March 16, 2006

march sixteenth

March 16th is a day of contemplation for me. Four years ago today, my grandfather passed away, a man I dearly loved and admired. Three years ago today, Rachel Corried passed away, a woman I never knew, until her death appeared all over my computer screen. Even though I didn't know Rachel, on March 16th she became a close friend, a woman I grew to admire as I read more of her last words and understood why she had stood bravely in front of that Israeli bulldozer on that fateful day.

My grandfather struggled similarly, but with something more natural, but not any less brutal: cancer. Thousands of miles away, his once strong body whithered away as the cancer spread across his soft skin and his big heart. Even when you know it's coming, you are never prepared. I wasn't in Jordan when he took his last breath, and I wasn't in Palestine when Rachel took her last breath, but I felt the loss nevertheless. And after the loss, you begin to regret many things...i wish i had spent more time with jiddo* every summer... i wish i had known rachel before they killed her...i wish i wish i wish...

None of that really matters today, we cannot turn back time, we can't change the past...but we still have a hold on the future. Rachel's words, her bravery and her selflessness intrigued me and motivated me. Why would this young student, just like me, travel half way across the world to a country she did not know, and risk her life for people she did not share anything with except the simple but priceless commonality of humanity? In my life, what have I done for the cause of justice? How could I, a Muslim, an Arab, an American...a human...not do enough for something I believe so strongly in. My grandfather too, like many in his generation, risked their lives for the this same cause...i wish i had sat with him longer, heard more of his war stories, and experienced them through his eyes.

Both of these amazing human beings have shaped the way I see the world today. A world facing a lot of injustice, but one where average people, like you, me and them, can bring a ray of hope to those who are suffering, or at least enlighten ourselves so that we do not become like those who inflict injustice upon the rest.

When I remember my grandfather and Rachel, I sometimes think to myself that they deserved to live longer...but who am I to decide that? Indeed, Allah is the most just and the most merciful and I could not go on a single day without this belief...the belief that there is a God and an afterlife in which such oppressors will face justice once and for all.

We shall meet soon insha'Allah*.

Until then jiddo, I will read your diary, hold your shmagh* tightly in my hands, admire your picture near the staircase, and pray for the day when I will see you again. I love you.

Until then Rachel, I will remember your selflessness and hope that a many more people in this world would be like you, speaking out against injustice at any cost. You did not die in vain, your life continues today and your story inspires millions to stand up and speak the truth. Your parents, friends and supporters have outdone themselves, and you would've been very proud. We shall meet one day.

*jiddo: grandpa
*insha'Allah: God-willing
*shmagh: red and white checkered traditional scarf, variations also in black and white


~*~*~*
In Rachel's own words...
Just want to write to my Mom and tell her that I'm witnessing this chronic, insidious genocide stop. I don't think it's an extremist thing to do anymore. I still really want to dance around to Pat Benatar and have boyfriends and make comics for my coworkers. But I also want this to stop. Disbelief and horror is what I feel. Disappointment. I am disappointed that this is the base reality of our world and that we, in fact, participate in it. This is not at all what I asked for when I came into this world. This is not at all what the people here asked for when they came into this world. This is not the world you and Dad wanted me to come into when you decided to have me. This is not what I meant when I looked at Capital Lake and said: "This is the wide world and I'm coming to it." I did not mean that I was coming into a world where I could live a comfortable life and possibly, with no effort at all, exist in complete unawareness of my participation in genocide. More big explosions somewhere in the distance outside.

*jiddo: grandpa
*insha'Allah: God-willing
*shmagh: red and white checkered traditional scarf, variations also in black and white


More: Rachel Corrie Foundation, EI resources, photo story, Rachel's Memorial Website

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