Ch (5) Legal Loose Ends..

Everything ties up now.. Nothing made sense before 2014.

 Noted Irregularities in the handling of my case which were Ignored.

We have noted that  many "Kuwaiti Citizens" with any single item as below described ... are in most cases  aquitted.

The incidence of  drug trafficking occurs fairly frequently here and i have retained a great many newspaper reports about this over the years.

1)  Incriminating cash was alledgedly handed to me by police before my arrest.
This the Cid claimed and I denied.

2)  I was alone and had no accomplices, and was not at ....or near any international border or airport...nor was I witnessed by any person crossing into kuwait.

I was convicted of the much more serious offence of trafficking.
Trafficking involves arrest at a border crossing or airport... but
I was arrested in the city centre in broad daylight.
Not Trafficking !

3) I was not able to witness the said tyre being opened ,  or that it contained anything... or that it was even the same tyre.
There were no fingerprints or dna of mine on any of it or on the contents of the tyre.
The contents of the tyre were 50kg of cannabis resin alledgedly.

4)  I was interrogated alone and under extreme duress for days.
I guessed too much and knew little.

5)  I was interrogated without legal council and photographed against my will my photo published globally before my trial and conviction.

6) I was forced under extreme duress to sign statements and confessions also initially un accompanied by a lawyer and all in arabic.

7) When i was finally permitted to meet  and brief.. with a lawyer.. it was for less than an hour and also under conditions in the jail of extreme anxiety and duress.

8) I was diagnosed by two doctors independently as suffering from chronic Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

Doctor Conrad Czech before my arrest in south africa. And then dr Mohammed Yusuf of the State Psychiatric Hospital in Kuwait.
I have these reports.

They were ignored and i was declared mentally fit even as i was most severely afflicted.

9) No traces of any Alcohol or Drugs were detected in my blood or urine.. 

10) My hotel room in Kuwait was torn apart and searched rigorously without and warrant at  2am in the morning.
No drugs or tools were there.

11) My court appearances were witnessed by British Embassy Consular representatives.. David Curtis and Jihan Roshdi.
I was grateful for this care even as they were not able to do anything.
None of us knew what we know now.
It was their advice not to interfere as they were convinced  my case would be thrown out.

There was no testimony other than the arabic lawyer and the first court proceeding took twelve minutes.

12). My appeal court hearing took less than eight minutes and i was not able to brief with the lawyer over this nor to submit any testimony.

13) Company cash with me was all meticulously documented with corresponding reciepts and statements. All disregarded.

14) Basic telephonic communication from the jail 2008/9... at all times was highly restricted and then, only limited to five minute calls.

This verdict was decided long before my arrest and court proceedings were clearly only for appearances.

Ch 19 Time of Terror

Twentieth Feb 2016..there was a riot in the new prison... other side from me.
Some fellow was imprisoned for possessing a spiff.. a weed cigarette.
He was so incensed at the injustice and counter logic at being held  amongst  more drugs and addicts  inside the jail than outside.
So he filmed himself sitting with a group of hopeless criminal addicts all smoking meth inside the cells.

There are certain blocks where there are many who manage to continue with their addictions.
The publication of this video was a huge embarrassment to the prison managers and the wrath of  all hell broke loose.
By instruction from the highest levels in government.. special forces were dispatched to the prison in order to isolate the culprits and then to further ensure that no trace of any narcotic substances remained.

The onslaught was rigorous and the inmates in the implicated block were herded outside by  blackmasked helmeted special force police with shock sticks and truncheons.

This happened as Shireen approached the main front gate of the prison sunday morning 08h30 am.
The inmates herded into the back yard were in such terror as the police screamed and flailed their batons mercilessly.
The screams were heard right through the prison and the tension racked up everywhere.
Everything inside those cells within that block was removed and put on the trash heap .. trash mountain outside.
The inmates were stripped down to underpants and beaten repeatedly until they all lay cowering in silent whimpering rows on their knees with their faces in the dust .

