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ONE WEEK IN JUNE: FOUR PHOTOGRAPHS

David Selzer By David Selzer1 Comment1 min read6.4K views

 

News agency photographs are frequently,

by chance, unacknowledged legislators.

 

In the first – singly or in family groups,

some on foot, others in donkey carts –

displaced people are travelling north

along the shoreline. To their right, our left,

is a bombed-out multi-storey apartment block.

Beyond, seawards, are what might be tents.

In the far distance are the tall white chimneys

of the coal-fired power station in Ashkelon.

 

In the second photograph five children

are playing on the beach building sand castles –

two young boys, two young girls, and an older girl.

Behind them, perhaps fifty yards away,

is the Al-Baqa Internet Café.

 

The third is taken from the Israeli side

of the border fence – two rows of razor wire.

Beyond them are hectares of building rubble.

 

In the foreground of the fourth, two young men

are carrying humanitarian aid –

one in a wheelbarrow, the other

in his arms – from a UN centre

in Bureij refugee camp, which was

established in 1949.

 

Since the photographs were taken – not quite

two months ago – a 500 lb bomb

has been dropped on the cybercafé,

and ninety two children have been starved to death.

 

 

CLUELESS IN GAZA

For Drew Steele

 

Two old men, one with a raggedy spray tan,

the other an industrial comb-over,

sat facing representatives of the world’s

media outlets, who appeared to believe

that public pronouncements by the one

with the orange face and the white hands

were to be understood literally.

 

Behind them a high-banked

coal fire appeared to blaze and crackle

in the hearth of a mantelpiece laden

with gilded objects. The older man

had – to ‘Stupéfaction Mondiale’,

as the headline in Libération put it –

just outlined his real estate plan

for one hundred and forty square miles of land

in the so-called Middle East, a plot

about the size of Las Vegas but with

a population two thirds the size.

 

The younger man smirked briefly. Few noticed

that, in the proposal for the final

solution to Gaza’s long history of

mayhem, the number of Gazans cited

was at least half a million fewer

than the estimate fifteen months before.

But, anyway, the whole lot would be cleansed.

 

Neither of the senior citizens

mentioned then, or subsequently, that beneath

the rubble-strewn and charnel house surface

of the Strip, and its contiguous seabed,

are extensive, untapped and unfracked

reserves of oil and gas.

 

 

PROMISED LAND

A small group of Jewish Israeli settlers

has built sukkot – temporary tabernacles,

as the Talmud ordains, to commemorate

harvest time and Exodus – on a rise

not quite two miles from Gaza’s border fence.

The shelters have been built from steel frames

and tent tarpaulins bought at a camping store.

 

***

 

‘Thou shalt have no other gods before me’

is the initial clause of the contract, the deal,

the covenant. The neighbourhood then was teeming

with gods and goddesses all vying

for obedience. Yahweh’s USP

was the promise of the land between the sea

and the river, the driving out of natives,

like the Hittites and the Canaanites,

– plus milk and honey, of course – in exchange

for unquestioning adoration.

 

Unmentioned in the covenant is one

of geophysics’ unintended

ironies. The land is placed where, in effect,

the different climatic systems of

Africa, Asia and Europe meet.

Consequently, winds are unpredictable.

 

***

 

Many of the peoples of the Book seem

particularly prone to war – Christians,

Jews, Muslims – so, in this small family camp,

all the men feel obliged to carry Uzi

machine guns slung on straps from their shoulders.

Not more than eight miles away black smoke

from the latest bombing begins to rise

on the urban skyline. Occasionally –

while the children are blowing bubbles,

for instance – as the wind shifts, the air

is briefly acrid. The settler families

are waiting fervently for God’s promise

to be fulfilled, and millions of people

be driven from their land.

 

 

 

 

 

PLANETARY ALIGNMENTS

David Selzer By David Selzer8 Comments2 min read3.4K views

Against a greyish backdrop of an entire

block of concrete apartments in Gaza –

hapazardly demolished by aerial

and/or artillery and/or tank

bombardments – a photograph in Haaretz

shows a group of ten female soldiers

in olive green posing relaxedly

for a selfie. I do not know their names.

They are somebody’s daughters, who, no doubt,

would consider themselves and probably are

generally decent, and well meaning.

