Britain has been accused of doing the bidding of the Chinese regime after UK police raided the family of a Tiananmen Square survivor for standing in the road holding up protest banner in Central London. Chinese democracy activist Shao Jiang, 47 was arrested in the street outside Londons Mansion House where a reception was being held for visiting Chinese premier Xi Jinpig. Shaos computers and mobile phone were seized as well. Shao helped organise the 1980 student protest in Tiananmen , managed to escape China, after being jailed for months, and moved to the UK where he now writes about China for Amnesty International. A totally over the top response by London's police doing the same now as oppressive forces in China. Two pro Tibetan activists were also arrested at the same protest. Britain's fawning warm reception has been criticised by human rights experts for ignoring Chinas history of violating individuals citizens rights. My thoughts are currently with struggling British steel workers about to be tossed on the scrap heap due to the impact of cheap Chinese imports, and how Britain is ignoring Chinas human rights abuses , as human rights activists currently left languising in Chinese prisons while my Government pursues lucrative deals at the expense of humanity. China's continuing infringements of civil liberties will damage the interests of the whole world including the UK. Business as usual then as Britain carries on sucking up to totalitarian regimes. Steve Bell's cartoon in the Guardian newspaper earlier this week.
( after sadly catching the news the other night, so an amalgamation of reportage.)
Aya is 8 years old, her home is in detention, behind barbed wire and fences, in a no- man's land, a landscape mired in abandonment. Aya is shivering with cold, her jacket was once white, now it is drenched with rain, and covered in mud, her brother cries, he wants the touch of his mother, her father is desperate as well, wants them both delivered to safety, this is not a place where dreams will flourish, there are no tents for shelter, just seas of misery, disturbed intersections, between what passes as a frontier of freedom.
Aya exists in this world of chaos, with her companions, the walking wounded, crumbling through the night and day, as a news cameraman pans in and out, relays images back to safe European homes, to be easily digested, in the comfort of sanctuary. Aya one fragment of many shattered journeys, the nagging pain of humanity's pulse, the drifting sadness of frightened children, terrified people, with broken hearts and broken homes, four thousand refugees stranded and abandoned, within yards of the European Union. Aya I am truly ashamed, of the despair that follows your journey, wish I could point you in the direction of paradise, support your tiny soul, strengthen your arms, stop the nagging persecution, detention, trauma, release you from the tears of seperation, anxiety and grief, clasp your wishes, send you protection, allow you to continue your journey, to a land of security and hope, anywhere from this grim wasteland, no place for an innocent child. https://iamnotasilentpoet.wordpress.com/2015/10/29/cild-of-the-refuge-by-dave-rendle/
49 years ago a on Friday October 21, 1966 , approx 9.16 a.m shortly after school assembly many tons of collier rubbish (slag heaps) swept down the sides of a Merthyr Mountain above the town of Aberfan after several days of heavy rain, Liquified and pouring down this black tidal wave would engulf everything in its path in this catastrophic tragedy.
Following Monday's post about Tryweryn, another tragic memory from Wales's turbulent living history.
Aberfan was to many a result of a conflict of financial interests, which would see the death of 144 people, including a 116 innocent children, many of whom were between the age of seven and ten along with, five of their teachers, in what is now known today as one of one of Wales worst mining disasters in it's history, not forgetting Senghennydd which I've written about previously when in 1913 over 400 were killed.
By the time the landslide stopped, it had demolished Pantglaas Junior School and 20 houses, severely damaging the Secondary School.
The sores and wounds of this disaster are now forever stored in the memories and feelings of the people of Wales because of the whole collective loss of a generation that was wiped out. So today again we try not to forget the children and adults who died, this human tragedy, that many say could easily have been prevented. The National Coal Board (NCB) were repeatedly warned to move the slag heaps to a safer location, because they were also close to natural underwater springs. Did the NCB have the decency to acknowledge their blame, to bow their head in shame, like hell no, but we were to learn sadly far too late that the NCB was ostensibly a capitalist organisation more concerned with profit than lives. A report by the government at the time said " Blame for the disaster rests upon the National Coal Board. The legal liabilities of the National Coal Board to pay compensation for the personal injury ( fatal or otherwise) and damage to property is incontestable and uncontested." The Government of the day was also extremely insensitive to the victims families, and people whould have to wait for years, for compensation.
So today we remember the people of Aberfan, a community that still profoundly affected by this disaster, one in three survivors still suffering from Post traumatic stress, nearly 50 years after this tragic event took place. People felt guilty that they were left alive, they did not feel like survivors, cases of children not being allowed to play in the street, in case it upset other parents.