The aircons were stripped.. tv s ripped off the walls and even the light fittings ripped open.
Drains and electrical outlets too.
No place remained un exposed and all the contraband was  removed.
Every blanket and mattress all thrown out.
Three and a half hours they took to evacuate every personal item from that block and the screaming and shouting wemt on right through the day as the wardens and special forces shaved the heads and terrrorised the drug block inmates further in the yard.
They were searched again and then re admitted to their sanitised cells.
.
Poor Shireen had just chanced on the most inopportune moment to come in to visit me all the way from london so specially.
Bravely she persevered assertively and curteously and through the most unbelievable barriers set before her.
I am so honoured to have such a friend.
I was called out of my block by special escort against all the standard procedures.
But.. they fetched me.. through a completely locked down prison.

While all that terrifying prison purge was going on... starting at one end...it was to sweep right through the entire prison.
Every day after that .. another block was systematically evacuated..and purged of all normal privelaged comforts.
The drugs blocks were  attacked with the most vigour and left completely bare.

The more select blocks  like state security and financial sexual crimes were not quite so badly penalised and were allowed to keep most of their bedding.
The block seven.. across the way  from us .. was taken out one wednesday morning.
And we heard every scream and shout and the cracking thuds of the baton impacts.
It was terrifying to hear  even through the closed steel door...and the whole miserable affair went on for another five hours as we , in our block were under lockdown.

We were also moved out of our rooms on the side of the yard where the others were being manhandled and beaten .. so that we could not see what was  being done to them.

Ok.. admittedly.. block seven is a very dirty and low privelaged drugs block so they were subjected to the most stringent  discipline and torment.
My block eight consists of selected students who attend the mosque school daily and we have a great many privelages for the price of attending classes dilligently.

Our block is clean.. well lit and pretty well behaved in general.
There is absolutely no sign of any drug use here.
Still .. our time was coming and we had no idea when that would be.

Day after day we heard of reports of the terror the others had endured at the hands of the masked police.

I buried my fone in the aircon and knew they might find it because of the way other aircon units had  been destroyed in all the other blocks.

There were no places to hide anything and most inmates resorted to hiding their fones and chargers inside their tv s.
Now let me just  tell you one thing is for sure.. these police know every hiding place in these cells now and there are no new tricks.

The weekend went on by and sunday came.... where we thought just possibly ...that we had been let off the hook..
The day dragged on by ...and we waited anxiously for our turn to come .. but it didnt.

Still .. that night,  i dissassembled my tiny phone and hid each component in a separate place leaving my trusty charger deep under my bed behind some boxes.
The next day i was ready... even though there was a chance that we would be passed over.
Eight .. nine.. ten oclock nothing.
I showered.. cleaned my room. Hid my knives .. took my bit of cash in my  jacket.
Turned off my aircon and tv.  Got changed .. went to the loo.. brushed teeth and waited.
Then there was shouting and the steel door latches oitside the main block door drew back loudly.. amd we knew ot was coming.
One little cleaner man came running into my room in sheer terror to escape the storm of  black clad ..masked special fprces rushing into our block.
I stood far back im my shower doorway and waited until  a policeman  loudly and vigorously urged me out jabning me in the back as i grabbed my jacket off the hook near the door on my way out.
Once out in the gloomy passageway we were led into three rows where we were thorougly searched.. and to my relief there were a couple of our normal daily wardens helping out with that.
From there we were shunted roughly into the back yard where we were given the same thrashing and kicking and screaming terror treatment.
Soon we were all lined up on rows on our knees and faces into the ground.
Anyone looking up got a boot in the ass or a baton whipping.
I was a bit intrigued with all tjis terrifyongly violent discipline and was pleased to notice  their caution with me .. or possibly that i had  imagined  it ?
I found a place next to the front corner and sat as still as possible.
But.. i was the only one out of the entire block with a grey jacket on and all the special forces had seen me.
I was separate but next to the trooper standing up front and he said in clear perfect american english .. to me.. to sit still .. do as I was told and you will not get hurt.
The beatings behind kept on as the troopers kept us cowered into the ground and one at a time those with any hair were shorn bald.
The trooper at the front asked me is clear english where i was from and why i was in jail.
I tried avoiding the chat.. but he insisted i talk louder so that everyone could hear.
I said it was a long story and  he said .. well we have plenty of time.
So i gave him a fairly honest rundown carefully admitting my carelessness and culpabilities.
He commented to my credit in that respect which was a good thing.
I also took advantage of the chance to mention that  embassy kept a close eye on me  and aparrently were working on some  arrangement with  kuwait government to exchange or release wanted prisoners.
And lastly that i was sure they would let me go soon.

