Life on the Edge

Sometimes in the mail a letter from the other side of the world arrives whose contents helps put my Tasmanian experience into a global perspective. What I would like to share is excerpts from such a letter plus a poem sent to me yesterday by my friend, Bev Reeler, who now lives in exile in South Africa after having had to leave her home in Zimbabwe because of death threats to her husband. Unlike some of us in Tasmania who would put all our efforts into one issue (refugees or old growth forests), Bev has worked continuously and tirelessly over the years as an activist for both social and environmental justice because she firmly believes that the two are inextricably linked and that to resolve either issue requires the resolution of the other. Bev Reeler’s present work is offering Deep Ecology workshops to victims of torture and social injustice.   November 1, 2003 Dear Peter, During this week’s Tree of Life workshop we were visited by the South African National Intelligence Agency and a local white farmer. This followed two visits during the previous week’s workshop when 5 hours of our precious two and a half days were spent being interviewed by the South African Police on two separate visits: one from the police in Groot Marico and one from Zeerust.  They were responding to the complaint from the farmer who had seen 'new blacks in the area' - they said they were investigating a MDC training camp  (run by 3 grey haired white women!).    Today I have felt overwhelmed by the task of healing in an environment that is designed to prevent it. By the unending attrition that seems bent on keeping the victims, victims.   By the phone call from Qulani telling me of the hundreds of refugees being camped outside the home office last Tuesday, trying to get asylum - their once a week try at getting legal - only to be told that they are taking only 4 people and the office will now be closed till December.   Overwhelmed by the phone call from Nkotaso who had got his papers and had been excited at the chance of a job as a waiter - at last.  He had needed shoes for the interview - I wrote him a reference.  "They said I couldn't have a job because Zimbabweans are dishonest.”   Uncomprehending at the lack of empathy or sanctuary, in a country which was given solidarity during the South African struggle for democracy and freedom.   Overwhelmed by the constant rhetoric from the African leaders that Mugabe is a hero going through a difficult time.   Writing about the workshop in the following poem, “Late October - New Moon in Groot Marico”, has brought me back from my anger, rage and tears - to remember that there is - floating down a river towards the Limpopo, a small spark of hope.   much love, Bev Late October - New Moon in Groot Marico I sit in a circle with a group of young men -some the age of my son young bright faces marred and scarred  by torture and violation   Young intelligent eyes dimmed and darting weary and fearful   Young lives used as tools in another’s battle for power   Sitting in a circle with both perpetrators and victims all in refuge in a foreign country for the same reason   We sit in this circle -with the intention of healing   A silent line of people walking out into a deep green valley following a river of pure mountain water   walking our mother earth asking for healing asking for help in this enormous journey   touching the trees the rocky sandstone cliffs asking for healing for the courage to tell our stories   Back to the circle to remember our roots - our ancestors, grandmothers, totems - our stories of childhood of the hopes and fun and hardships how the small seed grew into this tree   We walk to the river asking for healing the courage to remember and let go the courage to forgive   Back to the circle to tell the stories of the reasons for our leaving our home the mothers, the predawn stars as they let out the cattle   We hear of the torture and the unseen scars of the burnt homes of the violence committed the raiding of townships which housed their relatives the torment the running away   different tribes same tribe different side same sides perpetrator and victim random selection look across the room   trust that they have heard the stories that the suffering was the same that this can change   We sit in a circle reaping the fruits that these young seeds have been able to gather on this awesome journey   They sit higher bodies lighter their eyes begin to meet   they speak of their courage their ability to endure their adaptability their learning to trust to talk to people of other tribes the courage to stand alongside themselves to survive a foreign country of God of hope Hearing their wisdom   A silent line weaves its way down to the river and meets in the tall green forest On a small fire we burn symbols of what we would like to leave behind fear/distrust/abused friendships   A silent line stands by the river each one throws a symbol of our hope for the future ash from our evening fire small flowers and leaves floating down the river one day to join the Limpopo to our home