Barkeep's Blog - Vollsanger: 15th June 2020

Monday, 15 June 2020

15th June 2020 - The tears of a Clown

Thought for the day :"Thought for the day: The 'ea' in tea is silent."

LINK JOHNS HOPKINS
Office of National Statistics

This is a friend. I have worked with him on events. We provided the backdrop to his wedding with the Crimson Moon Tavern - a stunning "April Fool" Wedding. He is an exceptionally funny man with one of the biggest hearts that I know... And he has depths... I wanted to record these words from today...

"We all have them, those experiences that are carved not just into our memories, but also deep into our very souls. Those experiences that, be they good or bad, makes you, you. Well here’s one of mine.

I was in my 30’s and he was 14. He smeared the vics chest rub heavily onto his upper lip then handed it to me so that I could do the same. I still don’t know if he took my hand so that I could support him, or if he, a child who knew more about using a rifle to stay alive than he did algebra, was trying to help me act stronger than I felt, but take it he did. Then hand in hand we walked silently into the church.

There, laid out on the floor like some strange second-hand boot fair was an array of dirty clothes, watches and artifacts that may supply to those present the answers they sort. Rings boots and ripped, rotting clothing that had been peeled from bodies that were, likewise, rotting. Bodies that had been found in a pit a few miles out of town.

we walked around the hall as the vics chest rub totally failed to mask the smell of death, of racial hatred, of a genocide that spin doctors have now rebranded as “ethnic cleansing”.Then my friend stopped by a jacket. He said nothing, he didn’t need to, for I knew that we’d found that which he both feared and sort. Not the jacket itself, but rather proof of his missing grandfathers death.

Afterwards we went to the town centre where a low, free standing wall of white bricks had been built. There was a brick for everyone who was missing. In some cases whole families of men, women, children and babies, their fate unknown. Many had names written on them. Many didn’t. My friend done what everyone there done when a loved ones body was found. He wrote his grandfathers name on one of the blank bricks. No tears, no words and no emotion. Just black ink against a stark, white background.

That evening as the sun begun setting behind the mountains I sat alone on the balcony. My only company being the sound of crows and two, very well needed, bottles of brandy. I’d showered a couple of times and changed clothes but still, as I held a freshly poured drink close to my nose, still all I could smell was death.

Like anyone in that situation I tried to simultaneously do two things. Block out the day’s events through alcohol and comprehend what I had witnessed. To work out the reasons behind it all. But the truth is that when it comes to genocide there is no reason, just hate. Hate in its most simple, fundamental and purest of forms.

A hate born of fear and jealousy that was suckled on the lie called “us and them”, before being educated by the lies called “propaganda” and “hear say”. A hate that graduated with an honour’s degree in “kill them before it’s too late”.

It was only 20 years ago, in a place called Kosovo in Europe, that a child held my hand as we walked into that church. Yet what have we learned from that and countless other genocides? The sad answer is nothing. I see the racial tension that has been growing in Europe over the last decade and, like a condemned man walking to the scaffold, I hope for our pardon whilst being resigned to our fate.

But when something as simple as skin pigment means more than something as complicated as truth, reason, and love, then it is not the inedible atrocities of warmongers that scares me. No, what really scares me is the thought that, when they are 30, my sweet innocent children will be passed a jar of vics and offered the hand of a child. And in doing so they will lose the blessed ignorance born of innocence that most of you, as adults, are still lucky enough to maintain.

And that is why I stand against racism.

That is why I can not remain silent."

I also share this - from 2005 - Beslan... A tale of three clowns and how they brought some light into the lives wrecked by the tragedy... Worth a watch - but be warned - it is a real tear-jerker...