Should it be a right or a left? - Aix, France
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Stumble It!Should it be a right or a left?
Aix, France
They marched like they weren't sure of where they were going. Past the Hôtel de Ville - should it be a right or a left? Of course, straight is another possibility, and some of them head that way, too lost in their yelling to pay attention to the others.
The signs are simple, handmade with that rushed look of emotion.
Non à la guerre!
Non à l'Irak, M. Bush!
Some were in English, working like subtitles.
No war!
No to Iraq, Mr. Bush!
Perhaps they were in English because that made the sign more of a direct appeal to Mr. Bush - See this? You can understand it, so listen to us! Or, maybe the protesters thought that CNN would arrive with helicopters and cameramen, faithfully sending their English message back to America. There, the war-hungry Americans, half-asleep in their La-Z-Boys while pretending to watch CNN because it makes them feel smart, would see the handmade signs and reconsider Iraq.
But this is Aix, not Paris or Lyon or even Marseille. War protests are covering the country today, so CNN, if in France at all, is probably parked under the Eiffel Tower or the Arc de Triomphe. Most likely, their toughest job is trying to distinguish between American tourists wanting to blend in and real French people opposed to the guerre. One group applauds itself for overcoming the new national hobby of hating all things French; the other group paradoxically soaks in American culture through Big Macs and Hollywood while lambasting its other current export: war.
Perhaps that is what makes the marchers in Aix so half-hearted - they don't know if it's possible to fight America's world influence. While they know that they should be opposed to the war, is it just the war they're fighting or American dominance in general?
They stick to the sure message: Non à la guerre.
It started with 200 people at 10am waving their signs at store windows, cafés, and nearly empty Sunday morning streets. The protesters were saying non, but who was listening? A country 6,000 miles away? A president intent on his crusade? What could their words do? Was it even necessary to be understood so long as they were making noise? Should they go to the left or to the right? There didn't seem to be a leader, just an idea pushing the marchers. They had their signs, they had their pamphlets, they had their voices. They also had a current of confusion and distrust rippling through, hidden under apparent convictions.
Their shouts, boisterous at first, echoed off the stone buildings, but when the echoes came back empty, the shouts faded. What could they stop, really? In a small town in southern France, far from decision and revision makers, the protesters clutched their signs as if that was what justified the cause.
It ended with 100 people at 11:30am dragging their signs and figuring out what to have for lunch.
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