121 Contact

May 13 2009 America: why you put islamist iranian occupation in Iraq?

Sometimes I am stunned by the clarity of the words that come out of Iraq. Here is a concise view, held by many Iraqis, that puts the American troop occupation in perspective. It is not the most important factor in this man's life. He is more affected by the rise of Islamists in his previously secular nation.

He knows that the U.S. troops will leave sooner or later. He knows that the imposition of Islamist terror will keep his beloved Iraq from progress. He knows the violence will continue because of the puppet government we installed, and its bent toward violent suppression of dissent.

And yet he is willing to open dialogue between his students and ours. Maybe we haven't driven all the hope out of Baghdad.
b

i saw your blog and i like the idea. I am Iraqi professor, I will give your contact to my students.

i would like to ask americans why they attacked us while iraqi had no role in 11th sept? And the terrorist who blowed themself in innocents in USA and world wide were not Iraqi, most of them were saudi and from egypt and UAE.

why america did not take revenge from saudi and came to take revenge from poor iraqi people?

and they still till now.

another question; after fall of saddam why modern america brought us islamists to govern us and they convert us from modern secular state to islamic stupid state on iranian model. they told us that they will bring us democracy and freedom but they put us in big jail under stupid islamic parties who believe in stupid myths and believe in killing language.

only that is iraq today under 2 occupation one of them is USA military stupid occupation and the other is more dangerous which is islamic iranian occupation.  we may get rid of US army sooner or later but it is very hard to get ride of iranian and islamic parties who threat by killing any one who resist them-because they call him infidel so any one who refuse to cooperate with islamists considered as enemy to god and you know what that is means.

that is the biggest not mentioned problem that america put us in and all americans should know it. we don't need democracy but we need secularism because by secularism most of developed countries get their development.

regards

--
Reported Security incidents, May 12, 2009:

Baghdad:
#1: A mortar round hit the Green Zone at 5 a.m. Monday. No casualties were reported.

Taji:
#1: A roadside bomb targeted the Head of Sahwa in Taji area, northern Baghdad killing him and injuring two civilians who were with him in the car. Some reports said that they were his sons but Iraqi Police did not confirm it.

Diyala Prv:
Khanaqin:
#1: Six Iraqi servicemen on Tuesday were wounded when an improvised explosive device (IED) targeted their patrol vehicle near Baaquba city, according to a local security source. “Today, an explosive device targeted an Iraqi army infantry patrol in Naft Khana area of Khanaqin district (155 km northeast of Baaquba), wounding six patrolmen,” the source told Aswat al-Iraq news agency.

A roadside bomb targeted an Iraqi Army foot patrol in the town of Naft Khana 120 km to the northeast of Baquba at 1 p.m. Tuesday injuring six servicemen, three of whom are in a critical condition.

Mandili:
#1: The body of a 13 year old girl who was kidnapped two days ago in the town of Mendili was found by Iraqi Police Tuesday. She had been shot several times. No ransom had been demanded.

Tikrit:
#1: Fires on Tuesday ate U.S. fuel tanker when a roadside bomb targeted a U.S. convoy north of Tikrit city, said a source from Salah al-Din police. “The attack took place on the highway, 5 km north of Tikrit,” the source told Aswat al-Iraq news agency. “The destiny of the tanker’s driver is unknown,” he said.The U.S. forces have not commented yet on this issue.

Kirkuk:
#1: A suicide bomber aboard a small pick-up truck slammed into an Iraqi police patrol in the tense northern city of Kirkuk on Tuesday, killing six people and injuring 14, police said. The attack in the southern district of the oil rich city killed at least three policemen while three policemen were also among the injured, local police major Salam Zangana said.

#2: A car bomb went off on Monday targeting a police vehicle patrol in southern Kirkuk, killing two civilians and injuring eight, the chief of the Kirkuk police said. “A car crammed with explosives, parked near al-Adl mosque in al-Asra neighborhood in southern Kirkuk, went off, killing two civilians and injuring eight, including three policemen,” General Tourhan Abdulrahman told Aswat al-Iraq news agency.

