Reflection: Behind Fences – Haibun – November 19, 2014

An old prison camp … bright lights glaring at night, making sleep difficult … prisoners of war.  A flash vision from Hogan’s Heros or Schindler’s List comes to mind.  Cold snow and drafty unheated wooden shacks.  Soldiers with machine guns on watch towers.

As I sit in my comfortable central heated home, I can’t help wondering, how would life have been in such a situation, happy that I’ve never had this experience but have only lived the situation vicariously through films and books. But on the other hand, one never really knows, does one. Many of those prisoners lived with their creature comforts never realizing that one day they would be prisoners of war.

To think, even today, somewhere on this planet, people live in camps surrounded by barbed wire with armed guards on a tower.  Prisoners of war.

snowflakes
on a barbed wire fence
frozen in silence

(c) G.s.k. ’14

Linked to Haibun Thinking – Photo prompt by Arthur Brown 

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19 thoughts on “Reflection: Behind Fences – Haibun – November 19, 2014

  1. This is a very powerful and thought provoking piece. Life can change in an instant. Your words remind me to be grateful for what I have.

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      • It’s very interesting where haibun writing reads. I’m behind in responding to haibun challenges – I must try and do one this week.

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        • I’m behind on everything … problem of blog hoping I guess .. you write cool haibun though and it’s be nice to see one of yours up … I’m off to write the Ligo Haibun challenge in a bit .. I’ve chosen mountains … seems like everyone else went for guitars 😉

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  2. Some schools have a challenge program for students. The last one I read about was two college students living in a box on a cold November day to see what it was like to be homeless. There was also a program going around concerning soup. You made a bowl out of clay and then had just soup for your main meal. The bowl was then donated as well as the cost of the meal.

    In our area there are some families who were allowed to leave internment type camps after their own country was overtaken. A charity group gifted them assistance and aid for a year. We met some of them who know full well that they will never return to their own country. After several years in the camps. The one family still celebrated their holidays (allowing us to join them) but the parents said they would not be teaching their language to their children or grandchildren. I thought that was sad. While one may never get to go home the loss of language is a big part of ones identity. I wish I knew the language of my grandparents.

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    • Well, to console you just a little .. my family originally came from Austria and Germany. The language was completely lost to us their descendants but some of that culture clung just the same … and i discovered how much when I got to know some Austrians and Germans living here in Italy 😉

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      • I can relate. While the language might have been lost –
        the traditions of food and family remained strong.
        Though for the longest time the kitchen was not my friend. I’ve grown more comfortable with ‘her’ now.
        I’d rather use a knife than a food processor. I might change that for onions…

        I’ve read a few tales about how not to cry when chopping onions… but I think those onion tears might be a good thing in the long run. I know – silly me. 🙂

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