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More stubbornly risen up than ever. Until they leave us in peace! Letter to Jordi Cuixart.

By Thursday November 16th, 2017 No Comments

16 November 2017
Vila de Gràcia
8th winter in crisis

Dear Jordi,

The first anomaly is this one right here. Used to emails, text messages, telegrams… we now have to write you letters in prison, 600 kilometres from our home, following the penitentiary cartography of a state that has become a prison. A metaphor that one could spare.

Despite it all, or in opposition to it all, here we are, continuing on. More risen up than ever. We’re the same, yes, but we’re also different, because we feel the bite of missing you and the long shadow of injustice, the invisible thread of absence and the visible blow of abduction. We feel it too much. At all times and in everything we do.

And still, do you know what? The only thing that they have achieved is more collective determination, more irreversible reasons and a rock-solid commitment from which there is no turning back. A commitment for life. Many thousands of people overflowed in the streets on Saturday, banishing fear and letting hope grow. Together, as always: together at the same time.

Do you know what else? You make me think about the struggles we share. You make me think about Xirinacs and when they gaoled him in Zamora, where I come from. And about Huertas Claveria. And about Vinader: the first journalist exiled and imprisoned under our democracy. The history of a people can also be explained, bar by bar, through the history of its prisons and its prisoners.

I was thinking about that whilst hearing that some are asking you for explanations. And I am very tempted to ask those who need explanations for explanations. With 700 mayors under investigation, 1,066 people wounded, half a government imprisoned and the other half in exile, 200 websites shut down, Roger blinded in one eye by a rubber bullet and you and Jordi Sànchez in Soto del Real, I find it unimpressive that they ask you for explanations. It must be the ever-perverse logic of the elections.

It’s not like you have to be silent. Anyone who knows you knows that you are a man of your word. Who has said and heard it all. Who learns and shares. Whose actions have a multiplying effect. Who loves to give explanations and make yourself understood. But we have a problem: we have memory. Time, the sternest judge of all, the polygraph of history, puts everything in place. Because we have always believed, and still do, that we just have to give it time. And I think about the periodicals library. And when, I hope very soon, with your freedom regained and to make up for lost time, you will be able to see how many thousands there were, a democratic tidal wave, who shouted until they were hoarse for your freedom. And just a few, very few, who asked you for explanations. The Inquisition has always been like that. For it is as someone said: “We don’t have to be ashamed that they’re in prison, but they do”.

To write is to wait for you. To wait for all of you. Because writing to you is like writing to you all. With the howls of repressive authoritarianism, with the state turned into a prison, your imprisonment is what spurs it on to grow bigger and better. Always, incessantly, and without losing heart. Until you (all) are freed. For that is freedom for all. Letters to the prison again. Against all the walls. Knowing that you are there because we are there. And vice-versa. Carles, Dolors, Oriol, Meritxell, Josep, Turull, Joaquim, Raül Sànchez and you. The rest, you already know too well: Catalonia with direct rule imposed, everybody under a grade 3 regime and, for precisely that reason, more stubbornly risen up than ever. Until they leave us in peace!

I LOVE YOU
(and I miss you)

David Fernàndez