The tragedy of inhumanness

Some lives begin slipping long before the body is summoned home,

their spirits wandering in dark corridors,

searching for a light

we never bothered to offer.

We walk past them like they are lepers,

never hearing how their prayers

have grown brittle,

how their hope has started

to loosen its grip on reality,

how they are walking into an abyss of nihility.

We watch officials pass them by,

eyes trained on podiums,

not on people,

on reports,

not on suffering,

on the choreography of authority,

not the trembling of the forgotten.

And when these souls finally rest

in the place of many crosses,

we arrive with borrowed holiness,

murmuring blessings over soil,

pretending we had not watched

their souls unravel while they were still calling out to us.

Leaders, officials arrive draped in ceremonial sorrow,

speaking polished condolences

over lives they never paused to see,

pretending their hands were not part of the slow unmaking,

of those who died while still breathing.

Societies learn too late

that indifference is a kind of violence,

that the tragedy of inhumanness

is not only in the dying,

but in the comfortable distance

kept by those entrusted

to keep us whole.

 

Ora pro nobis.

Whose ‘crap’ is it?

Two people can walk through the same surroundings and see the same piece of plastic dancing around. One instinctively picks it up and throws it into a bin. The other walks past it, seemingly unbothered. Is cleanliness simply a matter of hygiene, or is there a deeper social divide in how people perceive dirt and responsibility?

We learn from childhood what is acceptable, what is offensive and what deserves our attention. Social norms strongly influence littering behaviour. Where people grow up surrounded by litter that nobody bothers to remove, indifference can become a norm.

Some people want clean surroundings but believe cleaning is somebody else's responsibility. Lest we forget. Status also quietly decides who bends down. Cleaning is classic “dirty work”. Society needs it yet looks down on those who do it.  Hence, where someone is paid to clean, others feel licensed to ‘crap indiscriminately’.

At home, in our offices, hierarchy can also freeze personal responsibility to cleanliness. If bending down is the employer’s habit but not the worker’s clear assignment, the packet waits for orders from above.

Sometimes, let us accept that every space whispers a rule. People litter far more where litter already lies, because a dirty surrounding announces that ‘crapping indiscriminately’ is normal.  One ignored piece of plastic is not a small thing. It is an invitation!

The question of whose litter it is, exposes a troubling social contradiction. We may demand clean homes, clean streets and clean cities while walking past the very rubbish that makes them dirty. We complain about municipal authorities, cleaners and neighbours, yet refuse to bend down and pick up a discarded piece of plastic.

Ask anyone whether littering is wrong and they will say yes. Watch them, and the story changes. Fact is. People litter more than they admit, excusing “small” items or a missing bin. 

Until then, that piece of plastic by the gate will stay exactly where it is, seen by everyone and claimed by no one.

Res publica, res omnium.

Kozo.