Mazen

I feel guilty. I read through Mazen's blog. Mazen is a musician living in Beirut (yep, that Beirut), who was playing gigs in Amsterdam 2 months ago. Now he's writing a blog about daily air strikes, empty supermarket shelves and gas shortages.

I guess I have to get used to this feeling of guilt. I remember this very same feeling when I was younger, mixed with a bit of fear. It was Yugoslavia's turn in the headlines. It was close, easy to relate to. Stray shells fell onto border towns in the South. We had a nationalist government. It was close.

A couple of years later I went on a rowing trip on the Mura river, along the border. The trip ended near a small village where the Mura joins the Drava. The village was on top of a cliff overlooking the Slavonian lowlands. The village pub had a concrete terasse with a great view. People used to sit outside, sipping their "fröccs" (1/4 wine, 3/4 sparkling water) and watching the armies pounding each other from plastic chairs. Not on CNN. The stray shells were also very much unlike their media counterparts. They actually hurt, they said. It was that close to them.

I remember seeing reports on TV about Sarajevo. On the screen, there were people who were doing the same things I've been spending my days with, having the same mondane preoccupation I had. Until it all broke down. They were now gambling their lives trying to cross a street. It was a bit further off, though. I was shocked.

Mazen wears a beard and drinks whiskey occasionally. Mazen is used to living in the shadow of billboards, listening to the radio, drawing pictures, watching TV, reading books, going out at night, I guess.

I wear a beard and drink whiskey occasionally. I'm living in the shadow of billboards, listening to the radio, drawing pictures, watching TV, reading books, going out at night.

Why is it that my worries about which model of iPod I should buy can't ever be universal?