Gil Mildar
As the song says, a Latin American with no money in his pocket.

What’s happening?

I woke up sweaty, gasping, with my heart pounding like the street music in Jaffa on a summer night. The nightmare was still fresh in my mind: Benjamin Netanyahu, our Bibi, with a loose tie and an enigmatic smile, singing “My Way” in a karaoke bar in the Philippines. The scene was so absurd that I swear I saw Kafka at a plastic table, with a San Miguel beer, writing frantically.

Just imagine Bibi holding the microphone with the same firmness he has power, adjusting his voice, and starting to sing. “And now, the end is near, so I face the final curtain…” The Filipino audience, a mix of unsuspecting tourists and regular locals, watched in perplexity, sipping their beers, trying to understand what the Israeli leader was doing there. And I, trapped in the nightmare, could only think: “I need to change my medication.”

Netanyahu threw himself into the song with the same passion he puts into disrespecting our intelligence. “I’ve loved, I’ve laughed and cried, I’ve had my fill, my share of losing…” Sure, Bibi, you’ve lived, laughed, and cried, but we’re the ones who paid the price. Governing Israel is not karaoke, but he insists on treating the country like a fair in Ariel, where every decision is a discordant note, and we, the spectators, are just hoping for the song to end soon.

The choice of song couldn’t have been more symbolic. “My Way” in the Philippines has an almost macabre history, with reports of fights and even homicides caused by disastrous renditions. And there was Bibi, fearless, facing the challenge like it was just another no-confidence motion. With timid applause and looks of “What’s happening?” the audience participated in this surreal show.

That’s when Kafka, from the other side of the bar, raised his glass and offered me a sip of his San Miguel with an ironic smile. “Even I couldn’t imagine a scene like this,” he commented, “thanks for the invite.” I nodded in acknowledgment, still stunned by the surrealism of it all.

When Bibi reached the part, “I did it my way,” I almost woke up laughing. Of course, he did it his way. He always has. And we, the extras in this theater of the absurd, were relegated to the role of mere spectators. Governing is an art, but he prefers the improvised solo without listening to anyone or taking suggestions.

I woke up with the feeling that the nightmare wasn’t over. It was just beginning. Israel feels like one big off-key karaoke, with Bibi insisting on singing his way while we endure the auditory torture. And the most ironic part? No one seems to have the courage to grab the microphone and change the song.

I got up, had a strong coffee, and faced the day with one certainty: reality always shows it can be worse than fiction. Either that or the next nightmare would be Bibi singing “Despacito” with Javier Milei doing backup vocals at an Argentine barbecue. And honestly, I don’t think my heart could take it.

But deep down, between sips of coffee, I realized the problem wasn’t the nightmare. It was the reality it reflected. We want a new song, one that everyone can sing together in harmony. Because, let’s face it, no one deserves to spend their life listening to an off-key and poorly rehearsed solo.

About the Author
As a Brazilian, Jewish, and humanist writer, I embody a rich cultural blend that influences my worldview and actions. Six years ago, I made the significant decision to move to Israel, a journey that not only connects me to my ancestral roots but also positions me as an active participant in an ongoing dialogue between the past, present, and future. My Latin American heritage and life in Israel have instilled a deep commitment to diversity, inclusion, and justice. Through my writing, I delve into themes of authoritarianism, memory, and resistance, aiming not just to reflect on history but to actively contribute to the shaping of a more just and equitable future. My work is an invitation for reflection and action, aspiring to advance human dignity above all.
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