Ouderwetse schaamte
Een bord verse bonensoep met worst en Woody Guthrie op de radio. Je waant je zo 80 jaar terug in de tijd. En dan luister je naar de tekst en merk je tot je grote schaamte, dat er eigenlijk (veel te) weinig veranderd is.
The gambling men are still rich, and the working men still poor. En hoe ging men 70 jaar terug om met Mexicaanse gastarbeiders? En hoe gaan wij nu om met asielzoekers? Hoeveel is er veranderd in onze minachting?
Some of us are illegal, and others not wanted
Our work contract's out and we have to move on
But it's six hundred miles to that Mexican border
They chase us like outlaws, like rustlers, like thieves.
We died in your hills, we died in your deserts
We died in your valleys and died on your plains
We died 'neath your trees and we died in your bushes
Both sides of the river, we died just the same.
Is this the best way we can grow our big orchards?
Is this the best way we can grow our good fruit?
To fall like dry leaves to rot on my topsoil
And be called by no name except deportees?En als laatste woorden wil ik een opmerking gebruiken van Ken Livingstone:
You can judge politicians by how they treat refugees: they do to them what they would like to do to everyone if they could get away with it.Ik schaam mij.
Wolfe Tone, man, 39 jaar
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