MORE THAN ONE KIND OF FLESH MARKET

The world around us in darkness

Large sharp rocks silhouetted against the sky, while I headed for the deep and nearly didn't come up again.
Large sharp rocks silhouetted against the sky, while I headed for the deep and nearly didn't come up again.
Charged electric wires hummed above my head while I headed up for the high and nearly didn't come down again.
Charged electric wires hummed above my head while I headed up for the high and nearly didn't come down again.
I learnt to look around, I learnt to feel the outlines, realising, the reality is waiting somewhere else,  just our of my eye-lines,
I learnt to look around, I learnt to feel the outlines, realising, the reality is waiting somewhere else, just our of my eye-lines,
but what if threat comes from behind, from my fellow human beings  I have been raised to respect and trust?
but what if threat comes from behind, from my fellow human beings I have been raised to respect and trust?
What if I had no idea they had something they were trying to hide, the way they twisted the facts so suddenly I became the problem they need to arise?
What if I had no idea they had something they were trying to hide, the way they twisted the facts so suddenly I became the problem they need to arise?
Suddenly I was thinking of the many and various ways in which people could be used and abused, corned and manipulated, threatened or even killed and disappeared from the surface of Earth.
Suddenly I was thinking of the many and various ways in which people could be used and abused, corned and manipulated, threatened or even killed and disappeared from the surface of Earth.
I watched my incredibly fortunate children, unharmed and loved and accepted, they are not illegals, they have my protection and also protection of the state.
I watched my incredibly fortunate children, unharmed and loved and accepted, they are not illegals, they have my protection and also protection of the state.
What if I am an illegal, running from my homeland, full of killings and death and my children, suddenly, disappear from the face of Earth?
What if I am an illegal, running from my homeland, full of killings and death and my children, suddenly, disappear from the face of Earth?
I would look at the rightful citizens shouting their rightful slogans: 'Britain for the British...Australia for the Australians, what's wrong with that?' Would I turn my eyes away or would I fight back with the last embers of rage?
I would look at the rightful citizens shouting their rightful slogans: 'Britain for the British...Australia for the Australians, what's wrong with that?' Would I turn my eyes away or would I fight back with the last embers of rage?
Would I stop a journalist taking a picture of my children's washed out bodies who nearly made it to this lucky land?
Would I stop a journalist taking a picture of my children's washed out bodies who nearly made it to this lucky land?
"You know it would come to this and yet you did nothing." Would be I able to say this in my broken English. And if I did, he would probably say: " I only report the stuff, I don't make it happen."
"You know it would come to this and yet you did nothing." Would be I able to say this in my broken English. And if I did, he would probably say: " I only report the stuff, I don't make it happen."
I would probably hide out of praying eyes and wait for an immigration officer to find me and lock me away.
I would probably hide out of praying eyes and wait for an immigration officer to find me and lock me away.
I would probably plead, explaining my nationality, the terror I left behind, my name, but then I would tell to myself: "Save your breath, he is not interested in you,  who you are..
I would probably plead, explaining my nationality, the terror I left behind, my name, but then I would tell to myself: "Save your breath, he is not interested in you, who you are..
you are the problem, the difficulty of his job he needs to do."
you are the problem, the difficulty of his job he needs to do."
He would lock me up and all around stooped figures would beg and wail: "I don't want to be sent home." I would look around on all those human beings turning into something less than goods you can buy and sell...
He would lock me up and all around stooped figures would beg and wail: "I don't want to be sent home." I would look around on all those human beings turning into something less than goods you can buy and sell...
I would be one of illegals, we will be locked up till they can ship us home or somewhere else, or get rid of us anyway they can. Plenty more like us to take our place.
I would be one of illegals, we will be locked up till they can ship us home or somewhere else, or get rid of us anyway they can. Plenty more like us to take our place.
Maybe I would try to run away, the only possible escape route for me was provided by the sea and there I would go and let the icy water numb my legs and waist staring out at unceasing grey swell...
Maybe I would try to run away, the only possible escape route for me was provided by the sea and there I would go and let the icy water numb my legs and waist staring out at unceasing grey swell...
Large grey swell would silhouetted against the sky, while I  would headed for the deep and didn't come up again.
Large grey swell would silhouetted against the sky, while I would headed for the deep and didn't come up again.
There would be no more me,  but no one would care, plenty more like me to take my place.
There would be no more me, but no one would care, plenty more like me to take my place.
' Life is what you make it', they say, and yet not everyone of us can relate to that. I can and you can, but can THEY?
' Life is what you make it', they say, and yet not everyone of us can relate to that. I can and you can, but can THEY?
 Another Afghan asylum-seeker died in Australia's mainland detention centre.
Another Afghan asylum-seeker died in Australia's mainland detention centre.
He was just 20 years old, found dead on remote Cape York.
He was just 20 years old, found dead on remote Cape York.
According to detainees inside, the Hazara man hanged himself using a bed sheet.
According to detainees inside, the Hazara man hanged himself using a bed sheet.
But his family suspect foul play, after he told them on the phone of death threats he had received.
But his family suspect foul play, after he told them on the phone of death threats he had received.
He killed himself or had been killed because there was no future for him.
He killed himself or had been killed because there was no future for him.
My son is  in the same age like him, and his bright future just opens up like an exotic flower with all the excitements life can bring to us.
My son is in the same age like him, and his bright future just opens up like an exotic flower with all the excitements life can bring to us.
He has future because he is not an illegal.
He has future because he is not an illegal.
There are more than 200 children locked up on Christmas Island within plain sight of residents.
There are more than 200 children locked up on Christmas Island within plain sight of residents.
They live with their parents in transportable cabins just a stone's throw from playground equipment behind the fence the children are not allowed to use.
They live with their parents in transportable cabins just a stone's throw from playground equipment behind the fence the children are not allowed to use.
The local's club's decision to ban detainees from playing on their oval and swings means that asylum seeker's kids haven't been able to play on the grass or the swings for months...
The local's club's decision to ban detainees from playing on their oval and swings means that asylum seeker's kids haven't been able to play on the grass or the swings for months...
They are in their cramped camp watching the local kids having fun.
They are in their cramped camp watching the local kids having fun.
The shire president of the Christmas Island's club was accused of racism but nothing changes. Detainees look with their sad eyes  through their barbed fence on the other side...
The shire president of the Christmas Island's club was accused of racism but nothing changes. Detainees look with their sad eyes through their barbed fence on the other side...
Detainees look with their sad eyes  through their barbed fence on the other side...
Detainees look with their sad eyes through their barbed fence on the other side...
where members of the local club, calling themselves 'whiteys' enjoy privileges of life.
where members of the local club, calling themselves 'whiteys' enjoy privileges of life.
And they see nothing wrong with that. "The island prides itself on cohesion," one local told me: "But they are not like us, are they?"
And they see nothing wrong with that. "The island prides itself on cohesion," one local told me: "But they are not like us, are they?"

