Divide and Conquer

He understood that to be real he had to attach his existence to a country mapped by centuries of wars and oppression and a flag painted with the blood of so-called patriots (brainwashed, poverty-stricken and desperate, clinging to God and their swords in hopes of a meal for every limb they lose). He knew that memorising an anthem written by a politicised poet who sold his soul for a pay-check and a hero’s medal would give his existence meaning. He was well aware that he would understand life by decorating his chest with borders drawn and redrawn in red ink by old men in suits carefully ironed by underpaid women (men who never saw the bloodshot eyes of hunger and bloodied knuckles but claimed to make pacts and sign treaties for them) (pacts and treaties agreed upon in language those bloodshot eyes could never decipher having missed out on basic education to look for God and food in cheap rooms of sleazy hotels). He had come to these realisations whilst pushing someone’s face into a river for being of a different skin colour, holding the neck tight, knowing that to exist meant to conquer.

By Ivana Rnjak