NaBloPoMo 2024 - day 09

 It is 86 years ago since the Night of Broken Glass [Kristallnacht]. That night, an organised mob of Nazi forces and sympathisers went on the rampage in towns and cities across Germany, smashing and destroying Jewish-owned property and businesses. It was a foretaste of what was to come during World War II. The extermination of anyone deemed sub-human by the warped mind of Adolf Hitler and his henchmen. Jews topped their league of the unfit, closely followed by gypsies, the mentally ill and many many others. The Reichskristallnacht was a night of infamy, and not just to Germany. Hitler had already been allowed to get away with murder for several years beforehand. In 1936, he occupied the Rhineland which had been ceded to France at the end of the First World War. The League of Nations, the predecessor of the United Nations, cried wolf but had no bite. On 12 March 1938, Nazi forces marched into Austria to join that country to Germany, an event referred to as the Anschluss. Neville Chamberlain flew to Munich to meet with Adolf Hitler on 30 September 1938, returning with the infamous phrase: "Peace for our time". Six weeks later, the Reichskristallnacht took place. Only a few months later, Germany invaded the Sudetenland area of Czecho-Slovakia, and again, nobody moved a finger to stop. In September 1939, Hitler thought he could get away with the invasion of Poland. But this time, it prompted a declaration of war, signalling the outbreak of the Second World War. The lights have gone out in Europe, it was said at the time. The lights in Europe had already been extinguished in 1914, and had not been relit, not even at the end of the First World War. The Versailles Peace Treaty of June 1919 contained all the ingredients for another war, which duly materialised. After the unspeakable atrocities of the Second World War, Germany was divided into four by the victorious allies. The British, French and American sectors became West Germany, whilst the Soviet sector was turned into East Germany, a communist state. Berlin was similarly divided. Until 1961, people from the East fled to the West in droves. A barrier was erected across Berlin in August 1961, later replaced by a high, concrete wall. Similar barriers were put up along the borders between East and West Germany. Anyone trying to flee from East to West was shot on sight, no questions asked. The advent of Mikhail Gorbatchov as leader of the USSR in the 1980s heralded a start of change. And when this wind of change blew across eastern Europe, it blew away all the communist regimes within the space of a few months in 1989.

The Berlin Wall was torn down on 9 November 1989, and you can see the dilemma. Do we remember the Kristallnacht, and not celebrate the reunification of Germany? Do we celebrate the reunification, and ignore the Night of Broken Glass? Maybe the two can be reconciled. The Berliners remember the Kristallnacht in a very low-key but poignant manner. Every year, in the evening of November 9th, candles are left on the doorsteps of houses that were ransacked that night.

The flame, burning at the top of this post, is my candle of remembrance for Kristallnacht.

NaBloPoMo 2024 - day 08

 A football riot raged across the streets of the Dutch capital, Amsterdam, last night. An Israeli side had come to play Ajax Amsterdam, but the politics of the current war in Gaza spoiled the occasion. Without the full facts, I would rather not comment further. But it is unacceptable for people to be targeted for being Israeli or indeed Jewish, or for people to be targeted because they are Palestinian or support the people of Gaza. I think the Israeli government overreacted by chartering a plane to take its citizens out of the Netherlands.

Holland saw 110,000 of its Jewish population deported to the gas chambers of Auschwitz and other deathcamps during the Second World War. To have Jewish people targeted again on the streets of Amsterdam, albeit in a vastly different context, would have opened old wounds.

Tomorrow, I am publishing a NaBloPoMo post to commemorate the 86th anniversary of the Reichs Kristallnacht.

NaBloPoMo 2024 - day 07

A lens-shaped cloud looming over the ferry terminal, on a fairly bright but blustery afternoon. The days have been very cloudy, dark and overcast this week, but a bit of sunshine was very much welcome today.

NaBloPoMo 2024 - day 06

MV Hebridean Isles departing Stornoway at dusk this afternoon. She is in the twilight days of her service, which will end on November 13th. 

The vessel is currently covering for MV Loch Seaforth, until she returns from refit. Hebridean Isles will then be sent for scrapping, after 39 years in the Calmac fleet.

NaBloPoMo 2024 - day 05

Today the people in the United States of America go to the polls to elect a new president. I thought that British politics was polarised. It is, but nowhere near as nasty as American politics.
I wish all my American friends and acquaintances wisdom in selecting the person best suited to lead their country over the next four years. Nationally and internationally many challenges face the new president. I just hope things will calm down across the pond.

NaBloPoMo 2024 - day 04

A picture from four years ago, which I was reminded of on my walk round to Goat Island today.
It shows a split sky, with cloud moving into blue sky. It marked a transition, when a close friend was in the last hours of life. I had to hurry back from Goat Island to be with Barbara - someone I had known for 16 years, and who had shared those years with me. 

During my time in Stornoway, my father had come up to see me four times, in 2008, '10, '12 and '14. He passed away two years ago. The last time I saw him in this life will remain with me. He was very frail and unwell in a hospital bed, but he was genuinely pleased to see me after an absence of three years - partly due to Covid restrictions on travel. And when we shook hands when I left, he held on a little longer. 

 I last saw my mother 20 years ago last July at the railwaystation in Darlington. I was on a train, which was departing. She was a smiling person, but there was no smile the last time I saw her face disappearing from the train window. My mother passed away in 2008.

Those who have passed on are not really dead, if they are remembered by those who knew them, who loved them.

NaBloPoMo 2024 - day 03

Yesterday was All Hallows, when we remember those who have gone on ahead. Today was the day, six years ago, that one of my friends passed away in the night. Sophia was not found until three days later, when her social media acccounts remained silent over a weekend. Her life was music and dance, and in the few encounters, she opened up about the challenges she had faced, and the promises that had been left unfulfilled. I remember the March evenings, when darkness fell after 7pm, when she lit an angle-poise lamp for my convenience. I would leave well after midnight. I only met her a few times in 2013, but opportunities to meet up again were lost in circumstance. Her voice remains in recordings of the radio programme she did on a now-defunct radiostation in Uist, and the memories remain with those who knew her. Sophia saw herself as a mermaid, and would swim in the sea. After I learned of her passing, I felt she had swum away in the night. Her little cat was finally retrieved nearby and is now living her life with people that love her. One day, Sophia will come striding up the garden path to take Torran across the Rainbow Bridge. 

Quite a few of my female friends have passed away in the two decades I have spent in Stornoway. Mostly, they could not be anywhere but near the sea.