Mosul:
#1: A former army officer was killed on Monday by unknown gunmen in northeastern Mosul, a security source said. “Unknown gunmen killed a candidate of al-Hadbaa list of the recent local elections when they shot him in al-Muthanna neighborhood in northeastern Mosul,” the source told Aswat al-Iraq news agency. “The victim, Rakan Aziz, a former army brigadier, took part in the recent local elections held last January in he province, but did nit succeed,” he added, noting that he was assassinated while he was leaving al-Arqam mosque on Monday afternoon (May 11).

#2: Gunmen killed a policeman in Suq Al-Maash neighborhood in Mosul while he was in his off-duty.

#3: Gunmen on foot opened fire upon the guards of the Governorate building in Ghazi Street, central Mosul Monday morning killing one guard and injuring another while they were on duty.

Aug 8 2008 Segregation boxes: old Iraqi Resistance recruitment tool?

One of the teachers in Baghdad to participate in 121Contact disappeared one day. So let’s make believe this is true. That way I don’t have to change names to protect the innocent. It’s all like fiction: too hard to believe anyway. It seems we have been using wooden boxes to house prisoners since at least the Spring of ’05, but we are only hearing of it in our media now…

It was way back, let’s see, in the Spring of ‘05, when Haythem stopped writing to us. He had been a mathematics teacher in a boys high school in a relatively quiet neighborhood in Baghdad. Growing up on a farm across the river in Diyala gave him a love of the countryside he never lost. After his capture and release he fled there. His grandparents still live there.

In our early emails we joked about his bravery in keeping in touch with Americans and steering his students in this direction of understanding the invaders. He said he was the Lion of Baghdad, joking that such a thin man could be so strong.

He was beloved by his students, and his tales of teaching were an early lesson to me (my teacher-self) of how very much alike we all are; teacher and student, Iraqi and American. I remember how vividly he wrote of his teaching days…One email described a day he was fooling around with his students—shaking a can of soda. Everyone in the class was laughing but then the headmaster opened the door and entered the room. The soda can hissed quietly beneath Haythem’s palm.

An instantaneous silence fell and the headmaster, scowling with hands on hips said, “Who is making this noise here?”

No one answered. “You will come to my office,” he growled at Haythem, “when this session is ended,” and he left, slamming the door behind him.

The faces of the students were sad. Their teacher and friend was going to be in trouble. Slowly Haythem allowed a smile to come to his young face, and then the students, one by one, smiled softly also. It would all be OK. It was always thus. A scolding and then it would all be OK.

And one day he stopped writing. After months of emails he stopped and the emails from his students to students in Brooklyn stopped also. I didn’t know why.

What happened to this young man? Why did he break off he relationships with Americans? Why did he refuse to have anything to do with anyone who had anything to do with Americans? Why were there rumors that he had joined the mukawama to take part in the resistance army that vowed to kill all occupiers?

His last email to us:

Dear Bruce,

I didn’t stop thinking of you yesterday night as I was trying to write poetry. That was too difficult to do one line as there are too [many] things in mind that I’m too busy with.

One of my students got killed a few days ago. He is Ha’al. Do you remember when I told you that so as to give a sense of humor I gonna divide my students into groups? I mentioned the fattest one, he was Ha’al, one of my lovely students, always on the first desk, always smiling and joking. I can’t understand how he died. I have read the black banner in which they wrote his name and address. They made a funeral for him.

Myself I was lucky twice to be alive. I came too late from Baghdad when I found the market of [my town] was shut. No one was there but few Americans. In the darkness beside the police station I felt strange. The bus driver refused to complete the way. He decided to go back so he stopped in front of them. They were scared as they were attacked so they started shouting [shooting] at the bus. When I got down, I was running, towards the market, but I felt that my running is useless as the market is too long. So I shouldn’t make them angry I decided to walk. I saw a few people running far away, then they shout [shoot] at me. I decided to cross the street, to their side. So they can’t see me, I would be behind the walls. When I arrived to the bus station, I found someone got killed with the same bullets that shot at me.

