Evocation of Emotion
A few days ago a variety of things happened that evoke from me feelings of fear, nostalgia, and grief. I will start first with the nostalgia. Mustafa had visitors today. His wife, his brother and his daughter. His daughter is the same age as Leila, and as she sat on his lap and he kissed her and played with her, I remembered doing the same with Leila.
The second nostalgic thing that occurred is that anytime I’ve talked to this one Iraqi after his surgery he reminds me of my wife. That sounds odd especially considering that he is probably triple her weight, blond, male and has a mustache. Hear me out. When he is in pain he makes the same sigh and rolls his eyes back in the same way my wife does when she is incredibly sick. Kind of a weird way to be reminded of ones life partner, but stranger things have happened.
An event that caused me grief was seeing a soldier without his shirt on staring at his feet, while he bled slightly onto the ground. He waited as the helicopter took his badly injured friend to another facility, and sat in silent contemplation probably about his other buddy who had just died. Right now I remember how my wife reacted when a bomb exploded next to two soldiers and only one was left afterwards in “Fahrenheit 911” (a film I didn’t like at all) as she exclaimed “Ya Allah! Waen Sadiqhu? Where is his friend!?” or “Oh my God where is his friend?!”. I can’t even imagine. He sat there with blood stained hands, and pants and boots. His hands and face were covered in ash, and peppered marks of blood from many many tiny but mostly harmless wounds covered his chest arms and abdomen though a single tattoo of a small American flag was unmarked. This soldier sitting their miserably in grief gave me grief as well.
The second event I saw that filled me with grief was about Naeem. His father was shown into the room for a visit. When he saw that his sun had lost a leg. He moaned loudly. I offered my hand which he squeezed tightly as he fell to his knees as he put his clinched fist towards his hair, with a clear desire to pull it out. I got him a chair though he would not sit.
After a moment I informed him that I knew where his other son was and that I would take him to him. Half way there I stopped him to speak with him. I told him his son was very depressed about his leg. I told him that I knew as a father what it might feel like to see this and that nothing could stop the pain. My important point was that no matter how hard it is to see it he must keep his composure and help his son to keep up his spirit, for it is hard to see a child lose a leg, but the feelings of self worth for an amputee rivals even that. I was not so high in my language. I am incapable of it. But I am sure he understood and we continued to see his second son.
The second son was in the ward and they talked a bit and then discussed the event. The news article was correct on the number of dead for the event. The father when he talked to his son about it was the one who was incorrect. The father swore one number. The problem is that the number was one higher than what the son said. The father reiterated the number and stressed that the terrorist responsible had been killed as well. As I listened I realized that a situation had developed. The son told the father that the terrorist was still alive and began pointing to the other end of the ward. The man responsible for the deaths and the lost leg of this mans son was less than 20 meters away, he had looked him in the eye coming in and he now knew it, and for the first time so did I.
The guard had had a different story from the news and the two Iraqi soldiers, and I never put two and two together. Though I hated what this man had done and stood for, I feared for him at that moment. I think it kind of goes without saying that the people in the hospital might have told each other or mentioned it to me that the injuries of the detainee and the Iraqi soldiers were from the same event. I admit they were busy. We had more Iraqi patients today than most days, and they were all running around rather franticly.
While they all wanted to go to the other end of the room to exit. We made sure they didn’t. Suddenly they wanted to stay and visit longer. After a time we took them back to Naeem, and they eventually left, but with a close eye on them the whole time. There was no question that they would have killed that man if we allowed it. When they discussed it in anger as we used the second exit I simply said two words “Qadi and Ijtihad.” Anyway had things gone poorly today and the men managed to kill our prisoner, no doubt the news would have painted the event as “typical” of our base, which it is not.
That ends my draining story for the day. I finished up my visit taking pictures of some of the new patients. I followed that with a visit to the administrative office telling them what had happened and advising them to have the father, and the unit of the soldiers escorted at all times. Apparently we also had an Iraqi Army unit visit and one of my friends was working the logistics of trying to accommodate them while they were here. I am sure it was a grueling day for him as well. I think it was about 120 today or something close to it. It was very hot. Oh by the way I spelled "son" as "sun" on purpose up above. Anyway that is all I have until next time…
Salaam
Abu Yusef
The second nostalgic thing that occurred is that anytime I’ve talked to this one Iraqi after his surgery he reminds me of my wife. That sounds odd especially considering that he is probably triple her weight, blond, male and has a mustache. Hear me out. When he is in pain he makes the same sigh and rolls his eyes back in the same way my wife does when she is incredibly sick. Kind of a weird way to be reminded of ones life partner, but stranger things have happened.