Then he asked me to follow him and the guy in a wheelchair to the back where i had to get my already bald  head shaved by the filthy diseased clipper machine.
Then i was redirected to a position near the wheelchair inmate once again separate from  the main group on the back corner where i sat with my head between knees drawn up tight..
The air was cool and there was a breeze.
I was just waiting for one of them to kick me or baton me.. i  would not object.. but it would be a part of the adventure which would glow with authenticity.
Gladly.. it didnt happen.. i behaved as well as i could.
And.. i think someone had said something to them about me.

The stony ground was hard and all of our backs were aching.. and over two hours in this prolonged nose in the filthy ground position was hard going.. but the threat of a baton whipping kept us all dead still.
Remember.. these are dangerous criminals that these troopers are handling and given half the chance these criminals would do something stupid like attacking a warden.
So they have to be tough and stick to standard prcedures.. and with us.. they did that.. and actually they were very soft on us.
They even handed out water and juice which incidently had been commandeered from someones cell.

The english trooper asked me  if i was cold  and i said no..
He asked me why i was shivering.. was i scared.. i replied.  "Yes.. a bit"

We sat for another twenty minutes or so as others had their heads shaved and the troopers inside our block continued with their savage destruction of our cells.

I listened as i sat there and heard the pidgeons high up roosting in the roof.. the crashing of the troopers on my cell i was sure.. the sound of a passenger jet high up where drinks were being served and the idle chatter of the wardens amongst themselves behind me.

The small stones dug deeply unto my bum and then we were all told to stand and stretch legs.
My back complained like an old
On chap .. my chef friend ali.. collapsed in a faint and was carried out by four inmates to the hospital for some attention.
Another chap who had managed to get permission to grow his hair because of a scalp disease was whipped mercilessly and shorn bald because he had no doctors letter.
The  block search was completed and i was led out of the yard first. The english trooper said to me to follow him.
As if.. he was looking after me?
I was grateful and followed closely and he said to get in my cell..look down and dont look round.
When i was in there another walked by and said to me to sit on the bare floor.
Bare because all my carpeting pieces and blanket floor covers were thrown on a huge pile outside my door.
It was an indescribable mess.. all the contents of all the cells thrown into the middle of the block.
And one by one all the inmates were searched and let in to the block again where they clawed their way like i did over the piles of bedding and boxes and food and appliances and just so much as they went back to their cells.
It was with great relief because the ordeal was over all of a sudden.
The  main door boomed shut.. and we knew the troopers were gone..
But we had one hell of a mess to clear up..
But..
One thing lay on top priority.
Had my phone been located?
Quickly i went to run my hand into the groove and to my relief.. there it was still.. and its charging cables.
I just left it there and was just so relieved .. everything else just didnt matter.
I sat down in a wrecked relieved heap and gathered my wits as i tried to figure out where to start.
My tv was gone and had to be collected grom a trolley outside.
My cables were all gone too.. but  i just didnt care.. my phone and charger were miraculously all safe and sound.
Itcwas about three pm  and i started washing all my towels clothes and floor blanket.
I did this so that it could dry while i tidied my room.
Took ages .. but it was good to have a spring clean and to reset my kitchen area.
The ordeal is over.. at least for a while.. others were not so lucky as many lost their phones far more expensive than mine.
They will have new ones by next month..

Ch (14) Accolades Posponed

How many days ive missed your face.

Your silence and my solitude

Whatever did they tell you to have held your resolve so implacably

How i longed to regain my place.

My heart with so many gifts long overdue

But its all gone now, it went so fast

What could have been, just never was.

