Brian’s
guests are multicultural, multilingual. “I have 25 to 30 languages
on this pavement.” Sony from China painted a Chinese proverb for
Brian in Chinese: “Treat your old people as you should and extend
this to the old people of others. Treat your young people as you
should, and extend this to the young people of others.”
Brian
wishes that the British government would adopt this proverb and stop
“killing the children of Iraq and Afghanistan,” who are, he
believes, as beautiful as the British children. “I see the
world’s children going by here and all their different colors.
Which one of them is more cute and more lovable than the other? They
are all the same. They are all beautiful in different ways, like the
flowers in the field.”
For
the same reason, father-of-seven Brian Haw has been away from his
own children for four years. “How can I look my own child in the
eye, in the face, and say I love my child while I allow my country
to torture and murder your child?”
“[People]
are encouraged to think ‘What can I do? I am nobody.’ Hey, you are
not; you are somebody.”
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Then
he expresses sorrow for the children of Afghanistan. Afghans, too,
visit Brian. “Up in the mountains in Afghanistan, they know all
about me.” Also, from Turkey, he hosted Mustafa, who brought over
a placard in Turkish for display on the pavement.
And
in addition to the nice, supportive guests, Brian receives
aggressive ones. “I get everybody here. I get the best and the
worst, lovely people and wicked ones.” As a former carpenter, he
considers himself capable of telling good people from bad ones, just
like telling good furniture from bad furniture.
The
number and variety of visitors encourage Brian, giving him a hint
that he is having an influence, and proving that one individual can
make a difference. “You’re where you are, doing what you are
meant to do, and I’m where I am doing what I am—we are all part
of a picture. ... The reason it’s not happening is that there are
too many pieces missing, and there are too many good people who
should be standing and doing their part, but people are discouraged
and frightened, and they are encouraged to think ‘What can I do? I
am nobody.’ Hey, you are not; you are somebody.”
“You
imagine if all of the good people were to stand up all at once: Wow!
That’s it; we’ve had enough. We will stop this terrible business
[of war].”
Brian’s
spirit of resolve is stimulating his perseverance to continue his
protest—possibly the longest in history—on “his pavement,”
even though the British government has tried to stop him in every
way. Most recently, on April 6, 2005, the Serious Organised Crime
and Police Bill was passed, banning unauthorized protest within a
one-kilometer radius of Parliament. The Act was passed primarily to
stop Brian Haw’s demonstration.
But
Brian is still determined to go on. He believes the law is unjust.
“How can you have a law to stop me from saying ‘Stop killing our
kids’? ... My country is breaking the greatest law of all [by
invading and occupying Iraq] and I am supposed to be the guilty one
because I am saying stop it? We have to stand up for what is good
and what’s right.”
He
is planning to appeal in the High Court and pursue every way
possible to carry on his protest, and he calls upon all activists
and supporters not to give up.
“To
the good people of America, and the good people of Britain, and the
good people of Egypt, and the good people everywhere: Time to get
up, people. Time to stand up for justice. Hope. Salam
(peace). `Adl lil jami` (justice for all). Shalom. Love.
Peace. Justice for All. Peace Now. In sha’ Allah (God
willing).”
As
Brian wrapped up his words, he got distracted by a group of deaf and
dumb children who started to communicate with him via sign language
with the help of their interpreter. He welcomed them, as he always
welcomes his guests, and bid me farewell.