My family was too worried about me and I was in danger another time when I was standing on the wall of my brother’s house watching an attack at night, when two Humvees came by and start shooting at me, so I lied down in a very quick movement and waited them to leave.

Next day I found out that they killed someone who was driving by.  Anyway it sounds normal to me, this is a part of my life, as Iraqi. Hope to be in a good spirit.

In solidarity,

Haythem

And he never wrote to me again. Here is what I could piece together from friends of his:

He was in the street with a Spanish journalist when there was an explosion. The soldiers came quickly and rounded up all the men in the area. They took them to [Abu Ghraid?]; all under arrest. He told them he was an interpreter for the journalist, but they didn’t believe him. The journalist was released and Haythem was held for 10 days. They put him in a wooden box, for days, without food.

After 10 days he was released, angry. He said, “Why did they release the journalist? Why didn’t they believe me?” He was totally wounded, angry. He spoke to the other teachers in the 121Contact program and said they should break relationships with the American students and teachers. The Americans are evil. There is no sense to doing what any of them ask of us. It would not do anything for Iraq but only help the Americans.  

---

So this man of peace, who bravely kept himself and his students in touch with Americans in order to help each understand ‘the other’ was converted. Converted by cruelty. Converted by the incredible-made-credible horrors of a violent occupation.

A man of peace converted to…we are not sure what direction he took. Perhaps he has become a man of violence willing to kill the occupier rather than sit quiet and see his nation destroyed, a member of the Mukawama? A logic born of pain.

Perhaps he has become one of the pathetically depressed Iraqis, unable to take care of themselves. A life devoid of logic in the face of the insanity of violence.

Perhaps, perhaps,…who knows?

Does he still live? We don’t know. I hope someday to meet him, to kiss his face, and see him live finally in peace. Inshallah.

Bruce

----

Untitled Aug .2004

By the Lion of Baghdad

Deeply we think, “Why is the dream gone?”

Why is peace just a word if the war is done?

Why is the white now black, and the dark is light?

Why is love a fish with the teeth of a shark?

Why is the dove a snake and the lake is of blood?

And the rose is a thorn that cuts the butterflies?

 

Deeply we shout, “Do you have replies?”

Deeply we dive into the ocean of grief.

With the pain inside the death of relief.

How proud is he?

How brave is he, the commander in chief?

 

Deeply we ask, “How does happiness taste?”

How can hope be smelled, and love be painted?

Deeply, at home, the is oil located.

Shall we change the land or change the fate?

We wait for time. We have to wait.

Waiting for time the we catch the train,

That will take us to the place where we are not insane.

Deeply with hope we will dig the well.

We ask you, God, “Would you change the rule?”

------

 

June 22 2007 from Basrah, Iraq Teacher -to- Amman, Jordan Refugee

What does it mean to leave everything in your life behind except your wife and children?

After RAKA's brother was killed he was told that if he didn't leave he would be killed also. He managed to get to Jordan with his wife and children unharmed. They chose to leave everything they knew behind them in order to keep living.

The bond between good, caring teachers and their students is strong. The loss of contact with them is only one part of the pain of separation, but it is as real as any other. Here is RAKA's letter to his beloved students, written soon after he arrived in Jordan.   

Dear Students, brothers and sisters,   

I am sorry to have left you without saying good-bye. But such being our lives: so fickle, so shadowy. You remember Macbeth's lines:
 
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.     

After the death of my brother, we thought it was everything. There was a strong urge from my family and friends that I leave the country. However, I was thinking of the good things that I have in Iraq: my family, my friends, my teachers, my colleagues and last but not least my students that I have always been thinking of as friends and brothers that are in need for help, advice, guidance and a good word that would keep them on the right path. In this regard, and thanks to modern technology, I would like to tell you that I am not so far from you. Yes, I am abroad, but I am keeping a close look at you and I follow up your news. I have always been willing to stay among you, but there are bad people who do not like you to progress and prosper. As such, I earnestly call upon you to tend a little bit to yourselves, to see yourselves as students, real students who are worthy of success. I am abroad today and I am so much pained by what I see around me, not out of envy, but out of woe. I see the students in the Arab countries progressing and edging their way in life confidently and proudly. I look back at you and feel a strong sense of pity for what you are. Think of yourselves as translators and interpreters who are going to contribute to the good of your country. Do not be involved in material gain while forget your lessons and what you are. Money is luring and work is tempting. This is a fact of life. Though, you have to reckon that you are students, still young, and the whole future is ahead of you, just wait and prepare yourselves for the good chances ahead.    

