Terror…what was the phrase I was looking for? The Reign of Terror

France is not a newcomer or else a late arrival to the game of terrorism (if I may call it that). It is important to remember the Reign of Terror that took place from 5 September 1793 to 28 July 1794 (a phenomenon the French dubbed , La Terreur) and claimed, according to the Political Scientist Donald Greer, the lives of 25,000 Frenchmen through summary executions and 16, 594 through the impressive death machine of the time, Dr. Guillotine’s favorite gadget, the guillotine.

Compared to what took place the last 4 days, it is an event that could amount to a genocide, particularly targeting the poor. Per se, the spectacle through people are looking at the attacks is smoke and mirrors operation, that bases its premises on the plague of fantasies that constitutes and conjures an image of a descent, civilized Frenchman representing GOOD fighting a barbarian alien, unwanted and disgusting outsider portraying the figure of EVIL.

When the French Special Forces went to Syria and started killing civilians (for the second time after the relative independence of the Levant) it is known as an act of defending the core of liberalism and when people who have been threatened to lose their very existence, kind of retaliate through proxies, for they’ve their ideological firmament ruptured, it is an act of savagery, barbarism and as I heard the league of extraordinary terrorists in the West (US, UK, FR) say, relentless and vindictive terrorism.

If we could commit ourselves to the broader understanding of those incidents, we’ll definitely come to a revelation that the war (if it’s one) that is being fought between the mythomanes of the West and the eternally enslaved East is a sciamachy. It is a sham introduced to take liberalism one step further, to make it a system of ideals being constantly practiced through state-sponsored Special-Ops wherever the liberals in the citadel think they should intervene whether it’s in their colonial fetish as in the Cote D’Ivoire, our neighbor, Djibouti,or else the land of beautiful sunsets, the Levant that constitutes principally, Syria and Lebanon.

What’s going right now is like the what I’ve seen in the movie, The Tailor of Panama​, in which a desperate former freedom fighter for Panama, currently residing in a kakistocratic democracy engineered by US congressmen, CIA and Navy Seals, spat out his disgust by saying that “Haven’t you heard that we’ve got democracy?” which actually is a paradoxical description of Panama with the people living and dipped in shit.

A continent that has never understood solidarity apart from colonial obedience to its sadomasochistic gringos, could now be a beacon of hope for France…an Africa without people who could form solidarity among themselves either at country level or a continent wide solidarity could now play a game in the arena of French liberalism, a system so hypocritical and personally, disgusting to me.

When there was an attack by Al-Shabaab on West Gate Mall, Boko Haram in Maiduguri, migrant laborers in Johannesburg, the life of citizens in the carceral states of Africa, when people in Ethiopia (close to one fourth to the total population) have nothing to eat, when the demagogues at the regional organizations go on evading the infant on fire nobody, literally, doesn’t a shit. Rather it is the custom those to address the decadence in our own shitty lives with an American accent “Whatever!”, “Who cares?!”, with a fake “Good for you!”…list goes on.

It’s also surprising to notice the fact that most of the people who leave the continent for Europe, America, Canada or Asia pretend that once they’re there everything will be perfect with them. Some of the illiterate (not in Western education but in their own life experiences) diaspora I was talking to for the last eight years kept telling one story – that Africa could never be rescued by them (for as they told me they’ve to live for themselves, which I don’t oppose) and that they don’t want to comeback to their country for the “Grass is greener on the other side!”.

Let’s take a provocatively good example here. In the 1960s, 70s, 80s and 90s many Ethiopian youth left their country to a land where they think is a land of “honey and milk”. They stayed there for decades without even enjoying the mere possibility of being recognized as human beings, being visible to the people amidst whom they live. They’ve been “strangers in a strangeland.” They work 18-20 hours per day but life never gets better. How could it? Permanent fixation to survival could improve nothing. Yet I see them yelling “Democracy” “Human Rights” “Freedom” including in spheres they’re not allowed to involve in illegally like what they did at the Ethiopian Embassy in Washington DC. They’re good at honking, screaming and yelling and quarreling and fighting with Eritreans (which actually is the dominant temperament of the majority of Ethiopian Diaspora, except those individuals who work their asses of and learn to earn a better place in the country they live in as human beings). The question, where are those “heralds of Ethiopian Democracy” in New York, Washington DC, London, Beirut…when the people they consider “country bumpkins” need them most? They are hiding as has been the case during the Red Terror that claimed the lives of hundreds of thousands of the young, mostly high school and university students. The only highest achievement they’ve ever arrived at is their mastery of pranking Ethiopian government officials like Redwan Hussien, Berekt Simeon, Demeke Mekonnn whom they consider are the “monsters, the hyenas, the cannibals.”

In fine, it is no surprise that I personally, as a conservative yet surprisingly liberal in my Ethiopian context, have been witnessing such a rampant dearth of solidarity that is composed of our own values (we have some) and the rife reverence of the cliques in power together with the obsessive-compulsive submissive relations with social media sensations (whose name almost every Ethiopian on Facebook knows), whom the vast majority of my generation, the slacktivist and shallow read (as we are) believes represent its voice. It is a ridiculous idea though. Per se, how could my “voice of resentment” be represented if I don’t have one of my own construction? How could those Ethiopian middle-aged twitteratis speak on my behalf if I have no story to tell? Why should I keep on being the eternally damned acolyte to yet untested ideas of fake solidarity and kitsch camaraderie? How could I really influence what’s going on in France, if I can barely afford to help myself to the share of national history we’ve here, in Ethiopia?

Metaphorically speaking, there was once a cog, a wheel and a fly, The cog and wheel are congenital allies, while the fly is neither enemy nor an ally. And one day, they wheel and the cog were doing what they were supposed to be doing, turning over and over again, rotating in boring circles as ordered by their human mechanic. After looking at this incessant ritual of rotations and revolutions, the fly had a sparkle of thought in its mind – it wanted to stop their movement. But after dissecting through its contemplations for long, they fly came to a realization that it could hardly influence what they’re doing. And in desperation, the fly declares, “What a dust do I raise?”

The whole point I was trying to make, what the dust do we raise in the sandstorm of Western liberalism (if it’s even a liberalism at all) by just clicking on Java Script triggered buttons like the one we have already witnessed, the button that tries to buy us into showing solidarity to France (Try).

How could people without a story of their own (that’s how we Ethiopians persuaded ourselves to understand our national history) TRY to tell and sympathize with French stories? We don’t give a fuck about ourselves but we’re ready to offer our creditors with candle night vigils and moments of silence.

Published by Hibamo Ayalew

Very recently I've come to the decision that I've to say what I've to say in ways I wanted to say irrespective of the "feelings" of the mediocre creatures out there crawling the earth in search of solace where there's none. Seeking wisdom in the Desert of the Real.

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