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A silly little girl
Jun. 23rd, 2009 12:22 pmA rocking friend from the pagan scene has just added a link to her facebook. It's now at the bottom of this entry. It's about witches, and I'm in it for a bit, but I don't expect you to watch it - it's in Dutch. I post it here to remember, not even recalling the flourishing fun of London's pagan scene in the 1990s from which it dates. This is something else.
The bit I'm in shows our eco group's protests against Shell's anti-environmental activities in the Niger Delta, the ruin of the Ogoni homeland, and the imprisonment of Ken Saro-wiwa and the Ogoni 9.http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ken_Saro-Wiwa
Shell were having a major meeting at the Princess Elizabeth Building in Westminster and we were there.
I forgot. But I remember today.
I look at myself and laugh. 1994, an absurd little girl playing at witches, with my tiny overhang and my less tiny overbite and my over-earnest expression, my over-earnest everything. There I am, pointing the dstinctly bent index finger of my left hand accusingly at the Princess Elizabeth building in Westminster. 'Until you stop killing people!' I shriek, 'For money!' As if killing them as a freebie would be more acceptable. Now I wince and I laugh.
Silly silly little girl, 14 years ago. There is a goddess quote from somewhere which says, 'All of my children are parthenogenetic.' I love that. I smile a little cynicaly at this strange girl as though she was my daughter, when in fact, she's the real mother of me, innocent and half daft.
June 9th this year, Shell finally paid out millions in compensation to the families of the unjustly hanged. I recall rushing the lobby of the PE building, and getting in there, linking hands with others sitting down. I recall being grabbed out by two very burly policemen. They grabbed my arms, yoinked me out and pushed the limbs backwards until I could feel one beginning to crack at the join, ready to pop out. They stopped when they saw the photographer clicking away, they left me on the pavement, fainting. No, you won't see that on this footage. But I remember. I remember a beautiful older woman, a shareholder, in a cashmere style coat with a fur trim. How well groomed she was. I said to her, 'Don't you care?'
And I swear to you, the beautiful lady turned to me and said, 'No I don't. I really don't care.' Then I said, 'But you're old. One day, you'll be near death. You'll care then.' And she stared at me with her mouth open. I don't know whether she's living or dead. I only know she outlived Ken Sarowiwa.
Edited to add: a link that works!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QzRcLmubd1Q
The bit I'm in shows our eco group's protests against Shell's anti-environmental activities in the Niger Delta, the ruin of the Ogoni homeland, and the imprisonment of Ken Saro-wiwa and the Ogoni 9.http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ken_Saro-Wiwa
Shell were having a major meeting at the Princess Elizabeth Building in Westminster and we were there.
I forgot. But I remember today.
I look at myself and laugh. 1994, an absurd little girl playing at witches, with my tiny overhang and my less tiny overbite and my over-earnest expression, my over-earnest everything. There I am, pointing the dstinctly bent index finger of my left hand accusingly at the Princess Elizabeth building in Westminster. 'Until you stop killing people!' I shriek, 'For money!' As if killing them as a freebie would be more acceptable. Now I wince and I laugh.
Silly silly little girl, 14 years ago. There is a goddess quote from somewhere which says, 'All of my children are parthenogenetic.' I love that. I smile a little cynicaly at this strange girl as though she was my daughter, when in fact, she's the real mother of me, innocent and half daft.
June 9th this year, Shell finally paid out millions in compensation to the families of the unjustly hanged. I recall rushing the lobby of the PE building, and getting in there, linking hands with others sitting down. I recall being grabbed out by two very burly policemen. They grabbed my arms, yoinked me out and pushed the limbs backwards until I could feel one beginning to crack at the join, ready to pop out. They stopped when they saw the photographer clicking away, they left me on the pavement, fainting. No, you won't see that on this footage. But I remember. I remember a beautiful older woman, a shareholder, in a cashmere style coat with a fur trim. How well groomed she was. I said to her, 'Don't you care?'
And I swear to you, the beautiful lady turned to me and said, 'No I don't. I really don't care.' Then I said, 'But you're old. One day, you'll be near death. You'll care then.' And she stared at me with her mouth open. I don't know whether she's living or dead. I only know she outlived Ken Sarowiwa.
Edited to add: a link that works!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QzRcLmubd1Q
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