Not a year has passed since the Big Blue, one of fifty boats in the Global Sumud Flotilla carrying the ship to Gaza, was intercepted by the Israeli navy and its entire crew locked up in a maximum security prison in the Negev Desert. Emanuela Pala, the Sardinian journalist and correspondent for Piazzapulita on La7 , recounts her experience in the book "Ostinata umanità," available in bookstores from July 22nd through Tlon. In Cagliari, the appointment with the author will be this evening at 7:30 pm at the Corto Maltese, on Lungomare Poetto.
Emanuela Pala, is humanity stubbornly repeating its own mistakes, or, despite everything, do we persist in remaining human?
Our boats carried a cargo of stubborn humanity, of people who ensure humanity's continued existence, something very difficult to comprehend in these times. A segment of the population doesn't understand this; I'm not talking about those who criticize it for their own interests, but those who simply can't grasp why such humane people exist.
The book opens with a question: what drives ordinary people to risk their lives for strangers?
That journey was very difficult, not just physically but psychologically. That's why I included the stories of the people I met, people who left knowing the risks they were taking. Like Marita, who wrote a letter to her son in case she didn't return. We knew it was a possibility.
She writes that, as a Sardinian, the Flotilla reminded her of the Pratobello revolt of 1969.
"I wrote this book not just to tell a story, but also to show that we can all do something. We saw it recently at Cala Finanza. On the boat, there wasn't even a fight, because when the goal is shared, all the differences between people and cultures fade into the background. And yet, there were Kurds and Turks on the same boat."
Hearing the Palestinian flags fluttering as she set sail, she felt part of something for the first time.
"If you're there, you can't help but feel part of something bigger. Men and women from all over the world, even from Malaysia, of every social class, nationality, and age, came to Sicily; people who felt the same emotions as you, the same sense of helplessness. You realize that you're not actually a minority, but rather, you can achieve something by uniting."
The images of your captivity are very powerful. Do they still haunt you?
"They're slowly fading, but I had to work hard on them. It was difficult."
In prison she was number 63.
"It's one of the most shocking things, but there are so many references to a past we hoped to have put behind us. As for the prison, I wanted people to understand that it's a systemic issue. And if that's the treatment meted out to us Westerners, imagine the treatment meted out to the Palestinians."
Luizianne, a Brazilian parliamentarian, says that journalism is not neutral and that memory is a form of justice.
"To be objective, a journalist must hear all sides, but he or she is not neutral. When something happens that violates our Constitution, human rights, or international law, journalism must act as a monitor."
But by recounting the present, it helps build a memory. It's a form of justice, right?
«This is why journalists aren't wanted in certain places.»
When you came back they asked you: “What did you expect?”
"Respect for human rights. After that, I have nothing else to say."
Has public attitudes toward what is happening in Gaza changed?
"I think the Flotilla, precisely because we were ordinary people, brought together many people who asked themselves, 'What am I willing to do?' Because if you turn a blind eye to something like that, you end up turning a blind eye to the small, everyday abuses as well."
The book contains a touching memory of Vittorio Arrigoni.
"Vik was the shadow of the Flotilla, he was always with us... we hoped to arrive just as he had. Because the hope of arriving was always there, right up to the end."
