from democracy now..
in conversation with Arundhati in 2006
Arundhati read from god of small things
20 min – along as the markets are open – fascism is fine
22 min – steal from the poor, subsidize the rich, and call it the free market… and thomas freidman calls india a democracy
25 min – Eduardo read from voices of time
38 min – perhaps to imagine another world we have to imagine another past… on immigration – columbus et al
44 min – it took him years to realize she was asking for someone to touch her..
1:03 – we have to stop that. we (you) have to find a way of stopping it.. Arundhati
1:05 – we are trying (by writing) to integrate all this dis integrated part of the world – Eduardo
1:08 – wars are factories for terrorists – Eduardo
1:14 – international run by 5 countries – Eduardo
world bank ruled by 8 countries.. i’m allergic to the world efficiency – Arundhati
1:15 – an incredible system – ie: anti-war supporting kerry – but he wasn’t saying he was going to pull out troops.. like comparing 2 brands of soap – created by same company – Arundhati
1:16 – divorce between words and facts – Eduardo
1:19 – it’s not worth just saying these are bad people.. because there’s a system in place.. – Arundhati
1:21 – 3/4 of youth in chile didn’t vote… Eduardo
but when you have tide and ivory snow – what’s the point in voting… democracy is not democracy any more.. it’s becoming the ceremony of democracy – Arundhati
1:27 – Eduardo reads – the human condition is worth the trouble.. let’s be crazy enough to be called crazy.. who refuse to forget in times of obligatory amnesia.. and clever enough to be disobedient when we receive orders in contradiction of our conscience
1:32 – Arundhati reads – nuclear weapons – 1998
on democracy now – about children of the days
silence is the perfect language
tweets april 2015
Fleas dream of buying themselves a dog, and nobodies dream of escaping poverty: that, one magical day, good luck will suddenly rain down on them – will rain down in buckets. But good luck doesn’t rain down, yesterday, today, tomorrow or ever. Good luck doesn’t even fall in a fine drizzle, no matter how hard the nobodies summon it, even if their left hand is tickling, or if they begin the new day on their right foot, or start the new year with a change of brooms. The nobodies: nobody’s children, owners of nothing. The nobodies: the no-ones, the nobodied, running like rabbits, dying through life, screwed every which way. Who are not, but could be. Who don’t speak languages, but dialects. Who don’t have religions, but superstitions. Who don’t create art, but handicrafts. Who don’t have culture, but folklore. Who are not human beings, but human resources. Who do not have faces, but arms. Who do not have names, but numbers. Who do not appear in the history of the world, but in the crime reports of the local paper. The nobodies, who are not worth the bullet that kills them.
Utopia lies at the horizon.
When I draw nearer by two steps, it retreats two steps.
If I proceed ten steps forward, it swiftly slips ten steps ahead.
No matter how far I go, I can never reach it.
What, then, is the purpose of utopia?
It is to cause us to advance.
Eduardo Hughes Galeano (Spanish pronunciation: [eˈðwarðo ɣaleˈano]; 3 September 1940 – 13 April 2015) was aUruguayan journalist, writer and novelist considered, among other things, “global soccer’s pre-eminent man of letters” and “a literary giant of the Latin American left”.
Galeano’s best-known works are Las venas abiertas de América Latina (Open Veins of Latin America, 1971) and Memoria del fuego (Memory of Fire Trilogy, 1982–6). “I’m a writer,” the author once said of himself, “obsessed with remembering, with remembering the past of America and above all that of Latin America, intimate land condemned to amnesia.”