MIKE: In the first decade of this century Joan and I spent several holidays in Penang, a total of about six months, spread over four years. We loved Georgetown, the old hub of the city, with the exotic fruit and vegetable markets, the heady aroma of spices, the non-Western music issuing from Indian and Chinese stores, the street where every shop was a jeweller's, dealing mainly in gold, the food stalls of the hawkers. Above all, there was the majestic mosque in the centre, with its minaret, from which we would hear the call to prayer. Unusual to our ears, we soon became accustomed to it, and found the haunting, ethereal sounds extremely reassuring. Writing these words on Friday 22, a few hours before the 1.30pm call to prayer is due to be broadcast on national TV and radio, caused me to think of the peaceful atmosphere in the Penang mosque, one shared by the Christchurch mosques until a week ago. We must hope that the wave of compassion, understanding and sorrow which swept the country during this past week will not gradually subside as the memory of that repugnant slaughter slowly fades away. The event may gently ebb. The hope resulting from it must not.
It seemed that serendipity was in evidence again with the film shown at Confluence yesterday (Thursday) evening. Human Flow was a 2017 documentary, over two hours in length, depicting the plight of refugees. An artist of international renown, known to the world also for his outspoken and courageous criticism of his country's repression of human rights, Ai Weiwei has been a thorn in the flesh of the Chinese government for many years. Although imprisoned or subjected to house arrest on more than one occasion, he continues to plague them. To make this film, he and his camera crew visited more than 20 countries during that year, showing the conditions in refugee camps, both virtually permanent ones and the latest, which have sprung up overnight. Beginning with the more recent waves of immigrants to Europe, viewers were able to witness the misery, suffering and despair as boats pulled in to the shores of Italy and Greece, disgorging their wretched human cargo. Young and old, frightened and bewildered, yet determined to forsake their native countries of Syria , Iraq, Afghanistan and elsewhere, for the chance of a better life. Most camps consisted of shelters made from pieces of wood, cardboard and plastic sheets, providing merely minimal protection from the icy blasts of rain, wind and cold. Many had been living for months in conditions which I could barely imagine tolerating for one night. Ai Weiwei "avoids the rights and wrongs" of the various conflicts from which they have fled, according to a Google review, concentrating instead on their "fragility, tenacity and dignity" as they attempt to come to terms with their lack of acceptance in much of Europe. In the early stages, Germany was the country which offered them the chance of resettlement, but Angela Merkel's stance has caused her party to suffer a huge drop in the polls, with a consequential surge in numbers of the alt-right. Tempelhof Airport in Berlin had four large hangars converted into accommodation units by partitioning off sections for families. Filmed from above, it looked like a series of neatly aligned square boxes, tidy and clean. A switch to Calais then showed us "The Jungle", an agglomeration of tin and wooden shacks, a real shanty town, yet one which was sufficient of a threat to the city's authorities for them to have it demolished by cranes and bulldozers.
Moments which really hit home included the handing out, by local paramedics of tinfoil blankets to a group of cold and sodden refugees, just landed at night from a boat. In their exhaustion, the arrivals had to be assisted, the blankets being wrapped round their shoulders by the paramedics, after which they lay down, huddled together, in a long row. Reflections from vehicle lights gave the tinfoil a yellowish tinge. A strong wind was blowing, rippling the foil along the row. The result was a hypnotic effect, like an artist's video representation, of colour and movement. Yet, under each one, was a cold, shivering, despairing human being.
At another time we saw Jordanian soldiers assisting Syrian refugees as they crossed the border, picking up children, supporting the elderly, carrying their luggage. It was one of the few heart-warming moments of the film. A brief speech by the Greek Foreign Minister was very impressive, where he said Europe had a simple choice. They could act as one, uniting to help the refugees, or they could refuse assistance, thus splitting the continent down the middle.
Ai Weiwei then switched to those people who have endured marginalisation as a permanent state in their lives, particularly the Kurds, Rohingyas and Palestinians. Many of the latter have been in camps since the 1948 partition and appear to have little hope of any immediate improvement in their condition. Gaza was impossible to describe. Yet one moment of hope and beauty occurred, raising the spirits. A tiger was shown, in a deep, earthen pit, prowling and roaring. It was suggested that it might have come through a tunnel from Egypt. But it deserved to be free! Coming from the people of Gaza, this was a rather unexpected statement. Or perhaps not, as they saw a fellow sufferer. Wheels were set in motion, linking up with authorities in Jordan and South Africa. The tiger was lured into a crate, hoisted on to a lorry and transported to the airport. After sedation, it would be flown to Johannesburg, for release into the wild. All this effort for one animal? Of course! Our treatment of animals reflects the human capacity for cruelty or kindness. Perhaps this incident drove a small wedge into the wall of the Palestinian problem.
