It is happening almost next door

I should be writing about happy things here on my blog, but sometimes something just shocks me so much, that I cannot be quiet. I happened to meet a man the other day, in one of the inns near my home. He looked quite a decent man although I could see that he was a drunkard. Later Ž told me about him. Well, actually about his wife. Who was at that time when we were there chatting, lying in a hospital having a surgery. Her husband was drinking instead of staying with his children at home. He is my age and when I coincidentally spoke to another man there, he hushed me and said: "You should love Ž, he is a good man." Later when I thought about this, I realized that he had done this out of pure jealousy.

So, what's the story? His wife was raped by her dad. Not only once, but constantly, until her brother killed him. Later this poor woman had been raped by four men, who were not charged as guilty. They walk around free as birds today... Her brother died in a car accident on a day when she was giving birth to her first child. A child conceived by one of those four men. Then she got married. With the most jealous man I have ever met in my life. She has three children now and she lives in a barn, because her man spends all his money for a drink. He is not able to give her and his children a proper home. She has to stay at home most of the time because he doesn't allow her to be free like I am or you are. She has to go into the house (barn) when another man comes to visit. She is not allowed to see other men. Most probably she beats her and her children. I pray that something good happens to this woman. She deserves to be happy and free. We all do.

I cried when I heard this story. All this is happening somewhere near my home.

This land, where I live, was given to poor people about 100 years ago. For free. They just had to cultivate it. Those people who came to live here where I live today, had no flowers planted around their homes and their door were not decorated as in other parts of the country. Soulless people. Natives are still known as violent and if I look around, they are also people without any imagination. I am glad that my neighbors come from all around the county. They are normal bunch of people, at least most of them. I avoid the natives. And I am sure that I will not live here forever. It is too depressing for me, this moorland. Especially now when I know what kind of people live almost next door. Scary, I tell you.

Yesterday I was in one of the huts in the mountains again. Ž had forgotten his flip flops there. The photo of the skis was taken on the way back home. I used to have similar skis when I was about four years old. They were dark red. My first skis. I haven't been skiing for more than 15 years, hopefully this year I will stand on them again. But who knows! Life is so full of surprises.