You can make your life meaningful and, opposite to Macbeth, worthy of living and signifying a lot. The chances you have are better than ours are and the resources at your hands are more copious than what we used to have when we were students, sometimes not able to find a dictionary. With translation, there are so many opportunities and chances that are waiting for you; but never be tempted by those dirty people, who are killing our folk and destroying our home.    

Pay due respect to each other and to those who are there to help you: your teachers. Help each other, pray for the good of the whole country, and never forget that Allah, the Prophet and the good men, both dead and alive, are all watching us.    

I am sure that the foam of the sea will never last long, and that the waves of good hope will wash out the solid rocks of despair.    

I wish you all the best and safe life…    
Sincerely Yours,    
RAKA   
Amman, 23, 04, 2007

May 23 2007 Bush speech interrupted -- Baghdad has another bad day

I was watching Bush's speech today on the TV. It was interrupted by all but one channel when the top of the hour was reached. Evidently the timely start of the afternoon soap operas was more important to the networks than the words of the President of the United States. Perhaps they are tired of the same old lies.

I thought this noteworthy and called Wahid, a Baghdad teacher, to talk to him of this insult to the President. When I heard the tension in his voice I shut up and just listened...
---
It is bad in the neighborhood. It is bad for 3 days now. My friend came to visit and then went home. He called me and told me his house was robbed. All the doors were broken. Many things were stolen. The neighbors told him that they saw many men carrying things. They think it was the National Guard, but who can know who they are?

The last 3 days were hot in my neighborhood, too. No one walks in the street. When I got to the internet cafe only 4 people were there. All are teachers trying to print their exams. (This is the week of exams, even though most schools have limited attendance.) We could not print them because the connection is so bad.
---
Yesterday I was at school and someone told me "Your neighborhood is very hot." I called my sister at home and she told me that gunmen were in the neighborhood and they came to shoot randomly. You know today we are putting signs on houses. When someone is killed there is a sign, by the family, that the person was killed; by a bullet, or by a bomb, whatever, to let people will know.  Today I went to get medicine and I saw there were 2 or 3 new signs. I saw one of a young man, I think 20 or so years. He is a friend of my younger brother. He was executed. He was using a cell phone when the shooters came. They beat him and then they killed him. Why is this?

---

I have to tell you this. Yesterday, in the evening, I hid behind the washing machine to tease my little niece. I made the voice of a cat. She looked all over but could not find me. She said to her mother, "Mom, there is a dog making the voice of a cat!" I love her so much. She always...

---

And then the call ended as abruptly as always. In the middle of a conversation. In the middle of an occupation that continues to take the lives of so many innocent civilians, and continues to crush the lives of those who live.

Feb 27 2007 surrounded by US troops in Baghdad

I spoke to Z (one of the teachers) today; my morning, his evening.

He was so tired from having lost a night's sleep. Yesterday they had visitors. 2 friends of his brother came in the afternoon because they could not get back into their neighborhood. It was surrounded and sealed off by US and Iraqi troops. So Z's family invited them to stay over. Then, in the evening, an Aunt came by with her daughter. Her neighborhood was sealed while she was out shopping. She couldn't get home, so she was invited to stay also.

"Why didn't you get to sleep. Were you up all night talking?"
"No. One of my brother's friends shared my bed. He snored all night. I couldn't get to sleep. If they stay here another night I think I will give him my bed."
"But where will you sleep?"
"Maybe in the kitchen? Ha?"

