FOR REASONS BEYOND CONTROL

A Chapter by Igarin

"Life is a natural sequence of event"

Naming the location where everything that follows took place will not serve any purpose, other than disturbing the guilty and sullying the innocent. Because one name will automatically and indirectly, give fingers a point to lay blame, thus, exonerating others that are responsible for just as many atrocities. And as far as tarnishing the innocent, well there’s none of such purity anywhere, instead blindness and indifference to helplessness because they resigned themselves to an unfulfilling existence. It should suffice to say that this is a place where misery abounds and even the natural habit of breathing is a struggle because of high altitude, and where the bird’s chirping in the morning sounds more like a lament of sorrow and regret, rather than a chant celebrating a new day.

There always was discomfort and dread, but it took blood and tears, -literally-, to realize the truth, that to escape abuse one must remove oneself from the beast causing the harm, but before this was realized clung to the childish principle that there was no fairness…Reality though, from time to time is shocking as if a bucket of ice water suddenly dumped on one’s head and yells in one’s face “open your eyes and see the ugliness before you, accept it and do something about what is causing pain”, and in retrospect recoiled in disgust and dismay for what reality might have been, had destiny not been grabbed by the horns one night and forged a fortune without a third parties’ involvement…

The nation’s capital, is the epicenter of everything that trickles down to the rest of this nation, a city incidentally sitting high in the mountains that from afar presents a beautiful scenery of lush fauna and flora to tourists who in awe admire the striking and rustic surroundings. However, the truth is that resentment abounds for those who must survive in this deplorable-poverty- stricken inhumane place. Whose citizens day after day must face cold and rainy mornings, afternoons with an oppressive sun that rather of giving warmth and comfort, instead it stings like needles pricking the skin, and to end the day cold evenings usually with rain. The question came up once if this place has any redeeming qualities, the reply was yes, it has airports to get the hell out as soon as possible…

The people step out to face the amalgam of public transportation in a kaleidoscopic array of colors, shapes, and sizes. And these vehicles disregarding traffic signals, rush from one street corner to the next, dumping passengers and picking others up in haste to make the daily quota, because whatever is made in excess of the day’s expected take, the driver, -to whom the vehicle is rented for just a few hours a day-; may keep. Smaller automobiles, also in a hurry to get out of the way of the larger one’s rush, and pedestrians in despair running to catch that bus lest be late again for work. And every few yards a street vendor or peddler offering anything to passersby from edibles to magazines, cigarettes, and -this last per pack or single sticks for those not so addicted-. These individuals dispense their goods from metal shacks, others from wood-carved carts, and those at the bottom of the industry’s ladder, display their merchandise on a piece of canvas or old blanket, others sell lottery tickets, some with cameras taking pictures of those walking by and then handing a ticket to a reluctant hand with which to claim the picture just taken. From stores, sales people luring prospective customers with promises of low, very low prices, nowhere else in the city will you find such affordable prices, we also provide financing. Beggars abound with all sorts of ailments or sob stories of tragedy and misfortune. The spectacles of misery are nauseating, the victims expect to receive pity in the form of money, but more often than not only get contempt and disgust, for instance there was a woman who chose various corners throughout downtown she sat with naked children about her, begging for money to feed her young because she was unable to work due to her pregnancy…there were others who also picked strategic locations of the most travelled thoroughfares and displayed hideous scars from where puss and blood oozes pleading mercy for he is a dying person that can’t work, and yet has to eat and buy medicines for the illness, or perhaps a drunk, druggie, or just an insane person stumbling by and asking for spare change or scraps of food anyone might want to spare. “Raponeros”, -snatchers-, better known as “gamins, see the “raponeros” are relatively well dressed and they often engage in muggings and go back home at night after a day’s worth of stealing, “gamins” however, live in the street and if any have homes they seldom visit them they range between 5 years of age and 18. Both types of entrepreneurs will rip a watch of a wrist, a purse, earrings, necklaces, glasses, jacket, or any bag that might look as if containing anything new and valuable.

