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Election year or In The Land of Milk and Honey Election year or In The Land of Milk and Honey
by Gordana Mudri
2015-10-07 08:45:54
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Jeez, how I much like this end of a four-year period. After all the broken dreams, faded hopes and sunken ships, here they are again! They come out from the dark with their smiles so bright, ready to immediately break all the darkness. Fireworks of hugs and shaking hands, patting on the back, and smiles. You don't know where to turn and you just stare like a lost lamb. You know, a new dawn is right there before you, the meadows bloom, the sun will be in abundance; there will be money to throw away, and everything that flows will be Milk and Honey! You just need to choose the right wizard and …fairy dust will switch you into a fairy tale!

croat01_400And how it happens and it is all so well timed? During the greyness and clouds, when you’re already sick of fog and rain, of freezing and muddy shoes, all these beautiful promises, they bombard you, come as an "Ace in the hole!"

Overdrafts on accounts? Unpaid bills? Unemployment? Loans? The refugee crisis? Come on, forget it! Starting tomorrow, you're not miserable anymore! From tomorrow you are A Citizen of The Country of Milk and Honey!

Oh, how easily we swallow that sweet bait of deception! We bite in a divine sweet surface and intoxicated with oblivion, we swallow the rest! We are hooked as catfish!

And when that comes to our brain... Forget it and wait another four bloody and sad years...

Demagogues on duty will go to their Ali Baba's cave, in a splendour and grandeur of their hardly gained treasure and just from time to time, they will peep at gloomy meadow. Because sheep need a haircut.

We don't even moan loud. We're getting older and weaker, and there is never too much for the lambs. Lambs have no clue where they are. Not even who's doing their haircut.

Apathetic youth. A consequence of long-term depression.

But, the Silence of the Lambs means that Hannibal is free...

And who will break the door then? Who will say "Open Sesame!" Who will finally admit that fairy tales are only in the books. Who will uncover the fiction monger?

What future has a country if we raise our youth to become servants and not initiators?

To be haters of all different and unknown? When nationalism means patriotism? What future has a country, where humanity is equated with high treason? Where knowledge is less important than nepotism? Where crime and robbery are amnestied? Where democracy is just an ancient word without a chance to revive?

Who will be The Courageous One or The Skilled One we invoking, reclining in our chairs? How long will we wait for Salvation From Heaven?

They say that people have the government they deserve.

We deserve this. To bleat and to count days until new elections, so that we could, on one gloomy and grey morning, look forward to the land of milk and honey, at least for a little while...

 **************************************************************

Izborna godina ili U Zemlji Meda i Mlijeka

            Isuse, kako ja volim ovaj kraj četverogodišnjeg razdoblja. Nakon svih propalih snova,  ugašenih nada i potopljenih brodova, evo njih! Izlaze iz mraka i osmjesi  im bliješte toliko da odmah razbiju tamu. Sve pršti od zagrljaja i rukovanja, tapšanja po leđima i smiješaka. Ne znaš kud bi se okrenuo i samo blejiš kao izgubljena ovca. Znaš da ti uskoro sviće nova zora, livade će procvjetati, sunca će biti u izobilju, bit će love na bacanje, a sve što teče bit će med i mlijeko! Samo trebaš zaokružiti pravog čarobnjaka i vilinska te prašina prebaci u bajku!

            I kako je samo dobro tempirano vrijeme! Usred sivila i oblaka, kad ti je već puna kapa magle i kiše, smrzavanja i blatnih cipela. Sve ta krasna obećanja kojima te bombardiraju dođu ti kao „As na desetku“!

            Kakvi minusi na računu? Kakvi neplaćeni računi? Koja nezaposlenost? Krediti u „švicarcima“? Izbjeglička kriza? Ma daj, zaboravi! Od sutra više nisi bijednik! Od sutra si Građanin u Zemlji Meda i Mlijeka!

            I kako samo lako progutamo slatki mamac obmane! Gricnemo u božanski slatku površinu i opijeni zaboravom polakomimo se za ostatkom! Upecali smo se kao somovi!

I dok nam dođe do mozga... Zaboravi, čekaj četiri duge, krvave i tužne godine...

            Dežurni demagozi povući će se natrag u svoje Ali-Babine pećine, u sjaj i raskoš mukom stečenog blaga, i samo će povremeno proviriti na sumornu livadu. Da malo ošišaju ovce...

            Čak više ni ne blejimo jako. Sve smo stariji i nemoćniji, a janjadi je sve manje. A ta janjad ni ne zna gdje je. Ni tko ju šiša. Nezainteresirani podmladak. Posljedica dugoročne depresije.

            A kad jaganjci utihnu, Hannibal je slobodan...

            I tko će onda razvaliti vrata? Tko će reći „Sezame otvori se?“ Tko će konačno priznati da su bajke samo u knjigama? Tko će razotkriti trgovce maglom?

            Kakvu budućnost ima zemlja u kojoj se mladost odgaja da budu podanici a ne pokretači? Da budu mrzitelji svega drugačijeg i nepoznatog? Kada se domoljublje izjednačava s nacionalizmom? Kakvu budućnost ima zemlja u kojoj se humanost izjednačava s veleizdajom? U kojoj je znanje manje važno od nepotizma? U kojoj se amnestira kriminal i pljačka? U kojoj je demokracija samo drevna riječ koju nitko oživljava?

            Tko će bit onaj Hrabriji i Sposobniji kojeg zazivamo zavaljeni u fotelje? Koliko dugo ćemo čekati Spas s Neba?

            Kažu da narod ima vlast kakvu zaslužuje.

            Mi zaslužujemo ovo. Blejati i brojiti dane do novih izbora, pa se jednog sumornog sivog jutra ponovo radovati zemlji meda i mlijeka, barem nakratko...


      
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