How many years Ive failed this race.

Seeing so many others around me

So proud of their sons, but mine lost

And I, to such misplaced disdain, resigned

Your praises so many, left unsaid.

And so many.. im sure unseen

But your door stays closed

My muted call declined.. denied

My longing, and knowing that

Nothing lasts forever

Excepting  my love
Michael

Hell Hath No Fury....

Letters from Friends

Eddie Bernhardi
Gareth, you know, we just carry on with our normal lives every day, as if everything is okay, we are all so self focused and self centered. Just accepting everything as logical and automatically working out well. Until I get into bed tonight and see that you have liked one of my posts sharing a Sunday afternoon braai with friends and family and then the whole thing jerks me to a halt !! I then suddenly realise that there are you, Gareth, not having the luxuries that we so take for granted. Not having a braai, not having family and friends to socialise with. It almost makes me feel guilty....but I know it shouldn't. But it does. Tonight I just want to tell you and share with you my feelings and respect for you and the situation you are in. There are so many of us that think if you, pray for you, are with you in spirit. You share our joys with us on facebook. But you know what...every day that passes is a day closer to your freedom. That is for sure. We all know that and believe that.....all of us who are your facebook friends. And you believe it too.....I know it. Be strong Gareth...always on our minds and thoughts. Keep it up partner.....and may I have the privilage to personally shake your hand one day...

Thank you so much for your letter, it is perfect...I can print it from here and scan it in with all the rest once we have received them all.  It is so great to be joining as a network of friends and family for Gareth and I thank you so much.

I promise to keep everyone updated as we continue on this journey.  I am hopeful that there really is a great light at the end of this tunnel

TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN

I write to you, in plea with regards to Gareth Timothy Rutherford who is a British citizen, under the care of the British Embassy and is imprisoned in Kuwait and has been there for the past six years.  

We understand Gareth has discussed with you the details of his imprisonment, from his arrest, right through all of these long years, details of which he shares in his blog http://gareth54.blogspot.com/?m=1

We understand you are limited in your influence and we as old friends are very much hoping that a mass appeal in writing would somehow help to secure some additional help.

We make an urgent plea to you, this is a man who is no danger to society, missing out on living the very best days of his life.

Gareth worked as a engineer, both in South Africa and abroad.  He was a respected colleague and friend to everyone, always willing to go the extra mile and give a helping hand wherever he could.  Sadly, this very kind nature, willing to help any friend, was his demise and we are all desperate for him to be able to leave his Kuwait prison on compassionate grounds.

I have known Gareth since I was 12 years old, more dedicated husbands, friends and fathers are hard to find.  Gareth only went abroad to work for much better remuneration, to give his wife a better life and his son a private education.  
He seldom drank and never did drugs, being vehemently opposed and saved many of our teenage friends from falling into regular drug use.  In fact his drug of choice, were at least 2 pots of english tea a day!

Gareth's mother is now extremely ill,  in a government hospital and desperate to see her oldest son.  His father is very elderly, quite fit but getting frail.  
Gareth's wife has divorced him, she lives in Cape Town South Africa and allows no contact with his 16 year old son, in fact he has had no contact with his son since his incarceration 6 years ago.  
This is very sad as Gareth so desperately needed his wife's support over these years.  

Please please consider giving an exceptionally good man some additional assistance, he really yearns to see his mother before she dies and to use his last few productive years wisely, to make up to all his loved ones.

Please any additional information, do not hesitate to contact me.

Yours sincerely
Tania du Plooy

0027823736664 CT

002482792770 Seychelles

Dear Gareth

Know that your time there is coming to an end. God is preparing you for the time when you are out of there. You will see that every moment in Kuwait meant preparation for the day you are together again with family and friends. You just remember you can and must hold your head up high. You are the son of the King of Kings. You are a co-heir with Christ. You are above and not beneath, you have been bought with a price and protected with a blood covenant. Your are the apple of His eye. So enjoy your time there as it is coming to and end in Jesus Name.

