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The man in the army hat and black ski mask smoking a small pipe has disappeared. He is not in San Cristobal de las Casa, not in other towns, and not in the Mexican interior. That was where he once took up arms, fought, spoke, wrote, and mingled with the poor Chiapas framers who were fighting for their rights. Ten years later, Subcomandante Marcos, the most prominent figure in the Zapatista rebellion, vanished.
Maybe that is how is should be: fighters come, fighters win, fighters go. Ten years earlier, around 3,000 members of the armed Zapatista forces declared war on the Mexican army, occupied towns, and 150 people died. That was a bad setback for them at the time, but they were later acknowledged as one of the real political forces that succeeded in creating autonomous areas without official recognition. Over those 10 years, Marcos, with his unique style, became the icon of struggle, But then Zapatista made a public statement on March 24, 2014: Marcos was no more: "Marcos, the character is no longer necessary...His character was created and now his creators, the Zapatistas, are destroying him."
From his youth, Mayakovsky was an activist for the Bolsheviks, the outlawed communist organization. He once helped female political prisoners escape from prison. He was arrested and sentenced by the tsarist government to 11 months imprisonment. But this is where Mayakovsky the poet was born. In his cell, he wrote poems-and from then on he never stopped. Over time, his poems, as well as his works of graphic art, theater and film, became increasingly fascinating and brilliant.
After Mayakovsky's death, the now victorious Communist Party erected a statue of him, six meters high, in Triumphal Square in Moscow. "Indifference to his cultural heritage amounts to a crime," Stalin said.
'How profoundly you are cursed, O Granada!'
In Heinrich Heine's tragedy Almansor, Almansur bin Abdullah returns home to Granada from exile. He goes back to the castle of his childhood: The building is still intact on the 'old and beloved' land with its floors covered with carpets of varied hue; the marble pillars still stand strong. Almansor feels at home. But something makes him anxious. Life has changed. The Spanish Muslim kingdom, self-absorbed in its own brilliance, has fallen, conquered by the Catholic power under Queen Isabella and King Ferdinand.
Life is certainly not easy for Maryam-and religion is no help to her. The opposite, in fact. In the life of this character from Okky Madasari's novel, religion has three repressive elements that impose upon her life: parents oppressing their children, males prioritized over females and doctrine causing people to cluster and become enemies. And under all this pressure, goodness moves away.
Maryam tries to oppose this-more or less quietly.
There are more and more gods...
Mustofa Bisri's poems never arise from angry statements. His poetry can even be funny. Mostly, his verses are anxious-an interesting anxiety: the Muslim teacher from Rembang, a wise man viewing the flawed situation around him without feeling self-righteous. Whenever his poems are critical of society, he, too, feels the stab in part of his own life.
Pardon' cannot be separated from memory, but can memory be everlasting? Is it possible for us to speak about 'pardon' outside of history?
In Milan Kundera's novel The Joke, Ludvik seeks revenge for the pain his friend inflicted upon him in the past, when, just because of a joke, he was ostracized by the ruling Communist Party. He succeeds in his revenge, but this does not make him happy. It turns out there is another 'joke': people are deceived if they think that memory can be eternal, and deceived to think that mistakes of the past can be set right. In the end, Kundera writes, vengeance and forgiveness "will be taken over by forgetting." Once vengeance is gone, forgiveness is no longer important.
The poor sometimes resemble luckless gods: Their voices should be heeded but the world often listens to them via go-betweens.
Go-betweens usually feel they have the duty to represent them-and more often than not, they feel they have the right to do so. Public officials. Lawmakers. Political parties. Candidates for governor who are serious or pretend to be. Those busy with Twitter and Facebook. NGOs. Activists with a strong, or sometimes strong, sense of justice. Islamic teachers, priests and pastors. Or the media-including television stations owned by big business with their commentators who announce, "I was once poor."
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