NO PLACE FOR THE WEARY TRAVELLER


On Monday there was a murder

of an unidentifiable

but clearly foreign man,

stabbed

and left to die

between two blocks of squalid Council flats.

Multiple stab wounds,

the trial of blood

showed the victim's effort

trying to get away,

crawling towards the light,

his attacker making more lunges

as he faltered and fell.


Between two blocks of squalid Council flats,

that tend to attract only the desperate

and those

with no choice in the matter,

addicts and the unhinged,

immigrants,

asylum seekers,

refugees,

people

nobody really wants to think about,

only if something happens.

The killing is clearly a race crime,

or is it?


Then it starts,

a raid by the immigration police,

to punish those

who are already punished,

to evict those,

who are already evicted,

to lock away those,

who are already living locked away.


Policemen don't feel guilty.

They are part of the state apparatus,

that see the world

in terms

of evil – THEM

and good - US


Us, citizens,

who read about the raids

in our daily press.

We don't feel guilty,

either,

We see the world

in terms

of evil – THEM

and good – US


WE PUT THE PAPER IN A BIN AND GO ON WITH OUR DAILY LIVES....


On Tuesday the autopsy

of the as yet unidentified corps

was already underway,

the human spirit reduced to meat on a slab.

Men in aprons and wellingtons,

slicing

all those victims,

without identity,

home or name,

whose lives had ended,

before their interest in them

had begun.


On Wednesday you meet

a young politician,

his well known

Father's easy charm

had been replaces with something

much less winning,

an absolute confidence,

he was always going to be

one of life's winners

not because of what he was,

any qualities he might possess,

but due to that lineage.


I am not racist,”

he says: “But our lives would be so much easier without THEM.”

