När det går upp för mig

När jag var i Sverige i november kastades jag rakt in i den obegripliga debatten kring Vellinge Kommuns avståndstagande till ensamkommande flyktingbarn. Bara de orden: ensam-kommande-flykting-barn.

I Vellinge kommun tar man avstånd från

ensam
kommande
flykting
barn

Jag satt på ett hotellrum i Malmö och jag kräktes när jag lyssnade på den debatten. Jag har kräkts en gång tidigare av samhällsinformation. Det var på gymnasiet, under en historielektion om förintelsen när det gick upp för mig, när det verkligen gick upp för mig, vad ordet förintelse betydde (nej, jag var faktiskt inte bakis).

Jag läser The Other Hand av Chris Cleave, jag tänker generat på de där inskränkta, tomma, ignoranta bönderna i Vellinge och jag måste få dela med mig:

"One of the things I would have to explain to the girls from back home, if I was telling them this story, is the simple little word 'horror'. It means something different to the people in my village.
In your country, if you are not scared enough already, you can go to watch an horror film. Afterwards you can go out of the cinema into the night and for a little while there is horror in everything. Perhaps there are murderers lying in wait for you at home. you think this because there is a light on in your house that you are certain you did not leave on. And when you remove your make up in the mirror last thing, you see a strange look in your own eyes. It is not you. For one hour you are haunted, and you do not trust anybody, and then the feeling fades away. Horror in your country is something you take a dose of to remind yourself that you are not suffering from it.
For me and the girls from my village, horror is a disease and we are sick with it. It is not an illness you can cure yourself of by standing up and letting the big red cinema seat fold itself up behind you. That would be a good trick. If I could do that, please believe me, I would already be standing in the foyer. I would be laughing with the kiosk boy, and exchanging British one-pund coins for hot buttered popcorn and saying, Phew, thank the good Lord that is over, that is the most frightening film I ever saw and I think next time I will go to see a comedy, or maybe a romantic film with kissing. But the film in your memory, you cannot walk out of it so easily. Wherever you go it is always playing. So when I say that I am a refugee, you must understand that there is no refuge."

Skåne i all välmening, men nog måste man göra något åt de där idioterna i Vellinge snart? Jag är villig att sponsra en charter till Rwanda.