Land of Hunger by Wayne Holloway

Author:Wayne Holloway [Holloway, Wayne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-78535-004-7
Publisher: John Hunt Publishing
Published: 2015-09-25T00:00:00+00:00

The Second Millennium

‘When you were one you became two. When you are two what will you do?’

I met my first suicide bomber in cyberspace. He told me he lived in Ramallah and wanted to be a politician. I told him that all politicians were scumbags, and that he should look at anarchist ideas regarding the organisation of society. He spat back that kibbutzes had started out as anarchist paradises, now look at them. He supported Hamas, and said that only rich Jews could afford such crazy godless ideas. I said I wasn’t rich and didn’t feel particularly Jewish. He didn’t say anything. I said that kibbutzes couldn’t have been properly anarchist because they stole land and didn’t share it in common. That gave him pause, I think, which I exploited to send him some web links to look at about animal rights, cosmetic testing and for some reason a Bedouin women’s support group site (I don’t know why, this last, probably a little patronising on my behalf) that I had just been browsing. He told me that it didn’t matter anyway because he would probably be called on to martyr himself in the near future. Although I thought he was lying, I said it would be sad if he did this, for him, his mum and dad and for the people on the bus or in the cafe that he would kill. He told me his father was also an atheist, a supporter of the PFLP, and that he had disappointed his dad. But that his people didn’t have guns or planes or tanks, all they had was themselves. I said that killing himself was to admit defeat, was depleting his own side’s forces, in fact every suicide was in fact the incremental suicide of the Palestinian people. He was in effect a deserter, doing the IDF’s job for them. He disagreed. Asked me why my buddy icon looked like an emaciated Arab girl. His was just a Hamas green flag, not very original I told him, and that the girl was a Kurd not an Arab, called Suriya, who had died on hunger strike in protest at the Turkish government’s attempts to eradicate the Kurdish language from the school curriculum. Again the spell of Culture and Homeland, a powerfully unforgiving magic. I asked him to mention her name in his prayers. He said he would. He asked me why Israel was allowed to have nuclear weapons but Arab countries weren’t. I didn’t know. I hated all weapons, especially nuclear ones. We both blamed the Americans. I told him about the laboratories near Jerusalem where they tested stuff out on monkeys and rabbits. Maybe he could blow that up for me? He blanked this and asked me my name, and I asked his. I read longlivebargouti. He read BuffTatiana. At this point he realised I might be a girl. He logged off, his avatar blinking out leaving me typing into space.

My first actual demo was outside a monkey breeding farm in Haifa.

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