Life is a miracle we cast in the gullet of fear.
We were not born free, we were not born humans. We become free, we become humans.
Each of us bears the sins of their parents, the sins of the society that nurtured them.
We were born slaves, submissive, in debt, servile. From day one, since we draw our first breath, we are in somebody’s possession, we belong to the Pharaoh, we belong to the society.
Society defines where we are going to live, how much we own, what will happen to us. It chooses what we will learn, what we will make sense of it, how much we will make sense of it and how much we are allowed to beg for.
It decides where we can travel, which borders we can cross, where we must lay to rest.
It decides what we will do for work, how much bread we will put in our mouth, how much we have to strain ourselves, and how much we should bleed.
It defines what we will take delight in, the days to wind down, how many children we can have, how many of them we can feed and how to bring them up.
It decides what we should plant into the earth and what we are going to do with the fruits of our labour.
Nothing really belongs to us but the submission, the fear, the bitter joy when you are given a new tiny mirror, a few more beads.
We are dying so that the Pharaohs can build their Pyramids, the monuments of their glory.
The priests serve them, preaching the divinity of the Pharaohs’ power.
The scribes serve them, persuading us that there is no alternative.
The soldiers serve them, burning our homes.
We were born to set store by the rules of the Pharaohs. To tread in the mud, till we melt into it. To wake up at the crack of dawn and work all day long, to earn the daily bread and an empty life.
We must teach our children to become slaves too, docile, obedient, cowards. That’s the only way to survive, the only way to learn, that’s the way to keep building Pyramids.
We are thousands, millions, billions, uncountable, but all of us work to feed the Rapacious Colossal Beast that never gets its fill, never feels remorse and is never merciful, the one that lives on our submission.
We have to choose. Shall we continue to be slaves? Shall we continue turning our children into slaves like us?
Take your pick. What kind of life do you want to live? What kind of life do you want for your children? A human’s life, or a slave’s life?
That’s how Moses spoke before the Red Sea.
A few miles away, in the background, a cloud of dust could be seen, as the chariots of the Pharaoh’s army were approaching raising war cries.
“Save us”, said the people “save us Moses.”
“I can’t save you, you’re not humans, you’re mice.”
“Tell God”, said the people, “tell God to save us. To split the waters in two for us to cross.”
“God can save nobody who doesn’t want to be saved”. Neither can prophets, generals or heroes. No one can save those who don’t fight for it.”
People started weeping, prostrating themselves, praying, fainting, wailing and cursing their fate.
And the tracks of the chariots of Pharaoh’s army got closer and closer.
No one will save you as long as you’re on your knees.
No one gifts you anything as long as you don’t claim, demand, fight for it.
How long can you bear to be a slave, obedient and invisible?
What are you afraid of? Dying? You’re dying a thousand deaths every day.
Aren’t you afraid that your children were born and will die as slaves, experiencing nothing else but being trodden in the mud?
What purpose could Pharaohs, priests, scribes and generals serve? Only for pyramids to be built?
Don’t you want to live, at least for once, as a human being, proud and free, even for an hour?
That’s how Moses spoke and the people parted in two, like the sea.
The armies of Pharaoh passed through them and struck Moses. The moment they killed him, the crowd started to attack. Children, women, men and elderly swept like locusts upon Pharaoh’s soldiers like the waves of an endless sea.
They drowned them down to the last.
The pieces of Moses were enshrined in the Ark and they carried it all the way to Canaan and always commemorated Moses’ words.
Take your pick. What kind of life do you want to live? What kind of life do you want for your children? A human’s life or a slave’s life?
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Translated by Alexandros Mantas
Edited by Dee Kay
Photo by Lee Jeffries (http://antikleidi.com/2014/11/11/astegoi/)