Life is hard for our left comrades who fight against the beast and racism. So a brave activist of the Traoré Committee, who introduces himself as a ( hardly known) novelist, tells us about his misfortune. It is pathetic and one empathises with him. An indiscreet question: did he suffer the last outrages with a knife to his temple?
Did I lose today? I don’t know, I had nothing to gain, you can never gain when you’ve been through experiences like this, you can only lose or perish. I never trusted this system enough to expect anything from it, and I never thought anyway that the opportunities it offered me – to punish – could have brought me anything good. I am just stunned, even dejected, that a judge or magistrate could question my narrative.
I remember Primo Levi telling us – on a different level of violence, of course – that the survivors of the concentration camps, even if they were far away from each other and had never spoken to each other, told the same story: They often dreamt at night that they were telling what they had seen and experienced, but the person they were addressing was not listening to them. From this nightmare came an immense pain that was indescribable for the survivors. Someone who has not experienced it themselves will, in my opinion, never be able to understand this unspeakable pain. This pain that others have experienced, that others will continue to experience in this perverse system of persecuting victims.
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