An event that caused me grief was seeing a soldier without his shirt on staring at his feet, while he bled slightly onto the ground. He waited as the helicopter took his badly injured friend to another facility, and sat in silent contemplation probably about his other buddy who had just died. Right now I remember how my wife reacted when a bomb exploded next to two soldiers and only one was left afterwards in “Fahrenheit 911” (a film I didn’t like at all) as she exclaimed “Ya Allah! Waen Sadiqhu? Where is his friend!?” or “Oh my God where is his friend?!”. I can’t even imagine. He sat there with blood stained hands, and pants and boots. His hands and face were covered in ash, and peppered marks of blood from many many tiny but mostly harmless wounds covered his chest arms and abdomen though a single tattoo of a small American flag was unmarked. This soldier sitting their miserably in grief gave me grief as well.
The second event I saw that filled me with grief was about Naeem. His father was shown into the room for a visit. When he saw that his sun had lost a leg. He moaned loudly. I offered my hand which he squeezed tightly as he fell to his knees as he put his clinched fist towards his hair, with a clear desire to pull it out. I got him a chair though he would not sit.
After a moment I informed him that I knew where his other son was and that I would take him to him. Half way there I stopped him to speak with him. I told him his son was very depressed about his leg. I told him that I knew as a father what it might feel like to see this and that nothing could stop the pain. My important point was that no matter how hard it is to see it he must keep his composure and help his son to keep up his spirit, for it is hard to see a child lose a leg, but the feelings of self worth for an amputee rivals even that. I was not so high in my language. I am incapable of it. But I am sure he understood and we continued to see his second son.
The second son was in the ward and they talked a bit and then discussed the event. The news article was correct on the number of dead for the event. The father when he talked to his son about it was the one who was incorrect. The father swore one number. The problem is that the number was one higher than what the son said. The father reiterated the number and stressed that the terrorist responsible had been killed as well. As I listened I realized that a situation had developed. The son told the father that the terrorist was still alive and began pointing to the other end of the ward. The man responsible for the deaths and the lost leg of this mans son was less than 20 meters away, he had looked him in the eye coming in and he now knew it, and for the first time so did I.
The guard had had a different story from the news and the two Iraqi soldiers, and I never put two and two together. Though I hated what this man had done and stood for, I feared for him at that moment. I think it kind of goes without saying that the people in the hospital might have told each other or mentioned it to me that the injuries of the detainee and the Iraqi soldiers were from the same event. I admit they were busy. We had more Iraqi patients today than most days, and they were all running around rather franticly.
While they all wanted to go to the other end of the room to exit. We made sure they didn’t. Suddenly they wanted to stay and visit longer. After a time we took them back to Naeem, and they eventually left, but with a close eye on them the whole time. There was no question that they would have killed that man if we allowed it. When they discussed it in anger as we used the second exit I simply said two words “Qadi and Ijtihad.” Anyway had things gone poorly today and the men managed to kill our prisoner, no doubt the news would have painted the event as “typical” of our base, which it is not.
That ends my draining story for the day. I finished up my visit taking pictures of some of the new patients. I followed that with a visit to the administrative office telling them what had happened and advising them to have the father, and the unit of the soldiers escorted at all times. Apparently we also had an Iraqi Army unit visit and one of my friends was working the logistics of trying to accommodate them while they were here. I am sure it was a grueling day for him as well. I think it was about 120 today or something close to it. It was very hot. Oh by the way I spelled "son" as "sun" on purpose up above. Anyway that is all I have until next time…
Salaam
Abu Yusef
posted by Abu Yusef at 9:19 PM
5 Comments:
wow tough day, may Allah give you the patience to survive thro these days...
btw Allah Rehemhu, is in the past tense, i think it should be Yarhemhu
Just out of curiosity are you fleunt... or do you struggle along like I do (less than I do most likely). I imagine you probably read much better... being raised to read the Quran and living in an Arabic household probably helps.
I'll double check thanks. If you ever see anything else don't hesitate. I still need to go back and do a scrub of some of my English to...
LOL
Salaam
Abu Yusef
Salam
That was a very sad day indeed. Sorry to hear. And mashaAllah you handled it pretty well. More like, you survived through it.
Usually, when I end up in situations like that, I have mixed feelings going through my head. Dont know what exactly I am feeling. And end up not reacting at all sometimes - an advantage most of the time.
When I was in highschool, I wanted to join the army medical college, because I wanted to see and feel and know what it is like to be amongst them. And I wanted to work there too. Too bad my dad dint want the same.
Anyways, InshaAllah there will come better days.
i wish i was fluent in arabic, it would help me in history taking, but my parents actually learnt english for us(me and my bro) cos at the time we were living in an english speaking country, but my arabic is functional:)
when i was in highschool i also had this aim to study medicine to end up in chechnya helping the ppl over there...since then my goals have changed, im now aiming for iraq:)
Thanks for the comments guys...
it is Allah yerehemhu... but when it is spoken the 3rd person prefix seems to kind of combine with the "ah" sound at the end of Allah making it difficult to hear with my english ear...
Anyway thanks again
Salaam
Abu Yusef
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