 

In another Haaretz photograph,

about an hour and half away by car – the time

it would take me to drive from here to Blackpool –

is a ten year old West Bank boy called Amro,

a name which means ‘To Live a Long Time’.

He has a serious look on his face

as he poses for the camera.

He is holding up a flannelgraph version

of the Solar System, which he has made.

 

I do not know what has become of the young women

posing like tourists among the ruins.

 

Sitting on the family car’s front seat

with his dad and his seven year old brother,

Amro – for no apparent reason, by design

or accident – was shot in the head,

and died. The bullet was fired by a young man

in a purpose-built concrete watch tower.

 

 

Note: Here are the links to the two photographs described in the poem and published in Haaretz on 20.3.24 & 16.3.24 respectively –

 

https://img.haarets.co.il/bs/0000018e-5d2a-d4b2-afcf-dfbe35cd0001/83/0a/07a1ddba4a94a9bc052eaacac8e1/033102.jpg?height=488&width=840

 

https://img.haarets.co.il/bs/0000018e-4466-d1ed-a7ef-55772e9c0000/ea/b3/bca7876c40a1a4f00e71ffc9afd3/55974219.JPG?height=960&width=960

 

REMEMBERING GAZA

Hitler – to avenge the assassination

of Reinhard Heydrich, the Reich Protector

of Bohemia and Moravia,

and one of the Holocaust’s chief architects

– ordered the isolated mining village

of Lidice (twenty miles from Prague)

to be razed, and males over fourteen shot.

The women and children were deported

to Chelmno and gassed. The barbarism

is still echoing around the world.

 

The Nazis en route to capture the oil fields

of Baku, besieged Stalingrad, blitzed it

with bombs and artillery then entered –

only to be shot at by snipers from each

windowless tenement and rubble-strewn

courtyard. Winter came, and the cannon-fodder

battalions of the Russian Army.

The Germans – outnumbered corpse for corpse,

surrounded, cold, starving – surrendered.

 

When the remaining Jews in the Warsaw ghetto

discovered the truth about the trains to the east,

about their destinations, and the purpose

of those destinations, those who were not yet

too traumatised by humiliation

and hunger felt able to resist.

Between them they mustered six revolvers

and built an arsenal of Molotov cocktails

and bits of masonry. They resisted

the Wehrmacht and the SS for four months,

and received no help from the Allies.

 

And, no, no parallels are being drawn

or analogies being made, only echoes

being heard. Lidice was a war crime,

Stalingrad a rout, The Warsaw Ghetto

Uprising nemesis. Lidice’s ruins

have been preserved as a memorial,

Stalingrad re-built then renamed again,

the razed ghetto’s borders marked in remembrance.

The Third Reich lasted for barely a hundredth

of its vaunted one thousand years, and never

reached the oil fields beside the Caspian.

 

Under the sea floor off the Gaza Strip,

and in Gaza itself, far, far below

the tunnels, and in the West Bank,

are oil and natural gas deposits,

enough to make all the peoples between

the river and the sea comfortably off –

unless or until the whole earth were

to become unliveable.

 

 

 

THE HAZARD OF FAILURE

‘I know that I shall meet my fate

Somewhere among the clouds above…’

AN IRISH AIRMAN FORESEES HIS DEATH, W.B. Yeats

 

For David Press

 

One of the pitman painters from Ashington,

Jimmy Floyd, explained that he had depicted

the shed in a painting green like the grass

because he had run out of yellow

the intended colour. Better the wrong shade

than an allotment without a shed.

 

***

 

According to Gertrude Stein, that mistress

of ironies, the real and only reason

for Picasso’s Blue Period was

he had a lot of blue paint left over –

though the barefoot trio in the ‘Tragedy’

on that chill shore would be wretched and hopeless

in any colour from the spectrum: a man,

a woman, a child, the little boy

touching his father with one hand, the other

stretched towards his mother, who stands head bowed,

a little apart, watched helplessly by the man.

 

***

 

The poet, Refaat Alareer,

who was killed in an Israeli air strike,

foresaw his death. His last poem begins:

‘If I must die’. He says that after his death

‘you must live/to tell my story/to sell

my things/to buy a piece of cloth/and some strings’

and make a white kite ‘with a long tail’

so that a fatherless child in Gaza –

‘awaiting his dad who left in a blaze’ –

might look up, and momentarily

imagine ‘an angel is there’.