Fréttablaðið - 12.11.2022, Page 27

Hello everyone! I think you are all home, safe and no doubt
tethered, with pleasure, to our shared experience over
the past few weeks. As I write this, tears appear, and I am
glad. I love you all.
In connection with the information, I just shared with you,
I would like to tell you a very (not really) brief story.
It is important.
Tiphaine, Anais and I were in the hotel room that we
shared for a few days in Reykjavik. Hotel Borg. Our tower
windows looked down onto Austurvollur Square in front
of our hotel and our view included the Parliament House
of Iceland building which is also on the park. One morning,
as we were getting ready to go downstairs for breakfast,
we noticed a small group gathering in the center of the
square, in the center, where two paths intersect from
corner to corner and where a statue of Iceland’s leader of
independence movement, Jon Sigurdsson stands.
Well, we hurried down to the park, forgetting our coats, it
was a cold and sunny morning. Arriving to find a group of
Iranians in a small crescent, thirty women, men, babies,
and a few children. Young and old and ALL standing with
great humility, dignity, respect, a touch of fear, and I
would add…sadness….and all gently vailed with
determination despite their small numbers.
The three of us took a few minutes to orient to what we
were seeing and hearing, feeling too. In that time, the
group began playing a song from their homeland on a
very small and inadequate Bluetooth speaker. To me, it’s
inadequacy gave it more strength and was aligned with
the group that placed it out in front. After a few songs we
were handed handwritten lines to a poem or a song, I do
not remember which. I can tell you that the words left our
lips together as we three joined the crescent.
NO ONE! from the parliament building looked out a window
or opened a door…. nothing. I am quite angry still.
One cyclist road through the group, unyielding.
The crescent gently opened and closed.
Tiphaine and Anais sent me off to NYC this on that day
with so many tears.
On the plane I was sitting next to a woman, we will call her
Ana Carolina from Brazil. As it happens, Ana Carolina is a
human rights lawyer for an exceptionally large law firm
that practices mostly human and environmental litigation.
We never paused our conversation through the flight.
Ana Carolina came from very humble beginnings and
through grants and scholarships was able to experience
a brilliant education which included years at The London
School of Economics. When I “wove her the web” (as we
sailors will do) of the seen in the square and the Iranians,
I expressed that I was at a loss as to what I could do to
help. Her reply was “you are helping at this moment.”
And so now again here and please if you can…. spread
this word.
I am only just realizing that I have not mentioned the
cause behind all of this. It is not necessary, is it?
My love to you all, Robert.
souverianwhale@gmail.com
It has now been 57 days since her passing.
This story was written to the 30 shipmates that
I spent the previous few weeks sailing with.
Here, “everyone” is really everyone.
For Mahsa Amini and All Others
Living Under Oppression