GOŠĆA AUTORKA: odriluv
This afternoon I was sitting in a park which is in the very center of Belgrade.
Waiting for my little, beautiful Nele to make three tours on a little train.
Beside me, all of a sudden, there was an old woman, kindly smiling.
"Is it free?", she has asked as she already got down, to bank. We have started to talk. Came out in few minutes that she, the old woman, age seventy I would say, knows very well the man, a bit younger then her, who is in charge for that little train.
Very simple, she said.
"I used to come here for many years, first with my four children, then with my seven grand children. All my life I spent here. And now, now I come here each and every day, all the same.."
"But why, where your children are now, your grand children?", I have interupted her, thinking in the same time for sure, but for sure, that they must be somewhere far & away. Many - still young Serbs - are somewhere away, nothing strange.They are or in New Zealand or in Canada, or wherever.
But the old lady just waved with her left hand as she was showing to me the answer.
It meant simply that they are in the streets close to park.
"Yes", she added, "life is not fair, not at all. Look at me, have a good look at me. Alone here every day while my own children and grand children are just around the corner. If I say something, they always tell they got no time. In fact, forbidden I am to ask anything. I am done. My time is over. The only reason to come here every day is the chance to talk with this man who does still remember me in much better days."
From that moment up till now I am thinking just one and only thing : what the fuck are doing all those very well paid non-profit organizations for protecting human rights one way or the other. Is there any for protecting old people - parents from the really bad treatment by their own blood, their own children?
And to say one more thing as it crossed my mind too : I will never ever forget thousands of an old, very old people in France some nine summers ago, during that terrible heat, stuck all by themselves at home and have died at home, or a bit later, in full hospitals, while their children could not make it or didn’t wont to make it by breaking sunny holidays and drive back to take care about own mothers, fathers.
In fact, they left them to die.
In fact, they have killed them.
This old woman is dead too. You could see it by her horrible sadness.
She is the ghost in the park, having only that man working with a little train, as the only true witness how much alive, may be happy as well, she was time ago.
Verzija, ukratko, za nas..
"Više se mre od slomljena srca"
Da, reč je o Tašmajdanu i malom voziću kod Šanse.Ostalo ste razumeli, verujem.
Ali, da ja, ipak, ponovim.Gde su, majka mu stara, gde su sve te nabudjene, idiotske NVO, te šitine od humanosti
koje lešinare mažnjavajući nenormalnu kintu za pomoć ugroženih vrsta.
U velikom rasponu od Cigana do Roma, o psu da i ne govorimo.
Jesu li, napušteni od svih, pre svega najbližih, od dece svoje mislim, a stari a sami a očajni a na smrt od tuge oboleli ljudi u njihovoj fucking ingerenciji?!
Nisu.Nešto mi kaže da nisu.