We laughed at this as the helicopters came overhead. He was in his garden and so the sound was very clear.

"You know today was horrible."
"Why? What happened?"
"This morning the US troops, your troops, parked in front of the house. Then there was the explosion; a side-road bomb in front of my house. My son, U, was really frightened. He is sleeping now, in the house. This is because he is very disturbed."
"Is everyone OK? No one is hurt?"
"Yes. We are OK. Only the glass of the front was broken. You know it broke into tiny pieces. Shattered."

And we went on to talk of next year's plans for the email project between students in Baghdad and New York City. Then I heard other voices; shouting, talking, and vehicle engines. As we talked the troops came into the garden and chased him into the house. Z's neighborhood is now surrounded by US troops.

Sleep and food will be stretched thin for a few days. Let's hope the little son gets calm.

Baghdad Feb 17, 2007 a silly reason to be killed for

N, a teacher of teachers in Baghdad tries to come to the US to meet the students in New York that have been corresponding with her students in Baghdad for 3 years. She plans to speak with students and educators about the importance of building bridges and about the healing power of telling stories from within the grip of prolonged trauma.  The US embassy has sent her an email instructing her to come to Amman, Jordan to pick up her visa to the US.

The trip to Amman from Baghdad left a joy and a deep pin prick. A week of joy with Bruce and Mark left a sigh in me to meet again to make peace engagements with the US students…a sigh for not having visa to meet the wonderful students in the other side of the world who have sent their blessing and wishes of peace and stability to all their Iraqi counterparts…a sigh that hopes of building a new bridge between two peaceful sides that were now gone with out achieving the most important goal of tolerance and friendship between them. 

Why do evil actions prevail quickly more than love and good actions in our world? Why do well intentions have to be stumbled over in the path of peace while violence sets out like a rocket to destroy any who try for peace? 

I tried what I could: I came to Amman twice, on the 24^th -August 2006 I had an interview with the Americans in the US embassy for the first time while the second one was in December2006 as a response to their request to pick up my visa. I was so worried concerning the second trip because I already knew it would be full of surprises and my worries were true.

The trip was full of troubles from the very beginning because the daily life in Baghdad was in so much danger. The driver told us not to bring much money and advised us not wear jewelry because the road to Jordan might have bandits and we did follow his advice. In the morning of the 20^th of December 2006 I was waiting the mini van at 6:00, I heard a huge blast in the neighborhood and I realized there will be a delay. The driver came about an hour late because the American troops were spread in the streets and he had to wait for their permission to set out. We (me and the driver and two women from the same neighborhood) were supposed to move at 6:00 am and we had to be early because there would be a lot of delay on the border to Amman. The driver had to change from the highway road, which is better and quicker, onto the local unpaved ones because the American troops blocked the highway for their convoys. Near the city of Rutba (before the Iraqi borders) we were forced to stop by a group of masked and armed men, this was the first time in my life to know the meaning of frozen blood…I felt that the blood under my skin was frozen. They were six, one of them holding large silver pistol while the others were armed with machine guns .They asked us about our direction then wished us a peaceful trip. I thought they were bandits…but Thanks God they weren’t.   

Our packages and bodies were checked and examined carefully and the Jordanian police women’s scrutiny was more than natural. The two women who traveled with me were confused and cautious. They protested the way of body checking…me I didn’t say anything this time because I did the same protest in the first trip…so I already knew their rules…and my protest will not change anything so I decided to respect my words by silence.   

The Jordanian passport office allowed me a week to stay in Amman after knowing the reason of the trip.  Then I can pay for staying further. Each week costs 10, 500 JD. I reached Amman about 10:00 pm. 

On 24^th Sunday morning I went to the American Embassy to give my passport and my ID documents to find out that no body in the Embassy because it is the Christmas days!! They asked me to come on Tuesday and I did and did all the procedures they asked me to do: going to Aramex Company to hand my passport along with my ID documents and wait for a week to get them. 

Meanwhile Bruce was there with me through the e-mail messages, I was keen to tell him everything in details…he was great support to me when hopes got feeble. He sent a lot of messages to many friends who could help and support my visa to show up …many people from different peace organizations and they did what they could do.

