II.

Can you hear the silence? That faint silence of our forest? That eerie silence? Try to listen to it. Can you hear the branches of the trees swaying? Maybe they aren’t trees. Maybe they are ancient Roman and Teutonic warriors.

They’re coming. I’m cold. Hear that? Someone has lit a fire somewhere. They are close. We have to go to them. Can you hear the fire crackling? I’m cold. Find that fire and take me to it. Pour me a drink. Another one. It’s good that it’s burning.

They’re not here yet, but they’ll come soon. The old warriors. Pour me another, and pour one for yourself. Drink up. No, don’t worry. It’s not blood. It’s just the colour. Pour me another one. And light one up for me. Give it to me. Listen to the forest and try to listen to me too. Because what I am about to tell you, no-one else can. I’m the only one who can teach you about life. I’m the only one who can save you. So sit down, pour yourself a drink, and listen.

 

III.

They call me Vandam. They call me that because I can do two hundred press-ups, just like Van Damme. How many press-ups can you do? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. You don’t have to, but you can. I mean, you really should know. You should be ready. You should get in training. And you shouldn’t listen to them. You should only listen to yourself. To your instincts. Not your brain, your instincts. But listen to me now. They tell you that there is peace.

They tell you that right now the war is on the other side of the planet and that it is very far away, that it might as well be a completely different planet than the one you live on.

They tell you that you’re lucky that you don’t have to go to war because you live in the Czech valley where there is peace and quiet – and where the only war being fought today is in your belly. When you have pork, sauerkraut, dumplings and beer, you experience a real Stalingrad in your guts. They tell you that you should be happy. They tell you that you should appreciate this. They tell you that you should give them your vote in the elections. They tell you that they mean well by you. They tell you that you have your rights.

They tell you that you should take out a loan and a mortgage and credit. They tell you that you should buy things and let yourself be bought.

They tell you that you should be happy and smiling and carefree and considerate and nice. They tell you that although you can get pissed off by politicians, that’s the only thing you can do.

They tell you that everyone makes a mistake at some point. They tell you that they really mean well. They tell you that they are here for you. They tell you that you have to be happy.

They tell you that debt will solve everything for you. They tell you that you don’t exist unless you are in debt. Get into debt and you’ll have a future because you have payments to make. And suddenly you have your place in the world.

They tell you that if you leave them in peace, they’ll leave you in peace too. They tell you that tunnels are the most important constructions in the world.

They tell you that this is freedom and democracy. They tell you that capitalism equals freedom and democracy. They tell you that nothing better than this exists. And if you say that it might exist, then straight away you’re a communist or a Nazi.

They tell you that even if it finally goes to shit somewhere, the rest of the boat will be righted and the hole will be plugged up, money will continue to be printed so that you don’t stress about it. Everything can be put back together again.

They tell you that you should be satisfied. But I know how it is. Life has taught me a thing or two. I know that politics is just a game of shadows in the background that keep the politicians in line and have cars with the numbers 1111 and 6666 and 1010 on them. It’s these magic numbers, and not the politicians, that decide everything everywhere.

I know that there is a war. That each of us has carried war within us from the beginning of all time, because human history is just the history of wars and battles and conquests. Just like living with a woman.

But that’s another story. I just want to say to you that I know that within us the future soldiers are marching and the future commanders are swaggering about, because peace is only an illusion, because we are always at war. Waiting for war. In the interval between wars. Peace has never lasted for long round here – I know, because I’m interested in history, wars and warlords. There will always be someone who wants to trample over us here and we’ve always let them. Yeah, maybe that’s one way to survive here, but then again maybe not. Peace is just the interval between wars. My grandmother always used to say, “Eat up, lad, because when the war comes again the fat will be thin and the thin will be cold.” And she was right. My grandmother also used to say, “Peace is just the interval between wars. So you’ve got to be ready. You’ve got to be strong. You’ve got to train. Those who aren’t ready are done for.”

Yes, I’m a warrior – but a peacemaker warrior! My hands aren’t covered in blood but in paint. All the great warriors wanted to keep the peace, and the fact that they didn’t succeed, that it all went wrong, was not their fault; it was down to a stupid set of circumstances and coincidences. If you want peace, prepare for war, as the saying goes. And it’s true.

If you ask me, the people responsible for war are those who retreat and apologize and pray and apologize and then retreat again. Until suddenly there’s nowhere left to retreat to. There’s nothing I’d like more on this Earth than eternal peace. I really mean that, but at the same time I’m a realist. Eternal peace is still a long way off. I know this because I can see what’s in front of me. I can read the signals, follow a trail like a hound and find north, which is probably the only good thing they taught me at the Pioneer camp. But that’s another story. I just want to say to you that I want to be at peace with everyone, and especially with myself, because that’s the most important thing – you have to remember that. You have to start with yourself if you want to change something for the better. You have to be reconciled with yourself. You have to conclude the great Peace of Westphalia with yourself, that famous peace which once upon a time saved Europe. For a while. So train. Concentrate.

Breathe in. Breathe out. OK. OK.

I’m reconciled with myself. I’ve concluded that Peace of Westphalia with myself because I know a thing or two about life. No, fuck off! Don’t say that! I’m not a Nazi. This isn’t blood – it’s paint. I’m a Roman. A European. That’s what I believe in. In ideals. In culture. The March on Rome. We’re all Romans anyway. But I am who I am, I’m Vandam, I know about life, I know about all the battles in the world. All the battles lost. All the battles won. After all, it always depends on your point of view. It depends which side of the barricades you’re standing on at that moment. You might win. You might lose. But the main thing is you have to be there. I know how it all kicked off at the Teutoburg Forest in 9 AD. I know what happened in May 1434 at Lipany.

 

(Translated from the Czech by Graeme Dibble)