Monday, October 7, 2024

31536000 Seconds

A/N: This is a vulnerable post and not something typically published. TW for mentions of violence and war. Comments are moderated and any hate or spam that violates Bloggers guidelines will be automatically deleted. Opinions as always are my own, based in material and primary sources, and lived experience. It has been 365 days too long. Bring them home, now. Count Avera Mengitsu and Hisham al-Sayed. Bring down the IRI and its proxies to create a better, safer, and more stable future for the peoples of SWANA and the world on the whole.

 

 Like many, I do not remember the person I was on October 6th of last year, nor would I recognize them if they stood before me today, and they would likely look at me as a stranger.

The person that existed before the fear set in is gone. The one who existed before the fire and the death, before the dehumanization to extents that have not been seen in decades. Before trusted friends went silent for a time, if not disappearing all together, and colleagues formerly grounded in reality and evidence began shouting claims debunked ages ago as if they were true and discovered yesterday. Before the faces of the 251 forever embedded in my mind began to appear plastered to walls and street lights, and before those who refuse to acknowledge their existence began to tear them down. In all my years in the fields of history and archeology I have never witnessed such extreme examples of logical fallacies from those dedicated to the discovery, understanding, and preservation of evidence, material or otherwise. There are many who I cannot look at in the same way, who I can no longer trust to reveal certain information to, and the faces of the beautiful six who were so close to freedom when they met their ends in those dark tunnels appear whenever I close my eyes.

 That Black Saturday is something that I will never forget as long as I live. October, once a happy month is now stained eternally with sorrow. The images, the videos, and the terrified phone calls still are as clear as they first were one year ago. 365 days have passed. 8760 hours, 525600 minutes, 31536000 seconds, and yet here we are…still waiting for the 101 to come home, 4 of which have families who have been waiting a decade for their return. 31536000 seconds of telling the world the trauma is real and that empathy can exist for all, not just some. 31536000 seconds of hearing yells for a ceasefire and calls for more violence in the same breath, along with repeated slogans and chants by those who repeat blindly, not truly understanding what is being said. 31536000 seconds of hearing libel and violence be advocated for by the uneducated, though their hearts may be in the right place. 31536000 seconds of watching chaos unfold in one of the most difficult settings of urban warfare since the Battles of Shanghai, Stalingrad, Mariupol, and Mosul, and the grief that comes with it for all. 

31536000 seconds strategizing about how to get aid to those in need without it being hijacked and stolen away to overflowing storage areas, only for it to later be sold at ridiculous prices, to those who need it most. 31536000 seconds of watching the north burn and turn to a desolate empty land while rockets rain down on villages still sparsely populated containing those that much of the world are unfamiliar with. 31536000 seconds of hearing the world remain silent, except to place blame when retaliation occurs while the people directly affected celebrate the demise of the quickly crumbling proxies and chance to start anew. 

31536000 seconds and counting past the point of no return.

I do not remember who I was on October 6th, there is only the before, and the after.

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