The End of Safety?


The End of Safety?

The reckoning of what it is to be a child of the colonies, doomed to spiraling inequalities. It is to be encouraged to slot into nothing more than fragile, dispensable cogs of extractive economies.

The gravity of being pulled down by your own fear, reinforced by the collective anxiety of the “End of Safety”?

The end of coffee in cafes. Friday night, Sex in the city with cocktails and capirinha’s.

The end of whitewashed Jazz clubs, African crafts, fancy gyms and evening Zumba classes.

The end of vicious, relentless cultural consumption. Yoga. Frivolous drinking sprees – Protected by money or whiteness. Public indecency that does not apply to thee.

For those who are protected by Safety in the unequal societies, designed and re-framed as nations – yet remain, in substance, as former colonies in this epic rendition of the “emperor’s new clothes”.

Welcome to – The End of Safety.

For me and for you.
The privileged few.

The cutting cold of the creeping darkness that was always here, kept at bay by rainbow tinted dreams that are now no longer loud enough to hide bone chilling screams.

Coming to grips with a freedom that was never achieved.
Singing songs of an African Unity that is so far from a dream – It has become a nightmare, I fear.

An unending tale of violence.
Hundreds of lives lost to the seas of the Mediterranean.
Brothers and Sisters labelled as migrants. Leaving from their homes in search of fresh shores.

Travelling from Tyrant to Tyrant.

Countless women. Young women. Taken from their homes by men wielding steel guns and holy texts.
Lost to the impenetrable jungle of “Africa”. Forgotten in the priorities of a world that comes to her and leaves.
When he has what he needs.

Terror.
Unending terror.
Text messages.
Emails and warnings of bombs and attacks.
In Television Broadcasts, sent to your living room from far away.
Coming closer. And closer.
Soon the sounds of blasts will be too loud for you to turn away.
Generations will be lost, many who can will then choose to run away.

Pangers and Daggers.
“Foreigners”
Killing.
Low hanging fruit.
Amnesia.. Unable to recongise one’s family.
Raising axes allowing violent lives and diatribes to take form through your body.
Competing for non-existent jobs.
On the war path.
Against the self.

The End of Safety.
The end of coffee in cafes. Friday night, Sex in the city with cocktails and capirinha’s.

The end of whitewashed Jazz clubs, African crafts, fancy gyms and evening Zumba classes.

The loudness of the violence you turn away from outside your door.
Will creep in through the evening mist.
Through every open crevice of your walls.

Entering your mind.
No one will be left amiss.

In a world were so many are condemned to live from birth to death in violence.

The End of Safety.
For those who by lottery remain free.
Seems to me.
An Inevitability.

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