It is a struggle day after day to confront the madness and inhumanity lurking at the turn of every street corner and not for the faint at heart. And the weather does not help, oh that horrendous weather often wondered, if it affected people’s character, because the climate’s iciness resembled these people so well, vicious and relentless, but soon realized that calling them that was giving them too much credit, because they are only frighten cowards who talk a lot, but then it comes down to it they scare easily and like rats scurry back into their gutters. They didn’t deserve being held to such high standard, such was above their limited capabilities and will, something they could never achieve and didn’t even know existed, because they were and remain weak and indifferent cowards who excused their narrow-mindedness with words of serenity and would logically explain the inability for wanting more and expecting more. Always relying on religion as a test to survive hardships and that afterwards a suitable reward will be placed at their feet by the all mighty, something that they know it isn’t true, otherwise, they would be happy and always content with the crumbs they possess and must survive with. They know deep in their hearts that they are barely surviving and rejoicing for nothing, only brief moments of joy that soon are overshadowed by a harsh reality of needing and wanting more, because they feel their oppression of those small abodes in which they reside and continue adding inhabitants because they can’t control themselves and see that their already small portions will be reduced by yet another mouth, and they know they can’t breathe because there are too many lungs seeking the precious oxygen from a space already crowded. They can’t move, they can’t stretch, they are condemned to a crowded space where they can’t express what they feel because they will lose their space and they abhor it, but they can’t escape it, they can’t say what they feel, and if they think it, they should not reveal it for it may cause great grief, so religion is used as an excuse for remaining in an unsatisfactory status quo, -that in reality is the bottom line for all religions, otherwise how could nature maintain its evolutionary perfection-

“You don’t have a right to question, who do you think you are?”, mother scolded with fear upon hearing her offspring’s questioning of that all might and his supposed mercy and why had it not taken pity on one who’d just been brutally murdered. Her wide-open eyes and the fear of the question in itself and the meaning within was evident as if questioning would bring some misfortune, however, was it due to its blasphemous nature or because finding out the truth was more frightening than relying on a lie?

It was a hopeless situation, alone with so many doubts and no one to answer them, or just listen. They could only engage in pointless chatter and criticism of irrelevant matters and the only time any type of initiative or passion arose was for planning a get together or watch some pointless sporting event or any type of attraction of no consequence to anyone.

Wives, young and old gossip of supposed friends and without a second thought would spread cruel calumnies of anyone who’s done them wrong, even in an insignificant manner. Lives are made up of needs, regrets, criticism towards everyone and anything that is contrary to the narrow-mindedness that’s been ingrained in their small minds for centuries. Of course, the government is usually the prime suspect for causing their failures, but in the same sentence they quickly look up to that deity high above the clouds, and seek guidance from this almighty figure, hoping for a sign that they know won’t come, but still wishing to be the exception to the rule…Contradictions and the hope of something that no one has seen, felt, heard, touched, or tasted, together with a disregard for what stands before their eyes is frustrating and outright unbelievable. It is dumbfounding to hear these people so pessimistic towards just about everything, and then be so hopeful and devoted to what obviously is not out there, neither up down, or sideways. They believe in ghosts, are superstitious and when someone among them speak of change, or grandeur, they recoil furrowing their brow dismissing that outspoken one with disdain, almost disgust.

Society is clearly defined and there is no one to question it, there are those who live in mansions, those who presumably are middle-class, and then the low class. But those in the middle keep themselves away from the low class one paycheck at a time, anything less could mean no electricity, no water, no food. And those high above don’t hide their contempt for the other classes, and with annoyance and disgust look down on those who have less than they but knowing full well that they need them in order to sustain their high and mighty life styles. The middle snub those in the low, and those in the low conform themselves to a life of hoping and wishing, but never achieving anything except for measly crumbs. But this is not just in the nation’s capital, that will be called B.- this goes throughout the entire country, that will be called C. a place where injustice is excused with words of self-pity and melodramatic displays of crocodile tears. Morbidity and cynicism is part of everyday life, one moment they feel sorry for one just murdered and the next a joke rises for the same horrific deed. It was confusing and maddening to bear witness to so many contradictions and yet have no one whom to seek guidance from. Often bile would rise up the throat and almost vomited over everything and everyone. “What was this, why be among this inhumanity, these deplorable conditions that apparently led nowhere?”