Let us hope that lessons learnt from this incident can be learnt for tomorrow, and remember that this bitter legacy still continues, what with continuing social and economic problems in the South Wales valleys still being wrought because of successive governments who have made lives a continuing source of discomfort. Combined with the failure of responsibility by the relevant authorities and the appalling behaviour of some parties in the aftermath of the disaster.
Today, however there is very little to remind visitors of this tragic path, just an abstract memorial garden in the village and the childrens section in the graveyard.
Repost of this song PJ Harvey released this powerful song in 2013, to highlight the ongoing detention of last British resident held inside the US prison at Guantanamo Bay. Harvey recorded the track to help maintain pressure to help Shaker, whose family live in South London, to be released back to to Britain. Saturday 24 October will be Shakers 5,000th day in Guantanamo. First sent to the notorious camp in 2002, but subsequently cleared for release in 2007, proving that the US authorities had no intention of bringing him to trial for the last 7 years or so. This Friday will mark the end of the 30 day notice period to the US Congress that he is to be released and returned to his home , here in the UK. On the following day Sunday 25th October, Shaker should be free and on his way home. The US must keep their promise to Shaker and the world, a man who has endured all these years with much dignity and fortitude, 13 years imprisoned without any charge or trial, 13 years without ever getting to see his son. At present he is on hunger strike in protest at his continual detention and the appalling conditions in which he and his fellow detainees are held. In retaliation, he has been beaten, confined to a tiny cell and forced to spend long periods in solitary confinement. Many of his supporters are now also fasting for 24 hours in solidarity with him. Shaker must be freed and get the justice he deserves and the much needed treatment for his failing health,riddled with arthritis, combined with other medical problems, that no man should ever have to put up with. There should be no further delay to this injustice, time to bring Shaker home immediately. His eventual release will be a source of comfort and joy to the many people who have campaigned so hard for this moment to take place. There will be a protest outside Downing Street this coming Saturday 2-4 to highlight Shaker's case one more time. Shaker Aamer No water for three days I cannot sleep, or stay awake. Four months hunger strike. Am I dead, or am I alive? With metal tubes we are force fed. I honestly wish I was dead. Strapped in the restraining chair. Shaker Aamer, your friend. In Camp 5, eleven years Never charged. Six years cleared. They took away my one note pad, and then refused to give it back. I can't think straight, I write, then stop. Your friend Shaker Aamer. Lost. The guards just do what they're told, the doctors just do what they're told. Like an old car I'm rusting away. Your friend, Shaker. Guantanamo Bay Don't forget - PJ Harvey 2013
Michael McClure, the fantastic poet playwright turns 83 today, so hats of. Best known for his participation in San Francisco famous Six Gallery Poetry reading where Allen Ginsberg first publicly read Howl and his friendship with the band The Doors, he was to become a prominent figure in the Beat movement, writing poetry and plays. His 1965 production The Beard faced obscenity charges, but were subsequently dismissed.
His writing reflect his Bhuddist practice and his appreciation of the natural world using elements of typographical expression, with an exquisite sensibility. I like his work a lot, so thanks Michael, and happy birthday.
ACTION PHILOSOPHY
THAT GOVERNMENT IS BEST WHICH GOVERNS LEAST. Let me be free of ligaments and tendencies to change myself into a shape that's less thanspirit. LET ME BE A WOLF, a caterpillar, a salmon, or an OTTER sailing in the silver water beneath the rosy sky. Were I a moth or condor you'd see me fly! I love this meat of which I'm made! I dive in it to find the simplest vital shape!
21st October marks the anniversary of the opening of the controversial resevoir in the Tryweryn valley to supply drinking water to the residents of the city of Liverpool, it will be marking a day of grave injustice.
The battle began in 1955 when the City of Liverpool were seeking a new water supply. In the summer of that year Liverpool'sWater Committe announced its intention to drown the valley of Dolaneg, where the shrine of Ann Griffiths, the Welsh saint and hymn writer, stands. This of course, provoked uproar.
Magnaminously Liverpool bowed to Welsh demands and said they would flood the Tryweryn valley instead. This proved to be a carefully planned scheme to hoodwink the Welsh into thinking they were dictating where a resevoir could be built.
In 1956, a private members bill was put before parliament seeking to create this folly. The bill was bought forth by Liverpool City Council, which allowed them to by-pass the usual criteria for planning permission to the relevant landowners in the area. It would involve disrupting railway lines and road links, and at the heart of it, the flooding of the village of Capel Celyn. This one of the last bastions of Welsh speaking settlements, which had its own school, the site of Wales first Sunday school post office, a chapel, cemetery and a number of farms and homesteads, it was a community in every sense of the word.
Feelings were naturally instantly aroused to fever pitch as the notion of the English drowning out the Welsh, made the symbolism of the creation of the resevoir even more potent. But to members of Liverpool council, the farms that they were drowning were no more than convenient stretches of land along a remote valley floor that could be put to a more convenient and productive use to supply its own citizens with water, but to many was just an arrogant misuse of power, a flooding used primarily as a way of boosting profits.
