Ground-breaking news! Not really, but still
And I hereby announce that I have finished English!
Meaning, an essay, an interview, and two sets of triage questions! That's about 2500 words in a day! (ok, not really impressive but still!)
Except, my interview is seven minutes
Never mind I shall put it up here so I can marvel at it on the internet before deciding tomorrow how disgusting it is. Finished essays/assignments are like haircuts, they look alright to you at first, and then they go downhill... Meh. Editing can wait for tomorrow.
A random interview
Interviewer: So tell me, when was this?
Man: I can remember so clearly. Beirut, July 20th, 1980. It was scorching summer, two days after my 13th birthday, when the Lebanese soldiers came in and took me. I was a Shiite, you see, and they were questioning all the boys, to see if they- (pause) we were involved in any militia activities.
Interviewer: But you were only 13?
Man: Back in Lebanon at that time, boys were going out to fight at 10. My neighbor was one of them. He was killed during his first week out. His body never came back… It was complete chaos; we had probably a dozen different sides alternately fighting each other, forming alliances, falling out again… It was total madness.
Interviewer: And they took you out and questioned you?
Man: Yes. They had truck loads of us out for questioning. We felt no different from common criminals- we were all little children, but they had our hands tied behind our backs, and pushed us around with the tips of their guns. We were very afraid, all cowering together in the big Jeeps we were being carried around in. Sort of like the sheep you see flocked together in the big trucks around here. (Mirthless laugh)
Interviewer: That’s terrible. Were you were all very obedient?
Man: We were. We were boys, remember. We wanted nothing to do with this, with the fighting. We wanted to go home and be with our families and grow up watching cowboy films and teasing girls and eating ice creams- So we all tried very hard to keep the soldiers from getting angry, because they had all the power to do anything they wanted to us. (Pause)
But there was one boy… He wasn’t defiant, but he just couldn’t act like the rest of us. Remember I mentioned us all squatting and cowering in the jeep? This boy- he was a little older than I was- maybe 15? - He was standing. He was in the jeep next to mine, and I could see his big, frightened eyes scanning his surroundings, like a scared animal that’s been cornered for the kill.
Interviewer: But the soldiers just wanted to question all of you?
Man: That’s right. But being questioned is extremely daunting in itself. We were all terrified, but that boy seemed beyond fear. In my opinion, he seems to have been under the impression that he was stuck in some nightmare- some adventure gone wrong- and that any minute someone would come and save them.
Interviewer: But that didn’t happen.
Man: It depends on how you see it, actually. What happened was quite strange. I was watching that boy- he was very easy to see, standing so straight there- and suddenly he jumped off the jeep.
Interviewer: Jumped?
Man: Yes, he jumped. He jumped and began running towards a building. We were all shocked, stunned, confused- even the soldiers took a while before they could yell out for him to stop. We looked where he was heading. There was a white man standing there.
Interviewer: A white man? What sort of a white man? A missionary?
Man: No… He was holding a camera, hiding behind it, in fact, so I suppose he was a photographer. Something like that.
Interviewer: And this boy, he ran up to the white man?
Man: He went right up to the white man. Everyone was quiet, except for the angry soldiers shouting from the Jeep, but then they were watching and were quiet as well. And we had about a whole minute of this- just the boy staring at the white man, perfectly still. The white man looked nervous, lost… But I think we- the boy especially- expected him to somehow jump up and produce a miracle.
Interviewer: What sort of a miracle?
Man: (Laughs bitterly) I suppose we’d been watching too many cowboy films. You know when your hero just jumps out fully armed and shoots your enemies and saves you and takes you out running into the big, open and safe fields? We thought the white man would do something like that… We hoped so. We were silly, hopeful children, after all.
Interviewer: But the white man didn’t do this?
Man: Of course not. I think he took a picture first- that’s right, a bloody picture. And then at this point the soldiers had jumped off the jeep and were closing in on the boy. The moment the white man saw the guns he ducked behind the sand bags. We closed our eyes and braced ourselves but nothing happened. And then I peeped and saw the boy still standing there. He was swaying a little, though his hands weren’t that tense, this time. And then he heaved this great sigh that I could hear from where I was.
Interviewer: A sigh? Not a cry out? A plea? A whimper?
Man: Yes, a sigh. I think he did it for all of us, in a way. To tell us that even the white man couldn’t save us. It was such a hopeless sound, we heard it and knew we were trapped, that fighting back would not save us, that no one would come and bring us salvation. I suppose the boy had finally accepted that fact, that it’s just fate and luck and co-operation that get you past these things. (Adds slowly) Or not.
Interviewer: You say ‘not’? I suppose this has something to do with the boy?
Man: Well, obviously he’d been disobedient, so the soldiers went right up and shot him. (Pauses)
And that was it. They shouted at us to look the other way, and we huddled even closer as the jeep drove us away to be questioned.
Interviewer: And the white man just stayed there?
Man: He didn’t move. I caught another glimpse of him as we were carted away. He was just staring at the boy’s body… camera still in his hands. You know, I wonder what’s become of that white man. I wouldn’t be able to live with that guilt.
Interviewer: So you think the white man was responsible?
Man: Maybe not entirely, but he was a man, he was white, and he was right there. And we were all children. From a logical point of view now I suppose there really wasn’t much he could have done but back then we were all children with our fantasies and hopes and dreams still intact. And we had that feeling that he would save us. When he didn’t, I think we all bled a little inside. So even now, even though I know he wasn’t responsible, I can’t help but feel that he was, that he could have done something.
Interviewer: It’s terrible what people are capable of doing- and not doing to each other. But are you glad that you survived?
Man: Funnily enough, sometimes I am not. Sometimes I wish I was that boy, killed there in complete acceptance of my fate. Because later that year, the Lebanese soldiers came and took my parents and killed them- and then it was very confusing but somehow I ended up here in Australia with foster parents. My life went on from there, because I’m here now… (Laughs bitterly) But somehow, a part of me has never really stopped wishing that I wasn’t the only survivor left to dwell on the dead. It’s quite painful, this…
Interviewer: (quiet for a moment) I’m sorry for your suffering, and I’m sure many of the audience are too.
(Pause)
Thank you for sharing your experiences. It was great having you on the show.
Man: (Nodding) thank you.
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