Month: January 2016

Peace, silence, abnormality and unnatural. All feelings I have standing in this empty stadium right now.

I see the stadium illuminated perfectly, every edge lit, I smell the perfectly cut grass and it gives me an urge to want to run onto the pitch, I feel anxious, though there is nothing happening and the game finished hours ago, it just has an anxious feel to it.

I know it is empty a lot of the time but for some reason it doesn’t feel right. I imagine scenarios in my head of what can happen in the game and what has actually happened; I imagine an amazing goal being scored and the crowd all around me going ballistic, but that’s all an imagination.

Though it’s a football stadium I can still think of many things and remember many memories, as people say an open road helps you think. The same can be said about a stadium.

It doesn’t seem right it being empty but to some its sometimes better like this. Silent yet loud, empty yet crowded.

I look around and see the people on the tour around me and the tour guide speaking but I am sure everyone is listening to their own thoughts and imagining their own image in their head, blocking out all sound without knowing it.

I see the docent slowly leading us to the changing rooms in which we’ve only walked through so far. I and the rest of the group follow along.

I stand in the changing room looking at all the player’s shirts and for some reason I can almost feel the confidence and even nervousness that the players have before the game.

I can smell the room having the champagne scent in it from the players celebrating their courageous win and enjoying it in the changing room, though it was cleaned almost instantly after they left, I can smell it and it puts a smile on my face as it was my team that finished off being the victorious.

The docent then led us to the trophy cabinets and is showing us trophies, I look at each trophy with a newspaper article about it from the time that was published and I imagine the roar of the crowd as the team lifts up the trophy with might, the look of disappointment still on the faces of the team who have lost and the smug look of overwhelming supporters for the team who have won.

I see people looking at the trophies smiling all clearly seeing their own memory of the moment, I hear the people whispering to each other silently to not disturb the silence of the hall.

The docent is now leading us towards the pitch again but this time it was clear we all had a different approach, as if somehow we are motivated and inspired for the game which wasn’t about to take place, the changing rooms and trophy hall have shown their clear purpose and reason in which why they are built in that position of the stadium.

We stood and stared at what is…the mighty Old Trafford.

Daniel Zibaee

As I make my way down Palestine street, I see 40 people crowding a coffin…all crying, hearts broken, lives ruined. This is just a fraction of whats happening in my land….

The streets I always walk down, abandoned. Now a ghost town… the people I always walk by and greet, just walk past me and do not even make eye contact. The mosque which always prays at certain times is now silent, leaving the wind and distant artillery shots to break the abnormal silence.

The buildings I always admire are all scarred with bullets. The school I would always walk by is now smashed and abandoned with the colourful street games now buried in dust and debris.

The bazaar…the place I have walked through everyday for the last 3 years…changed, I do not see anyone I recognize, it is now a beggars shelter with a horrid smell with people squeezing in for security fearing for their lives. A once peaceful joyful area brought to its knees.

Every once in a while I would see something that would take me back to 13+ years ago when we had peace, I would see children skipping in the street and playing football all happy. But that is because they are in shock and are too young to understand. Their eyes wide open like a window to the soul.

I walked down the road to see a lady limping, I place my hand on her shoulder to ask her if she needs help and the second I touched her she put her hands up and froze. Giving a look to me of fear, I was frozen from her stare, my country and my people are suffering. This is not right.

I walk into a coffee shop and see the news talking about my country. Showing my people in its worst state since 4 years ago. Children injured and families all screaming and living in tents. Their homes destroyed and no country to help us. All against us. The TV showing American helicopters shooting down on our buildings, bringing it down like it was a card house. This is my home…I cannot handle this.

Its not fair. We are civilians and have no say, we are not cared about. We are ignored. We do not need to be part of this war and never wished this, yet every day goes by and we still lose close friends and our buildings.

I enter a Mosque and see people crying their eyes out holding on to each other. Praying for this disaster to end, for the daily suffering to stop, for the innocent to not die unnecessarily. I see blood across the floor. I feel grief and powerless. I do not feel like I have a say even in my own country.

As I made my way down Palestine street, I do not feel like I am home.

Daniel Zibaee