We are all racists,”

you reply: “Even me,

it is how we deal with that ugly fact

that the world is divided

between wealthy and those with nothing,

and it is so unfair.


You listen to his pre-election speech,

that our population is ageing rapidly,

we won't have enough people in the future in workforce,

enough people paying income tax to pay for all the social provisions...

So we need immigrants,”

you say.

He shakes his head:

I don't win election saying that.”

They don't get much of a welcome,

here,

anywhere,

people don't want THEM.


But you are politician,

you have to provoke people to think,

about the darker side of the world

we all inhabit.

which is rife with racism,

bigotry,

slave labour,

the smuggling of human beings,

and the clever ways these poor souls are used

as mules for drug deal.

They are referred to as asylum seekers,

but are housed in former prisons

under the most horrendous circumstances.

One of the ugliest crimes against humanity.”


He shrugs his shoulders:

Maybe, but no one wants to hear that,

we live in democracy,

politicians just express people's wishes,

who believe that we should just send,

all these black bastards home,

that our country would be paradise

if only it weren't for the 'Pakis' and 'Gypsies' and 'Sambos'...

and others like THEM.


On Thursday you visit

the family of the murdered victim

in an Immigration Removal Centre.

The road became a pot-holed

single track.

Signs warned trespassers

that they would be prosecuted.

The twelve foot perimeter fence,

guards watching your every step.

Their cell was fifteen feet by twelve,

a bunk bed, a single bed,

wardrobe and a desk.

A mother sat there,

staring into space,

hands on her lap.

Two small children draw a picture

next to her,

of open door and balls of yellow sunshine

that never reaches down to them.


The room was windowless,

the woman looked up at you

with hollow eyes,

her six years old boy

went to her,

offering comfort

with his arms.

His face

hardened

beyond its years,

and his eyes telling you:

Another intruder to let us down.”


On Friday the family travelled

in a immigration van

with a guard on each side

to the mortuary

to identify 'the piece of meat on a slab'

that was

their father,

their husband,

the only person they knew and trust.


They have been put into a strange environment,

these asylum seekers,

not confident about their role in this place,

trying to make new friends.

They have left their own country

because of daily murders

and they are displaced.

It was another culture, another country.

You yearn to do your duty as a policeman.

and a human being.

It is not easy task to ask.


You help them out of the police van,

acknowledging the guards,

walking on the street,

stares of strangers,

passing by,

you recognise them:

Local people,

who don't like incomers:

immigrants, travellers...

People who see anyone

who is different to them

as a threat.


Then you bump on others,

hidden in a crowd,

who let the world passing by,

determined not to notice,

people you pass on a street,

making eye contact

only with the pavement

ahead of them,

because what you didn't see,

couldn't hurt you.


And then,

they are others,

hiding now,

in a bright daylight,

waiting for their opportunity

at night.

Locals, bigots,

people with a grudge.

Packs of angry men,

prowling dark streets,

protecting most

of the harshly lit doorways,

identical

in the way

they see the world,

divided into two groups:

threat and prey.

This particular family,

just like the other asylum seekers,

is so easy target for them.


And they are others,

who meet you in front of mortuary,

and outstretch their hands

to help,

who tries to understand,

willing to share,

They have their own prejudices

and know that asylum seekers have theirs.

They are never tired of asking the same question:

How much common ground

we might turn to share?”

There is just a handful of them,

but it is a relief to know,

they are...


On Monday there was a murder

of an unidentifiable

man,

stabbed

and left to die.

Sipping your coffee

reading this

you know

deep down

that justice isn't always done.

The justice that you get in courts

isn't always

the kind of justice that satisfies.


YOU FINISH YOUR COFFEE AND GO ON WITH YOUR DAILY LIFE....


On Monday there was a murder

of the man,

you knew,

your friend,

your brother,

your father,

your son,

stabbed

and left to die.


Murder has ripples.

You never go back to being the same.

You look in the eyes

of the people that investigate

the crime,

the people who knew the victim,

even the murderer

and you ask: “WHY?”


YOU ARE UNABLE TO FINISH YOUR MORNING COFFEE AND GO ON WITH YOUR DAILY LIFE...


Something inside you has been profoundly changed,

there was a murder,

something unique was taken away from the world,

something that can't be replaced.

HOW CAN YOU GO ON …

HOW CAN YOU PRETEND THAT NOTHING HAPPENED?


