My Criminal Spouse
Over the weekend we went down the coast and spent a few days at Immigrant Y’s uncle’s beach house. Once again it was me Immigrant Y and Immigrant Z. It is a cute little place just perfect in summer, simple and cosy. In winter the “cosy” is a fair bit frostier, so on Saturday we spent the day huddled around a small electric radiator to have our planning meeting and then all agreed unanimously that the pub on the corner with a log fire was a much better option on opening at 4pm. Drinking a beer at the pub wouldn’t lower our core body temperatures either, so another reason to go there to reduce the chances of suffering from hypothermia.
It is beautiful here, we overlook the beach from a small hill with salt spray drifting in seemingly in synchronicity with the large breakers. It is mesmerising watching the big sets come in to sight on the horizon and watching their steady path to shore. Every wave breaks as a close or distant relative of the previous and keeps you wondering what the next born breaker will bring. It keeps you guessing what made one wave different from the other, what small trick of fate led to a wave to thunder into the shore or peter out leaving a patch of calm with foaming torment all around. Some things I know effect the interaction of other waves like the wind. For many waves especially the largest the course was set some time hundreds of kilometres out to sea days ago.
I grew up on the coast and have watched the sea for years but to be honest I still can’t predict what will happen with a wave unless it is just about to break. I guess I have the same feeling with my predictive powers of judgement on other human beings. When I meet someone at one of my few social outings, a house warming or the reluctant Friday evening at the pub, I just don’t know what I will get when I start a conversation. Will the person be a racist fuck or believe in a better world for all? I constantly have to re-adjust my frame of reference. I feel more and more disgust towards the humanitarian who does charity work overseas to give a few specially chosen a chance but doesn’t really believe in social justice at home. The lovely left leaning couple who once they have a child have a change of heart about the right of every child to a good education; it gets superseded by the rationale that my child deserves the best and fuck the rest, well within reason of course.
When I was younger I used to surf a lot and felt I could take on any swell but now with my woeful physical condition I know I could still survive in the surf but just barely. I feel the same now in a social setting always out of my depth and out of breath just struggling to stay afloat until I can draw back into my dim little crawl space of an apartment and my sheltered routine. Immigrant X has given me a new hope that I can once again navigate humanities absurdities and its horrors, cruelty and light and love maybe once again with some degree of confidence.
This weekend the Immigrant X is planning a new action. We came up with a pretty good idea actually. We are going back into disruptive mode this week. It is back to Stop and Searches and relies on the brother of Immigrant Z for technical support. He is technically brilliant with electronics and robotics. So we are going to use these skills in our next action. More about this during the week, we also have had our first tip off from Tripitaka the border force agent. We will use this as well for our action.
We want to give information to those being targeted by stop and searches on the spot. We hope that this information will empower those being targeted and people who would normally be passive passing by. We have thought of an innovative way to deliver this support in an “illegal immigrants” hour of need and we hope this could make the difference between deportation or someone just going about their day as normal.
We are still trying to come up with a long term viable operation that we can use to rescue illegal immigrants. Parts of the plan are starting to take shape. We have some contacts and this week we hope we have organised our first lot of emergency accommodation. The next step is the normalisation of the lives of the people we manage to rescue from the system. This part we still haven’t figured out. We have a few ideas but all of them involve a step we have not so far taken and that is to really endanger our security and take the project into the extra-legal realm. We need to think clearly and logically through this and we need some time but we also need to make use of our contacts or they will dry up. We all feel that we are getting somewhere as a group, that we have some decent contacts and our plans have worked out, no big successes but little positive steps. We have managed to keep an eye for each other and keep each other safe.
So here I am it is around midnight writing this blog post huddled over the electric bar heater with a blanket around me. Immigrant Y and Immigrant Z are already asleep and I thought I should document our stay somehow. Outside I can hear the waves not just pounding but actively trying to push through the soft sand of the shore. My brain can get around the fact that Soft sand somehow forms an impenetrable barrier, a permanence that can’t be foiled by any new trick the elements can employ on its target. So illogical but we all accept it is so, we all accept that the world has borders that the soft sand is impermeable when formed as a shore. Pour water through a handful of the sand and water falls to ground, the logic of permanence dissolves on closer inspection. The borderless world is my logic. I can’t believe in the permanence of borders or sovereignty. I can’t see the logic that the brutality of fencing off one part of humanity can save our communities, keep us wealthy and safe. I see it as a slow death of reason, a descent where all of us are corrupted into a criminal logic, collectively we are contriving a thousand lies to support our violent and criminal spouse the government for our peace of mind. We lie because we like the nice house and holidays this deranged spouse offers and we know it has a violent and dangerous demeanor if ever we challenge it.
I am feel more and more disgust at myself and my complicity in being part of the immigration department. I am the one who give a false sense of security to the systems victims because I impotently want to help, somehow ease the pain. My role is to give scraps of compassion and understanding before the system crushes peoples hope, dreams and dignity and increasingly at a snail’s pace, sometimes years.
This we week we will try and stand up to this violent spouse just a little and prevent one of its crimes, hope you will follow on Twitter our action. Here are our twitter accounts @Immigrant_X @ImmigrantY amd @Immigrant_Z