Eight young female bodies are lying in a tent, breathing in unison and protecting the rifles under their mattresses, waiting for the next mission. Their nightmares during the night and the daydreams of army’s everyday life are experienced together.
They learn to survive, they salute their dead comrades, and also learn that the mattresses belonging to soldiers who commited suicide will be thrown away. Still the eight young soldiers will be among the martyrs who fell for their country. Again and again the soldiers circle the multiple possibility of their own death. What dies in a person when they operate the trigger of a loaded gun? When does the dispossession of your own body begin?
Memories of childhood weave themselves into the spiral-shaped experience of the loss of self: when the father drummed on the steering wheel as the small family drove through the country safely in a camper van: »And the family is carried in this camper as in a belly of an animal that runs through a burning land. Why does the animal run towards the fire?«
In the fourth part of her tetralogy, Let The Blood Come Out To Show Them, writer Sivan Ben Yishai holds a ceremony of memory. Which visible and invisible traces does serving the so-called fatherland leave in a person?
I wanted to ask,
I really wanted to ask,
who was the one who said:
»Honey, it’s just a dream, go back to sleep«,
and deported me back to my war.
Photo: Foto Esra Rotthoff