'There was a murder of an asylum seeker

on the streets of Edinburgh,

that made me think about the Scots

and about racism

and the myth of how welcoming we are to strangers.

The crimes tend to be hidden in Edinburgh,

they are conspiracies,

things happening under cover of darkness.

It is a city in the pattern of grave robbers.'

introduces the writer Ian Rankin

his book:''FLESHMARKET CLOSE' 

Fleshmarket close by Ian Rankin

More by this Author


Comments 29 comments

H P Roychoudhury profile image

H P Roychoudhury 5 years ago from Guwahati, India

The hub is an expression of humanity in a nice poetical tone. What’s the benefit to be a racist after all life is not permanent. To day you are Australian to-morrow you may be an Indian.


Beata Stasak profile image

Beata Stasak 5 years ago from Western Australia Author

Thank you my fellow hubber for expressing it so clearly and truthfully. Hopefully once everyone will think that way and our Earth will truly be a beautiful place for everyone:)


mckbirdbks profile image

mckbirdbks 5 years ago from Emerald Wells, Just off the crossroads,Texas

What a sad story. The layout of this Hub is unique. You have told the same story twice side-by-side. The pictures are incredible. You've done a marvelous job here.


barbergirl28 profile image

barbergirl28 5 years ago from Hemet, Ca

Wow - that was horribly sad and touched my heart in a way that I never realized was possible. Maybe I always looked away, but I guess I don't know what happens over here to the immigrants or the people trying to flee their country illegally. Living in California, we see alot of different races. I try to accept them, but I know there are others that aren't so willing. I don't know what happens to them, but I really hope this isn't their destiney as well.

Very well written. I hope it allows people to open their eyes!


Beata Stasak profile image

Beata Stasak 5 years ago from Western Australia Author

There are so much injustice happening every day, every hour, every minute all around the world, we can not stop it, but we can at least share our experience of injustice happening around us...maybe we can change at least some attitudes:)

Thank you my dear hub-followers for your support, very appreciated..all the best from Beata


lmmartin profile image

lmmartin 5 years ago from Alberta and Florida

Another masterpiece, Beata. I second all the other comments made here and have nothing unique to add. Lynda


Beata Stasak profile image

Beata Stasak 5 years ago from Western Australia Author

thank you my dear Lynda for not giving up on me:)


K9keystrokes profile image

K9keystrokes 5 years ago from Northern, California

I find this work to be prophetic, carrying such impact as to make one pause and truly think. You have done good things here and your heart will remain free because of it. Nice work.

K9


Beata Stasak profile image

Beata Stasak 5 years ago from Western Australia Author

Thank you my dear hubfollower for 'wrapping up my reflection so nicely', I truly believe we have to stop and think the action we are taking...as many of them on the world scale take us away from democracy and freedom we all cherish so much:)


Mark Ewbie profile image

Mark Ewbie 5 years ago from Euroland

Yes Beata, you found your writers voice... nicely written.


Beata Stasak profile image

Beata Stasak 5 years ago from Western Australia Author

Thank you dear Mark for your encouraging comment, all the best with your writing and hubbing:)


Vinodkpillai profile image

Vinodkpillai 5 years ago from Hyderabad, India

First of all, thank you Beata for leading me here.

This is beautiful, powerful, writing with fine social sensibility to stir the most slumberous of consciences...


Beata Stasak profile image

Beata Stasak 5 years ago from Western Australia Author

Thank you, my dear fellow hubber for following my thread of thoughts and responding:)

I am very happy that my thoughts 'talked to you'...thank you again for your encouraging response:)


Sage Williams profile image

Sage Williams 5 years ago

Wow, what can I say. I'm speechless. You have a very unique and poetic way of writing. Your authentic voice is heard loud and clear, bringing the injustices to light.

Voted Up! Awesome job.

Sage


Beata Stasak profile image

Beata Stasak 5 years ago from Western Australia Author

Thank you Sage, happy you liked it. I can not speak any other way, I have found out, some people like it and some not, but it is who I am:)


Fossillady profile image

Fossillady 5 years ago from Saugatuck Michigan

Wow,it's so sad, I wish the people of the world would rise to do what is right, but it's the system and change is so slow! We are unevolved creatures in the scheme of the universe. Thank you so much for caring enough to share your thoughts and bringing light to the truth of us and them mentality! PS. nice to meet you by the way, I look forward to reading more of your wonderful work here at the hub!


