About Guantánamo, Evil and Christmas time.

Before i start, for those who are wondering how i'm doing, i say i'm very good, still going late to bed, waking up late and in a hurry and late for the bus. =)

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I caught myself reading Wikileaks until late at night some days ago. I was reading some prisoners’ profiles on the guantánamo’s files. It struck me how much injustice and pain I saw behind those hierarchic and burocratic papers, men’s destinies on four or five pages. False accusations and people being imprisoned under lies (you can read more on this link). When I read the section “detainee’s conduct” inside the prison, I started to think on how I would act on the same circumstances…

Let’s say Norwegian prison: individual cells, tv, nice bed and sheets, bathroom… Still, it’s hell. There’s something within these four walls that can take away one’s life, consciousness. I wouldn’t be surprised on ex-detainee’s stories on how hard it is to come back to the real world after spending years inside a cell. In a sense, it’s like being born again.

Some days ago someone asked me what I was afraid of when I was a child. Darkness, mirrors and snakes. I was afraid of looking steady in the mirror for a long time, afraid I was going to see something I wouldn’t like or recognize as being me. I couldn’t be with myself in a mirror for more than some seconds. I wonder about facing myself in a cell, for days, months, years. There’s something bad that threatens me inside those four walls. That’s, I fear, myself.

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I won’t be silly on this, I know how bad I can really be. I’m not as good as I picture myself. In a matter of fact, I know pretty well I can ruin my best relationships, my best attempts and myself in some few seconds. Evil is easy, tempting and appealing. At the same time that I try to avoid it, I like it. I’m a victim of my own nature, but I’m the one looking out for bad. Fiona Apple said it right when singing “Criminal”. Evil is on the streets, you can see that. It’s out there… And even when I try to do good, I fail miserably. Reality is much complex for a foul like me to go on with my messianic project.

I picture that a escape from this estate relies outside me. And this is a eternal paradox: human beings perfectly made, God’s best creation, beautifully and amazingly complex on their feelings, stories and deeds, doomed by something they cannot control. Still, there’s hope, longing for peace and mercy. Though, men are looking for a way out inside themselves, we are searching for something inside four walls, but there’s nothing there. It has to come from outside, from someone out there. These urges for hope and mercy do not belong to me; perhaps they are echoes from outside there, something that echoes inside me and make me feel like home, like I should feel.

I remember Paul’s words from his letter to the Romans, on chapter 7, verses 21-25, here . “I've tried everything and nothing helps. I'm at the end of my rope. Is there no one who can do anything for me? Isn't that the real question?” Paul asks. In a very clear way, he said what life has been proving me day after day. Also, reminds me of that man’s words on the cross: “Forgive them Father, for they know what they do”. Truly, I know not what I do.

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Yesterday evening I was walking downtown, seeing the Christmas trees and lights. Sometimes I think we’ve buried that voice… I hope not.

Grace be with all.