23 November 2010
Amnesty for my Home
Since I’ve arrived, there’s been a war on—a war that no one knows about. And it’s not hidden in secrecy from the public; no, it’s broadcast out to them daily, and it’s their ignorance that makes it hidden to them. If there is one thing I hate about the Australian culture, it’s something that the USA, at least in part, shares with them: immigration laws.
Over the course of the past few months, illegal immigrants—being smuggled in by ships from underdeveloped and war-torn countries like India, Burma (sorry if that’s politically incorrect), and various African nations—detained on places like Christmas Island in Processing Centers (like any other stock), have: threatened self-harm, threatened suicide, leaped off buildings (committing suicide), and, most recently, sewn their mouths closed. Why? Because they don’t want to go back.
The government is very even-keeled about it; if their refugee papers are legitimate, they will be allowed to stay under such a status. Seems rather reasonable.
Not really. I haven’t been around that much, and I’m not all that globally savvy, but I know enough to know that another poor black man in Africa, another homeless mother in India, and another soon-to-be casualty of a genocidal government can’t do much. And the less-than-much they have in their repertoire of skills usually does not include 1. Acquiring refugee papers 2. Reading or writing in English in order to properly fill them out 3. Reading or writing at all 4. Having a government with which they can lodge the papers, with any reasonable hope of their approval 5. Knowing how to properly lodge them, of the means to mail them out 6. Holding any freedom to leave the country they desire to flee because their life is in danger.
Any government that thinks people are sowing their mouths shut and killing themselves because they do not wish to fill out the proper paperwork…doesn’t deserve to be governing a nation conceived in liberty (well, that goes for the US; Australia was conceived in incarceration), or at least over a nation of free people. And my heart aches for the poor people who have been lulled asleep by this government; lulled into thinking that this is right. Lulled into believing that a person so oppressed, fleeing for their lives, would have the capability or means to play the game of proper procedure.
Get real people; saying that people are killing themselves just because they don’t like their country (and not because their country is out for their heads) is like saying the disciples sacrificed their lives for their practical joke of moving Jesus’ body. I don’t think so. They saw a risen, holy Lord, and these cowardice kids became mighty warriors and martyrs for the sake of the Kingdom of God. A kingdom whose laws include loosening the chains of injustice; seeking justice for the oppressed and defending the fatherless and the widow.
And in case any US Americans are wondering how this applies to us, perhaps you should look up the stats on how many human beings die each year trying to cross the deserts separating us from Mexico. Many of them are trying to save the lives of loved ones.
To put it simply, if we shall continue to claim that all men are created equal, and that they are entitled to certain rights, without alienation—life, liberty, the pursuit of happiness—if we shall claim that this nation was conceived in the goal of such liberty for all mankind, than our doors must always be open to those that are hurting, destitute, and without help.
But, if we are willing to throw those claims aside; to agree that upon such principles was our nation founded, but those are not the foundations upon which we have established ourselves today; if we will say that all United States citizens are created equal, and to them alone we will extend certain unalienable rights, among them life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, then I will be satisfied with our current dealings with our conniving little refugees for daring to share in the wealth of our lands.
But if ALL men are created equal, we’re gonna have to start sharing…
The frustration grows…
I first heard about the sewing of the mouths (and so had a new episode of righteous anger) on my way to get tires changed on my car. I decided to read the paper while waiting, and there found an article that grabbed my attention. The title was something about an amnesty bill for houses. Turns out, while the “fake” refugees are sowing their mouths closed, the Tasmanian government has been busy passing a law for the amnesty of building structures with shoddy construction. If they don’t meet building codes, amnesty will be handed out, so no fines for the illegal construction.
Reading this with those vile people who dared to escape their deaths in their home countries on my mind, I instantly thought of Amnesty International and became infuriated at this incredible irony of blasphemous proportions. Offering amnesty to people who have risked lives by taking stupid shortcuts, but not to people who have left everything they have ever known and loved to save lives. Amnesty International is about offering true justice and freedom to those who deserve, but have it not.
On my way home to look up the definition of amnesty (to make sure my rage was justified), I grabbed a late lunch. Waiting at a cross-walk, I stood beside an unfortunate gentleman in an electric wheelchair. He mumbled something to me, which I didn’t quite understand (or maybe my subconscious assumed it had misheard). I asked him what he’d said, and the response, as I understood it, was a simple exclamation of surprise: “Black people walking down the street!”
I wasn’t angry with him. I pitied him and his ignorance, knowing that he would probably never change. No further enlightenment would fall upon his worldview, and his life would come to dust with that shadow remaining over his understanding of life. What a sad, dark, and lonelier existence to have! What a shameful way to be at your end…
The pitiful ignorance I see in people, in every land I visit…it’s detestable, although that is not the feeling it gives me. It’s more one of disappointment of this darkness that dampens the love.
“Love thy neighbor”… “Who’s my neighbor?”… “A man was traveling the road…which of these men was a neighbor to one who was robbed?”… “[Reluctantly]…the Samaritan…”.
“Go and do likewise.”
~While we were still sinners, He endured the shame; how can I ever be ashamed?
-Colton J. Stollenmaier, M.I.A.
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