge of an investigation of his own fucking incompetence? Oh yer; protecting his friends, of course, like handing Halliburton deals before the rescue’s even sorted out. I could mention so many things that have made my insides scream, but I’m sure they’ve all been mentioned many times by people far more informed than me. Yesterday, I found this journal through Porphrye, which hurt to read.
Maybe it’s some kind of nationalistic arrogance that makes me think things would never have become quite so terrible so quickly under similar circumstance here. For a start there aren’t so many guns or any cities quite as lawless as much of New Orleans was before the flood, and the poor aren’t quite as extremely poor: they all at least have healthcare. When living in smart west London, Madonna once companied about the ordinary people housed nearby (we have social housing adjacent to seriously smart houses here), suggesting certain types of people shouldn’t be housed so near to her. Well get back to your fucking ghetto honey: having the poor all caged together by their poverty only creates angry animals of them, irrespective of their ethnicity. If you live amongst the people who do your laundry, you have a vested interest in ensuring their situation never gets too bad.
Perhaps I’m optimistic: it was interesting to see how quickly tension built in London a few years ago when petrol supplies were blockaded by lorry drivers aggrieved at high prices; such a trivial thing compared to this. There’s even some talk of motoring organisations attempting a similar thing again, as petrol prices apparently have passed £1/L (that's over $8/ gallon) in some parts of Britain. I suspect, though, there’d be more of a pull together spirit like that felt after the bombings in July: even the looting would be organised and rationed by the local tough guys’ grannies.
When I hear news stories or read novels I often think how lucky and privileged I am, not to live in a time or place with insecurity from war or other disasters: I wonder what I’d take with me. What would be needed in a time of a limited disaster would be quite different from war. For a disaster it’s all about getting through the few days until you get to help. In times of war you need some things of longer term value, small to hold, perhaps tradable. Good boots, clothes in layers, a jacket with lots of pockets, backpack, water bottle pencil, silk scarf or dress and red lippy would be on my lists. Silk is not only light and keeps out wind, but also, six layers of silk sari are said to make most water almost potable when used as a filter. Lippy, because it’s so small, and if looking good was my means to survival, I’d use it. The lippy’s a weird one: apparently, after the second world war, lippy was given by the Red Cross to prisoners of war in Belson, and Banksy even did a piece of art about it, which I only discovered years after I’d decided I’d take it*. When camping, I’m often the one to procure that bizarre unthought-of essential from the tiniest bag. I was once told I’d make a good ‘apocalypse girl’. I can image that I’d not be bad. I’m strong, practical, not fussy, good at solving problems and fixing things, get on well with most people and more than pull my weight when it comes to hard work.
I doubt anyone’s got this far. I don’t do linear when I’m angry: I’m all fragments of thoughts. There are so many disparate burning wires of badness flying up from this situation; I can’t focus on which to hold onto to and pull out from all the others. I would never have made a journalist or a historian.
*Am I rather bonkers to have ever mentally composed my own survival list, or is this something others do? Surely it’s better than counting sheep?