It has been said before but perhaps never with such conviction: We are living in strange times. Everything is turned around. Not just upside down, but sideways.
And it looks like we are not even close to the light, let alone the end of the tunnel.
I worked as a digital librarian with Al Jazeera English for ten years and I saw things that no one really wants or needs to see.
But that was my job – to witness and save and ensure that the images would be available for future generations.
But I was still once-removed. The real horrors were everywhere, the look in the eyes of those actually living that life, struggling to survive outside forces that really and truly had no reason to be bombing them or starving them or even killing them.
And it is now clear that now things are much worse, not better. Those of us lucky enough to live in ‘the West’ are largely immune and protected from the horrors, just so long as we can refrain from looking at the TV or our bluescreens.
Hawkins Bay is not only a culmination of the things I saw during those years, and the time since, but a homage to those who, through no fault of their own, did not make it out alive.
It is written for the lost, the homeless and the marginalized whose only crimes were to have been born in the wrong place -whether in the West or beyond- and were forced to fight, for as long and as hard as they could, for their day of retribution.
Revenge can never replace what was lost, but sometimes revenge is all we have left.