Gareth, I have such great memories of you and your brothers and admiration for the respect you guys always showed us girls when growing up. Much like our silent big brothers, so to speak. This is more than can be said for some of those who grew up with us in Kalk Bay. I feel that these connections are never lost. Your parents were such kind and soulful people. I didn't know much about your dad but Your mum kept us entertained at art classes with Peggy North and co. She was such a lovely lady. Treated us like her own.
Shushed us to sleep when we were tired and safely dropped us at home.
Such fond memories of her and Peggy.
I think I remember you driving that Tartan bakkie and ALWAYS smiled or greeted us.
We interacted often with Tammy and Peter through Alison, Sean and Robin.
You are a part of our history and that deserves remembering and honouring. You may not know it, but we quietly felt safe in our community because of people like you and your family.
So it is, again, I who should thank you for the silent reassurance of safety, respect and the smiles.
Lyn marie adams

Instead of protecting me ! Of all that detail .... I told u ; I knew it was going to hurt me .... Now it's in my brain , and in my imagination .....
I drowned with u reading those lines .... Do u hate me ! While I was trying to bring joy to u in every way I knew .... I was going to record the sounds of the early morning symphony when the birds start singing ...
As if it's not enough feeling Jesus's passion of this month ... I used to think one day I was going to have the stigmata .,.. And now u and your writings ... What did I do ... U still do not know how I somehow can feel and see other people's sufferings , and that pulled me down ; and I try to go up .. up like a butterfly flapping my colorful wings to put smiles on every persons face .... Then something like this puts the arrow in my heart and I fall from my height recognizing that I can do nothing because I am just a corpse !

I have cut and pasted this from messages i sent to your facebook page some days ago. Which it seems you may not have received or read.???I have more to discuss when you. Reply to this....Tillers, many thanks for the warm encouragement. I really felt a bit pathetic whining like that when in actual fact I am so privelaged and well looked after here. Bonz will bear this out when he updates you. I was so takenaback and humbled by the rallying support and encouragement that continues to bless me. Im walking on air. We had three good visit sessions in Bosses private offices and I was so specially pleased to see dad looking so fit and relaxed.
Last time things not so familiar were quite bewildering even with the consular staff leading the way. Some big hugs and time enough to get through all that needed saying. This mail connection continues to forge a pathway to so many in every corner of the world.
Susie now with new ipad in daily contact and getting tec savvy.
Well that may take a little while yet.tsk . Miracles around me every day and I am covered by continuous prayers by so many and more I dont even know. It is so visible and active and I go with the flow, its way easier.
More join with me every day and I share with them as much as I can about everything and its so liberating.
Some I gather still feel a bit awkward about the whole debacle, but Ive got over that and readily launch into detailed or shortened exerpts of what happened then and now.
All this info is disseminating fast and I get more sanguine, relaxed and confident as the info, so long confused and suppressed, is finally pieced together and coherently presented.
Yes its too late now to protest but I will have my turn to testify and to confess to my many failings with relish !!.
Debra visits Susie and smss me quite often.
And we're both on fbook.
I am a bit timid at times and rarely initiate contacts. Learnt that Im divorced which was news and a relief.
Still no contact with Mike or L, but not through lack of trying. So many are now aware of this drive, to penetrate L's iron curtain, I must be patient so as not to put the brainwashed kid into any awkward corner with his mom. It will resolve in its own time and I will share that too with all who have shown so much care.
So at great risk of boring you I have gone on a bit longer than I had intended but had to think of a better way to make up for my inconsiderate silence and to thank you for keeping the wheels on with susie, my dad, and all the mess ive caused.
Also greatly bouyed along by your encouragement and kind words. Much love to you and Jennetta,
best
G

