As it turns out, the settlers occupied the land for about five decades. No rent or taxes paid. If I owned the property I would be really angry at the situation.
The people knew what was going to happen. They were warned years ago. They never took it seriously. About eight hundred families in a single hectare ghetto area evicted, just like that.
Now Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) is real. Ask any war veteran when they hear sudden gunfire or a burn victim when they see a fireworks display.
In my own experience, losing a home in that way is painful. I empathized with the people thrown on the street, in panic, suddenly losing the place they grew up in one fell swoop. I knew how they felt. With all the commotion, it's all coming back to me.
Seeing people spend the night in a crowded, mosquito rich street while their old home is being destroyed by day was downright appalling. They only had their little valuables with them - small appliances, some clothes.
It broke my heart. Memories flood back. Tears wanted to roll down, again.
A couple decades past, I lost my place of residence. One fine day, I received a notice to get out, peacefully. There was no choice, it was my father's old quarters in a military base. Even my father ordered me to do the same. At that younger age, it was shocking and more so challenging.
Resistance was futile, a lot of guys in camouflage with guns were there, with the cops. I had a week to round things up and find a place to stay. Lost a lot stuff. Spent a lot of money. Saw so much pain and anguish all over. Along with other people I knew going through the same thing.
That was just the start of my world crumbling down.
Back to where I now live, in the first few nights, I would send some bread, insect repellant, water or a round of drinks for the guys. They needed drinks to get some sleep - on the cold, damp and dirty street.
Closer to the end of the demolition period, I decided to cook up some noodles and eggs for the remaining displaced families. With help of my crew, we prepped food for about a hundred. Friends and neighbors helped out by donating food and cash. My crew even worked for free.
That night, we sent the food in batches. The workers that delivered the donations reported how happy the victims were for the unexpected food donation. They even asked if there was a chef preparing the meals. It was just me, my special sauces and my heartfelt concern for those that lost everything in a day, like I did, eons ago. We topped the night off by delivering drinking water and distributing lit mosquito coils to make their night more "bearable". Some neighbors did the same the next day.
I knew that this is just the beginning of a long bittersweet process for the victims.
Things will worsen before it gets any better. After losing a residence in such circumstances, eventually find a new home will come with strains on finances and emotions. Then, after the initial trauma, grieving sets in. Losing a home like that feels that a part of you was "demolished" as well. The pain is harsh but then again there is no choice. This is part of moving on. Time will heal.
Life must go on.
With what just happened, a lot of thoughts made its way back from those "challenging" times. Here are just some things I learned:
- In your darkest hour, some of those closest to you will not be there for you. That's life. Some just won't care for you even when you are down.
- You will overstay your welcome in a temporary home sooner than you think. No matter how sincere, your hosts will want you out of their home after a few days. Relatives or friends. Same thing. Breakfast is tensions filled. Dinners are quiet. The "air" smells like resentment. Your food and bathroom habits will be the subject to their disgust and contention. Just like that, a person that was once so dear to me lost "the mask" being worn. All those years, all the kind acts was all a show. That person was keeping score of it all. What a scumbag. Broke contact since.
- Most of the sentimental stuff hoarded and gaining dusts at your home will be lost or stolen in such situations. Those shoes unworn since college, old pieces of China, broken lampshades, scratched up vinyl records, scrap pictures, obsolete or broken furniture or appliances are useless. Keep stuff that has utility. Minimalize.
- People at your office will not care. In my office job at the time, an officemate lost his entire home due to a flash flood. It was in the news and despite the situation, the President ever so insensitive berated him in front of everyone at the office for showing up late and under dressed to work that Monday. That guy lost everything. The President was not fully aware of the situation. Yet, he kept on bawling people out. That was a cheap shot. Looking back, I'm glad I chose to suffer in silence at the office when I became homeless.
- No land title, not yours. You can stay in a place for eons but without the proper paperwork and paid taxes, you can lose your home in a heartbeat. You can now better understand why legit homeowners are willing to fight to the death for their homes at the mere hint of losing them.
In those trying times, there are other hurtful things I endured. I lost way more than just a house and material possessions. My heart was broken many times long after. I would not wish that on anyone.
Never again will I want that to happen in my lifetime, never - in Latin, "Nunquam Iterum".
Now here are just some of the silver linings I witnessed while in crisis:
- Some people will be there for you, no matter what. Someone did take me in. I just left before anything could happen. Some relatives helped me. Sincerely. It is true, that when the shit hits the fan, some do stay but others just run.
- Things happen for a reason. That place I grew up was flooded after just two years. The damage was great to such a an old structure. In more than twenty five years of being there, it never happened, the area being on higher ground. It would have been a double whammy for me to have the house destroyed by flood and get evicted.
- Keep the faith. In the darkest of night, a single flame goes a long way. Things will work out by His grace. Indeed, there is a God with angels helping us in our lowest of the low points.
Where I now live is an old apartment built by my grandfather in the mid-sixties. Just a month after being homeless and living couch to couch, the tenant of almost thirty years, vacated the property. After another month or so of repairs, my relatives told me I could occupy the place for free. A few years later my father obtained ownership of the place. He could have gotten another one in the area or even just next door. That would have meant even more expenses if I moved there but no, he got the place where I was and immediately gave it to me. It was only then that I started to make home improvements to "jazz up" the crib.
It is in this place that I will spend my last days. It has been almost two decades since I moved in. Ever so grateful, as I wake daily, I give thanks for the "roof over my head'.
The people displaced in the demolition will somehow manage. It is just such a harrowing experience to endure for anyone.
So many things I still miss in that place where I spent most of my adolescent and adult life - my childhood friends, the convenience, peace and quiet.
Sometimes, I still just wanna go home.
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