Between the Walls

I remembered a novel that I had read four years ago, a novel that was enough to press on my head. The novel titled Le Mur (The Wall) by Jean Paul Sartre, published in 1939, against the background of the civil war in Spain.

The work was suddenly remembered in my head, when everything I saw and heard began to describe an object that was confined, had a size that was wide enough and physically strong to hold anything from the outside. My logic and imagination finally came to an object that came close to that picture, which is "Wall".

Conclusion The wall may be right. When all the texts, pictures and sounds today ask and require everyone to stay at home, behind the Wall. The beginning of this event occurred when the global Corona Virus pandemic began to bring death to humans. Like a war opponent, who could easily aim at my head when I came out of the stronghold.

I was required to remain in the house and those three main characters in the novel Le Mur had to stay in detention. Here, a very tragic situation is when it is approaching night and we have been told in general that death will pick us up in the morning. All happened only behind the Wall.

Every day even every hour. The mass media continues to catapult info and news that don’t make sense. Such as the efficacy of herbal medicines, mass basking in the hot sun, etc. Not to mention about PPE for the medical team who are sad, using raincoats made from crackle bags, which are easily torn even though only the tip of a finger nail is scratched. This irrational effort is expected to truly be able to ward off the Corona Virus, which can destroy every function of the organs in the human body. Meanwhile, Pablo Ibbieta and Tom were radical volunteers in the battle against Franco’s fascism to defend Spain. Juan, a simple innocent who happens to be the brother of an active anarchist. The three of them were initially interviewed very seriously, even though without the questions raised, the interrogator seemed to write a lot of them.

On the one hand, the community landscape is filled with efforts to prevent an outbreak, on the other hand it is filled with news of the death toll and the silence of the funeral process due to the plague. Not to mention the sermons of religious leaders on the glass screen and everywhere, even without anyone in the place of worship, except for the news givers. They seem to provide subtle meanings and predictions for acceptance, submission and death. All of this is a kind of compulsion to enter into the space of temporary life, hoping for salvation from the savior who knows what it looks like and from whom, but one thing is certain we also understand that then death will pick us up forever. God, please roll your dice, we will play it for you.

Le Mur relates that Pablo was asked if he knew the whereabouts of Ramon Gris, a local anarchist leader. He said no. At 8:00 a night, an officer came to inform them, in what they thought was right, that they had been sentenced to death and would be shot the next morning.

Naturally, they spent the night being oppressed by the knowledge of their impending death. Naturally, I also spend my time under the pressure of a wall that crushes psychic. The crisis of existence in a reality, the Wall has metamorphosed into many things, keeping me away from people around me, my family, lovers and even from myself who is tense with fear and responding to death outside my healthy thinking habits.

Like Juan who prostrated for self-pity. Pablo and Tom struggled to accept the idea of ​​dying on an intellectual level, while their bodies betrayed the fear he naturally feared. Pablo found himself soaking wet; Tom can’t control his bladder. Like religious leaders, a Belgian doctor accompanied them to make their last moments "not too difficult."

Pablo observes how confronted with death that radically can change the way everything - known objects, people, friends, strangers, memories, desires - appears to him and his attitude towards it. Pablo also contemplates his life to the lowest level and he says:

At that moment I felt that my whole life was in front of me and I thought, "That is a damned lie." It was worthless because it was finished. I wondered how I could walk, laughing with the girls: I wouldn’t move as much as my little finger if I just imagined I would die like this. My life is in front of me, closed, closed, like a bag and everything inside is not finished yet. For a moment I tried to judge it. I want to tell myself, this is a beautiful life. But I cannot judge; it’s just a sketch; who has spent my time faking eternity, I don’t understand anything. I didn’t miss a thing: there were many things I could miss, the taste of the manzanilla or the baths I did in the summer on a small river near Cadiz; but death has disappointed everyththat.

Morning arrived, Tom and Juan were taken out to be shot. Pablo was interrogated again, and told that if he told where Ramon Gris was, his life would be safe. He was locked in the laundry room to think about this for 15 minutes. During that time, he wondered why he had sacrificed his life for Gris, and could not give an answer except that he had to be a "stubborn person." The irrationality of his behavior comforts him.

Asked once again to say where Ramon Gris was hiding, Pablo decided to play foolishness and make an answer, informing his interrogator that Gris was hiding in a local cemetery. The army was immediately sent, and Pablo waited for their return and execution. However, a few moments later, he was allowed to join the prisoners in the courtyard free from the execution process, and said that he would not be shot - at least not for now. Pablo did not understand, until one of the other prisoners told him that Ramon Gris, who had moved from his old hiding place to the grave, was found and killed in the morning. Pablo reacts to just "laughing really hard".

I experienced cold, warmth, hunger, darkness, bright lights, smell, pink flesh, and gray face. People shiver, sweat, and urinate. Whereas philosophers such as Plato see sensation as a barrier to knowledge, here they are presented as a way of insight.

Pablo and Tom discussed the brutal nature of their deaths, even they could imagine the bullets sinking into the flesh. From this, I finally confessed to myself what if my hopes for death had made me indifferent to others and to the purpose of life’s struggle.

Tom and Pablo imagined their bodies lying bruised with bullets. I can also imagine, because of Corona Virus my body is dead and pale, without the accompaniment of prayer and wrapped in a plastic bag which then slowly enters the grave with the help of a rope. Previously I could not imagine if myself was not there. Because the self that I have identified so far is my awareness. And awareness is always an awareness of something. As Tom and Pablo said, "we are not made to think that way."

Death is like separating the living from the dead; but I will die too later, separate from the living. Because I myself can live what will happen to myself. A strong awareness of this indeed places a barrier between me and others.

As Pablo observed, his prisoners would soon die too, a little slower than him. Life under the death penalty is a human condition. But when the sentence is about to be carried out, a strong awareness of life is at its peak.