Tillers..!!
Many thanks for the news and encouragement. I sometimes have a bad signal in my room so only pick up mail and news when i get up close to the well concealed routers here boosting our fones.
Its been great now susie has an ipad but we both are a bit slow on the uptake of all this new technology.
Im now so much better having such communcation freedom after so many years in the dark.
I even get ebooks from friends.
This device is a bit small but im used to it already. Im in touch with so many every day i hardly ever get out my room. Bonzo and tams visit was nice but now we have daily comms far more relaxed and easy.
Linda has gone her own way which im quite pleased about.
Debra drops me a line every now and again. I can send mail to gerard or warren hoek for bonzo but ive been a bit slack about that. Kim and yianni from fhoek continue to visit me here every 2weeks and bring me bit that i need. There is nothing that i really need but if i can get something nice every now and again.. i dont really need to martyr myself .. i get it.
Marmite.. pbutter.. slippers.. watch and radio. Rechg batteries.
Yianni brings all.. but the managers here all run the extra mile for me and my visitors , and have good relnshp with annie and co from uk emb.
I have been a bit slack about keeping in touch with south afr emb since maria left but i will give them a ring when the election dust settles.
Susie may have forwarded some of my rambling mails which i am pleased she does. I have been watching with great interest the progress of Shani Krebs.. a saffa who was jailed for 18yrs. He wrote a book which has only recently come out.. about his journey and his new life. 
I was initially a bit sceptical but have been following the whole thing on fbook and bookclub reviews.. and huge interest.. encouragement and joy by thousands. Hes also a pretty good artist and produced quite a lot of works while in prison.
He has also made many friends amongst his wardens much like i have here. Anyway.. there is so much interesting stuff on the net.. but whatever happens.. clearly i must definitely keep up with my journals even though mostly i cover everything in my net mails.. sms.. messegers.. and fbk links.
I prefer to send this in chunks because i hate losing any of it and can never rewrite it like the first time. Also this tiny mobile keyboard is so much slower than a pc or laptop and plagued with typos which take even longer to repair. Tam and bonz said that my 100 monthly pounds will reduce to half sometime soon. Nick frank gavin behr and yianni have been chipping in huge amounts and im really a bit spoilt with so much more than i need. 
This phone is a galaxy s5301 costing about 80dollars outside.
But in here i paid equivalent of 280kd or. $955. Heavens about 12 thousand rand.!!!
Anyway.. as things go here.. im reasonably comfortable and well adapted.
Boarding school.. army.. and 5yrs of basra sort of got me pretty well acclimatised to living amongst this lot of creepy crawlies..
My friends room where i sit to get better net performance.
Fridge mwave bigtv.. and more .
We are very spoilt here.
Police just did a quick walk through so there was as always a bit of a scuffle as all the fones get buried.
As it happens.. some of them are so kind and turn a blind eye.. often sitting down for tea and a bit of banter.
My block... this block.. 3 has about  50 inmates in for crimes right across the range.
Murder..rape.. fraud.. bombers.. drugdealers and traffickers all bundled together.
To get into this block.. one has to have a referee quite high up and so the make up is quite clear of bad apples.
We are not subjected to searches as intense or as frequent as the other blocks.
When they come to my room.. they dont touch anything when other rooms look like hiroshima.
Well it wasnt always like that but as time has gone by.. my reputation and privelages have improved.
So i may make it sound so nice but its what you make of it.
I dont have to sit in rush hour traffic.
And im taking it easy one day at a time and soaking up all the friends and their lives and the cascades of support and concern.9pm.. we are locked in our separate cells.
Some 6 .. some 4.. some 2.
And some like me.. alone. 
Its so much better because mostly they all behave like our mine workers or road gangers and have very warped idea of hygiene.
I stay quiet and set what i think is a good example. .. because they watch my every move.
They see all that i do and hate me for my comfortable capability.. but say nothing.
Im mr fixit here.. like everywhere.. and all that i fix i clean.
I often spend more time cleaning a kettle or a cooker than repairing it. 
Same like how your car goes much better after a full valet than just a service alone.I hear that the cape weather has taken a bit of a dip to winter.
Here each day hotter than the next as we approach another season of dust storms.