Capel Celyn
It would be fiercely opposed, such was the passion aroused, on November 21, 1956, the people who had supposedly given Liverpool permission - in fact the entire community of Capel Celyn including their children, marched with banners through the streets of Liverpool protesting against the plan. It would also see a number of individuals being compelled to take direct action against the plan, between 1962 and 1963 there were attempts to sabotage the building of the resevoir, in acts of desperation, since previous passive demonstrations had failed. On Saturday September 22nd 1962, two men were arrested attempting to destroy the site, and then on February 10th 1963 an explosion took place at the site. It remains to this day, the greatest symbol of the struggle of the Welsh language, a way of life destroyed on the whims of Conservative Government without consultation by Welsh authorities, its people, or the support from Welsh M.Ps, who were to wage an 8 year battle against it. Opposition to the scheme received the backing of the vast majority of the Welsh people, with the backing of trade unionists, and cultural and religious groups.
Control over its own water became and has remained an inflammatory issue here in Wales. The political parties were to be united in their opposition to the scheme because it was considered such an affront to the people of Wales, because such valuable resources were being stolen away from the country. The agricultural value of the land was rich compared to some land that could have been considered. A feeling of great sadness because a community was being shattered and families who had lived in the area for generations were being forced to lose their homes.
Shortly after the flooding a piece of graffiti appeared on a piece of wall, just outside the village of Llanrhysted, on the way to Aberystwyth. The graffiti read "Cofiwch Drwyweryn " "Remember Tryweryn" it is still to be seen, many years later.
When on Thursday, October 21st, 1965, the Lord Mayor of Liverpool came to open Tryweryn dam ( built at a cost of £20 million) where every house and tree had dissapeared, he was to be met by a vast crowd of protesters, in 19 October 2005 Liverpool City Council finally issued an apology, but many thought it was just a worthless political gesture that had arrived far too late.
I hope that we have by now learnt the tragic lessons of Tryweryn and the reverberations that are still felt to this day. The place names like bells still ring out- Hafod Fadog, Y Ganedd Lyd, Cae Fado, Y Gelli, Pen Y Bryn Mawr, Gwerndelw, Tyncerrig, Maesydail. These bells now ring underwater and are heard by no one. An evocative image, forever stitched in time, which remembers the bells of Cantre'r Gwaelod and the loss associated with inundation. It would also feed the flames of a resurgent nationalism, re-igniting the imagination, peoples identity and defence of the language? Y iath, and would pave the way for devolution, and the strengthening and protection of the Welsh Language alongside the growth of Cymdeithas Y Iaith /The Welsh Language Society. Some would argue though that the Welsh nation is still being fobbed off, since the assembly that has been granted to them, has no real political power.
There is now a memorial on the side of the lake and a memorial garden and the grave stones from Capel Cemetry have been moved here.
At the end of the day it was not just a stretch of land that was flooded against the people of Wales's will, but a whole community of people, a culture and a language because of colonial arrogance and misuse of power. Tryweryn remains as a byword for shame and a grave injustice. Years later it would inspire the Manic Street Preachers to ask " Where are we going"?" in their song " Ready for Drowning, "
and the following much anthologised poem by R.S Thomas.
A tragic story that we must continue to share. Reminding us of our history and our land, and how it has been exploited to serve the interests of others.
R.S Thomas - Resevoirs
There are places in Wales I don't go:
Resevoirs that are the subconscious
Of a people, troubled far dwon
with gravestones, chapels, villages even:
The serenity of their expression
Revolts me, it is a pose
for strangers, a watercolour's appeal
To the mass, instead of the poem's
Harsher conditions. There are the hills
Too; gardens under the scum
Of the forests, and the smashed faces
Of the farms with the stone trickle
Of their tears down the hills' side.
Where can I go, then, from the smell
Of decay, from the putrefying of a dead
Nation? I have walked the shore
For an hour and seen the English
Scavenging among the remains
Of our culture, covering the sand
Like the tide and, with the roughness
Of the tide, elbowing our language
Into the grave that we have dug for it.
( following poem in response to actual event yesterday)
Autumn morning, playing in garden taking time out ,mooching about, cutting down brambles, trimming the lawn. In the undergrowth, resting in fallen fruit, a lone wasp waited, in flight carried poison, in pursuit, heading in my direction, released a direct hit above my eye, stuck its stinger beneath my skin. Now I sit, swollen and throbbing, mother nature, I've already thanked for leaving me, with this nasty surprise, at least I have a few remedies stored some love and affection, some healing balms the wasp simply flew off, somewhere else to face the imminent threat of death.