Beata Stasak profile image

Beata Stasak 5 years ago from Western Australia Author

Welcome to my hubpage, my dear Fossillady, very happy to meet another hubber on the same 'wavelength'....all the best from Beata

Together we can take small steps, one at a time to change people's attitudes, once this happens...change of our system will follow:)


edmob1 profile image

edmob1 5 years ago from United Kingdom

I find your style very interseting, your pictures stunning, F/mail almost had me fall off my seat.At first I thought you had deconstructed my blog name but now I see you sputnik.

regards

Ed.


Beata Stasak profile image

Beata Stasak 5 years ago from Western Australia Author

Happy you got it, my fellow hubber...like to leave some thread to follow...just find it

more creative I suppose:)....all the best Ed and thank you for not giving up on the following the thread:)


Jason R. Manning profile image

Jason R. Manning 5 years ago from Sacramento, California

There is a lot of heart and emotion put into this hub. You pieced it together like a long canvas. Your portrait is a dark one. As the days deepen, can you paint a word picture for us that sheds light on the darkness? Very impressive layout. Like others have already said, very poetic. God Bless.


Beata Stasak profile image

Beata Stasak 5 years ago from Western Australia Author

Thank you dear Jason, there is always a light at the end of the tunnel and there is the light source behind every dark shadow...I try to be more positive to get my point across, but sometime the examples from real life are darker than my darkest fantasies...thank you for your advice:)


Jason R. Manning profile image

Jason R. Manning 5 years ago from Sacramento, California

Beata, sorry, I wasn’t criticizing how you wrote this piece or the way you built it, I was complimenting you. Please do not think that I was looking for only wishy washy truth. I think this is a great hub you put together. I was wondering if you could write one to reflect an opposite view, say you call this piece “night”, would you be willing to write one in “daylight”? Sorry for the misunderstanding, I write some pretty dark material myself. Cheers.


Beata Stasak profile image

Beata Stasak 5 years ago from Western Australia Author

Thanks for your explanation, dear Jason....I am bilingual (or trilingual?...with English as my second language I often misinterpret messages, especially ones with many interpretations...thanks again for taking your time to explain it further, and I am not offended at all...I am just learning to express myself and I am happy for any useful advice...it is a good idea to write another 'daylight one'....I am just getting ready for my European travels so hopefully 'the muse will visit me there' and after my return in August you will see my result:)

BIG THANK YOU FOR YOUR ADVICE.... I believe once you stop learning from others and you are not ready to admit your mistakes and take well-meant advice you stop 'growing and learning'...hopefully it will never happen to me:)...regards Beata


PAPA-BEAR profile image

PAPA-BEAR 5 years ago from London England UK

Soon there will be nations of Nomadic exiles, children without roots, with no recollection of childhood, just travelling, travelling, all their lives in and out of despot situations. then surprise surprise, they have children, a nation of nomadic people, displaced and angry.


Beata Stasak profile image

Beata Stasak 5 years ago from Western Australia Author

It is hard world we live in, Papa-Bear...any suggestion how to stop the human migration?


PAPA-BEAR profile image

PAPA-BEAR 5 years ago from London England UK

Hmam! That everyone has a piece of land that is theirs in their homeland. It cannot be sold, or passed on except to grown off spring raised in that homeland. If you do not return to your homrland and your own land, you will loose it after a few years. No investors from outside those lands can buy land to speculate.


Beata Stasak profile image

Beata Stasak 5 years ago from Western Australia Author

Dear Papa Bear, my great grandparents from both sides ran away from Croatia because of prosecution of some kind and settled in Slovakia but in both World Wars and in Communist times have been moved around (not voluntarily:) and now members of my family live all around Europe and Russia and in Australia....where is my piece of land and where is my home?

It is not fair to blame just people on the road because often it was not their choice in the first place...I love your idea but for some of us it is too late to find our homeland and it is not easy believe me...all the best from Beata


Derdriu 4 years ago

Beata Stasak: This is all the more chilling by the parallel telling in light and sound. The light is in the photos and the poetic images. The sound is in the incisive captions and searing prose indictments. It is tragically ironic what is all in a week's work here.

Thank you, voted up, etc.,

Derdriu


Beata Stasak profile image

Beata Stasak 4 years ago from Western Australia Author

Again, it is a subject close to my heart...happy you liked it:)

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