Every year they seem to get worse. My aircon is in fair condition and i keep it clean and dont mess with it.  Im hoping to buy a small bar fridge for my room soon and will have to get authorisation first.
There are a bunch of third country nationals in the passage outside my room.. all mopping and cleaning with soap water and dettol.
They do it every day because the inmatrs here mess so much.
They spit on the walls and floors and throw papers and cigg butts everywhere and just dont care.  They leave taps running and waste thousands of litrrs a day with their ritual washing.. but still dont shower. They smell and try to cover it eith perfume... but it doesnt work. Not one has ever seen or used a scrubbing brush on himself or the floor.
A whole new desert culture.. and it takes a lot of getting used to.  Well.. to be quite honest.. i tried for years in iraq and again here.. i can bear with it.. but never get used to it. I gave it my best shot.. even crossing my legs till my knees felt like corksrews at meals on the floor diving into trays of chicken and rice using one hand and no implements.

No umplements...Well .. yes... ump !! Umph to all that.
I sit mostly how im most comfortable...and use a spoon now....not my bare hands.
And then i close my door and read and write and email.. and they mostly leave me to my mad western ways.������
Hoping all is well as can be.. thank you again for your positive resolve on attaining some solution for this .
Love to all.
Best
G

Fortune Formula

The Lucky One.

Lucky.. haaa.. 

Here i lie in jail alone.

I watched a film .. one like many ive seen.. but today i cried a lot.

Tears.. actual tears..I stood back from time to time.. aware of my ridiculous tears and was incredulous seeing myself so easily afflicted

And I thought how anyone else seeing me would shake thier heads in sad disdain.

I realised or guessed then,  that the the tears were for my regrets and omissions.. my opportunities forfeited..and my very brave young son who has come all this way never knowing  anything of the truth concerning my absence.

So i watched the US marines in the movie doing thier killing and shooting in Iraq,  and then as some of them were killed in the fray.

I lived into it as i always do.. but i have become hardened to these vivid depictions of young men fighting for thier lives,  like i had done a few times.

The death and blood and fear all the same through the ages. 
How each one of us young soldiers was trained to work together with our battle mates, even if it meant sacrificing onesself.

I did that years ago,  when I had my turn ..even without realising it.. where i ran .. like this movie man .. into the teeth of death itself.. but lived.. as my mates died. 

No reason i could find,  could explain why i was still alive and so many of them were dead. 
My troop commander had chosen to place us where we were on the battle field and so many variables came into play,  defining the path of my feet on that battlefield.

My feet .. that walked out of that firefight alive while so many right next to me fell dead.

The "survivor guilt"  was the same then, as it is described in all the movies... and with no councelling or treatment afterwards...stayed writhing darkly in the depths of my mind.. 
I learnt how to deal with it over the years and replayed it in sections and stored those like  video tapes..stacked in  a dusty cupboard. 

When i replay any of those tapes .. the blank spots reignite and the sounds and smells come flooding back.. 
I no longer avoid it.. i have grown into it and accepted it.

I have come to realise that life and its courses,  for every one of us,  is defined by the thousands of possible variables that are in our every step each day.

Rarely entirely in our control.

So once again i watched the film actor enduring the agonies of loss.. guilt.. and ingrained traumatic damage.... just like i did.

Just like many of us did.Just as many are doing now.Just like i am still doing here every day.. 

Another battlefield.. different challenges.. different adversaries... and just as many different variables of luck.

Luck.. fate.. or divine design.?
That soldier in the movie did the same as me when he went home.. taking the time to visit the bereaved families,  to explain to them all of the brave last days.. hours .. and seconds thier sons had endured.

Few tears for me on all of this.. as i have replayed it in every way and grown resistant to the old raw emotions. 

The sadness remains eternal and part of my bones.
This time though .. today ... the tears ran freely down my face .. and they were not for me or my brave comrades..

Not for my devastated wife left destitute on remnants of my past futile efforts..
Not for my longsuffering mom or the hardships of so many others far worse off than me...imprisonment.. rape.. Torture.. starvation..
unimaginable cruelty.. warcrimes ..all the hatred and greed..

No.. these tears were for my brave young son.
The film i watched today had him there. 
Just like i knew him .. just  like he was with me when i last saw him.

.The likenesses were uncanny and no matter how i tried to get a hold of myself...i was taken by the reality of my love and sorrow for him.
.Choices we make are integral  parts of the formula of our  fortunes.

There are real and imagined influences.. religious.. magical..occult...superstitious.. logical.. calculated ideas and luck..

Co incidence ...fate.. prayer.. statistical probability and hope.

We humans are wired to find reason.. explanations or answers for everything... and when there arent any or when we cant find them....we make them up.
My gosh but we are the masters of spin.!
My gosh .. but i am ashamed of my desperate naievity and lemming like tendency to follow blindly in hope.I do that..
Ive done thatI never stop hoping for more.I want to be on the side of the winning team.

How easy it would be to be content with any of the immaculately groomed dogmas.

Prophesies.. predictions.. promises and flamboyant descriptions of paradise.

How easy it would be to pack all that away like those past lessons into my stack of video cassettes... and then to sit back knowing i was likely to be given a gate pass one day.

I want to keep my best options open and to err on the right side.I dont want to get to the gate for the big match.. and find that i dont have enough money to buy a ticket.. or that i dont have enough credits in my account.

To have come all this way.. endured so much.. learnt so much .. loved so many.. made so many mistakes... atoned and repaid so many.

Only to be turned away by the guy at the gate.No..Im not taking that chance..Im not leaving it too late..Im gonna hedge my bets..I will always keep praying.

Ch (11) Randomness

The Lucky One.Lucky.. haaa..

 Here i lie in jail alone.

I watched a film .. one like many ive seen.. but today i cried a lot.

I stood back from time to time.. aware of my ridiculous tears and was incredulous myself.. and thought how anyone else seeing me would shake thier heads in sad disdain.

I realised then,  that the the tears were for my regrets and omissions.. my opportunities forfeited..and my son.

So i watched the movie of marines doing thier killing and shooting in Iraq ,  and then as some of them were killed in the fray....I lived into it as i always do..
but i have become hardened to these vivid depictions of young men fighting for thier lives like i had done a few times.

How each one of us was supposed to work together with our battle mates even if it meant sacrificing yourself.

I did that once,  even without realising it.. where i ran .. like this movie man .. into the teeth of death itself.. but lived.. as my mates died.

No reason i could find could explain why i was still alive and so many of them were dead. 

My troop commander had chosen to place us where we were on the battle field and so many variables  came into play defining the path of my feet on that battlefield.

My feet .. that walked out of that firefight alive while so many right next to me fell dead.

The survivors guilt was the same then as described in all the movies... and with no councelling or treatment stayed writhing darkly in the depths of my mind..

 I learnt how to deal with it over the years and replayed it in sections and stored those like a dusty rack of old video tapes.. in a dusty cupboard. 

When i play any of those tapes .. the blank spots reignite and the sounds and smells come flooding back..

 I have come to realise that life and its courses for every one of us is defined by the thousands of possible variables that are in our every step every day.

So once again i watched the film actor enduring the agonies of loss.. guilt.. and ingrained traumatic damage.... just like i did. 

Just like i am still doing here every day.. Another battlefield.. different challenges.. different adversaries... and just as many different variables of luck...
or fate..?

He did same as me , and went home to explain to the families of his comrades now dead.. the last days.. hours .. and seconds of each he had seen..had watched die..

No tears for me anymore on this,  as i have replayed it in every way and grown thick calluses to inhibit that which i could not change then or now.

This time ... the tears i smeared miserably into my cheeks were not for me or my brave comrades..my devastated wife left destute on remnants of my past futile efforts.. or  my longsuffering mom or the hardships far worse than mine endured by many.

Torture.. starvation.. unimaginable cruelty.. warcrimes .. hatred..

No.. these tears were for my brave young son.

The film i watched today had him there.
Just like i knew him .. just  like he was with me when i last saw him.

The likenesses were uncanny and no matter how i tried to get a hold of myself.. i was taken by the reality of my own sight.
But today i cried not just for him as i watched that filmshow.
It was for us.. not because of what we had missed out.. but because of what could have been if i had stepped a pace to the left or right.. or death or greater blessing.