Bruce had sent me their messages and their honest willingness and support to be there …I did really want to be there with such good peaceful people…to me it was an opportunity to have new good friends, new family from the other side of the world…I did not expect to have such support and solidarity from them, I wanted to thank each one of them face to face for everything but I was unlucky, after 2 weeks I received no visa. Why? I am not convinced with the US embassy justifications which they have told me and I hope to know one day. 

As usual Bruce was there to share my disappointment, he was more than a father, a friend and a family. His decision to fly to Amman on13th of January and to enquire about my visa made the trip colorful. We also worked and decided to continue and add newness to the 121Contact project of our students. 

Bruce and his son Mark stayed in Amman for a week and I am going to write about the most beautiful and exciting moments with them in another email message, inshallah.

(I know you are there reading these lines with other friends and I know you are bored with my saying THANKS to you but I have to say it in public now…many thanks and Allah bless you…dear Bruce.)

It is hard to forget my dear friend and sister in Amman,  the special L, whose help was there from the very beginning in supporting me in my 2 trips. Words are not enough to express my gratitude.

I decided to return to dear Baghdad, though my family and friends asked me not to do so. The situation is still dangerous; it is getting harder day after day, I might be killed in any minute or kidnapped and tortured for being a Muslim living in a Sunni neighborhood though I hate such difference but reality obliged me to say so. What a silly reason to be killed for while criminals and rapists are free in this world.

Thanks to all of you.
Love to you all,
N

Tue 11/14/2006 where ever you go you see corpse

Yes, the emails have been slow these days. It is getting harder and harder to get through. It is easy to see why...

Dear Bruce,

you are starving for my words and I am starving for a moment of peace.

Dear ones...you can not imagine what kind of life here in Iraq! the situation is getting harder each day.

my neighborhood had been under attack since our last phone call with Bruce.Dead bodies of civilian people are accumulated and scattered every where...where ever you go you see corpse.

My mistress got her brother in law killed, a teacher in my school lost her brother in the latest explosion, another teacher lost his wife in the day of Saddam 's verdict because of the random shooting while the other one lost his relatives who were kidnapped in the funeral ceremony with the dead body!

My nieghborhood on the other hand still witnesses  serious combats because of their existance in the neighborhood,yesrerday 2 lands made were exploded in front of our house and they (USA troops) forced us to stay at our houses for about 6 hours.late at night they broke into houses and arrested many young men ...above all let me tell you this ...we haven't had electricity, no water, no phone service for about 6 days....can you imagine your life with out these 3 important things?

Now let me describe what happened to me this morning, a man I see every day standing next to me waiting for the bus going to his work...was shot dead by a sniper  ,I stood their watching him die with no idea what to do or where to go...I couldn't even shout for help...everybody arround me disappeared. I went back home totally broken down...wondering am I a live !!?

I sent this message from net cafe out of my nieghborhood.

Nesreen

Sat 11/4/2006 cup of tea

Dear Bruce

 

It is 1:40 after midnight, I tried hard to sleep but I can’t. The noise of bombs and shooting keep going on all night, I tried to put a pillow over my head but the noise of the troops tanks keep the floor shivering which makes my bed and other things shaking with no break…so I decide to write to you!

 

The evening was scary…I was making some tee in the kitchen at 7:00, I turned my face to talk to my brother while washing the tea cups next to the sink behind the window, all of a sudden the window turned into pieces because of a huge explosion that took place in front of our house while the tanks were passing by...thanks God my face had been turned at that moment …you can’t imagine how scared I was…I couldn’t hear anything but the buzz for 10 minutes, I sipped a drop of water with no words, my brother on the other hand run fast to check his children safety whose hysterical shouts filled the silence of the situation…

 

I cursed every body in this bad world …tell me now how can we think of a better day any more? Can we? Is there a place for such thought in our spirits? The world is waiting the trial of Saddam as a big hit neglecting thousands of Iraqi children live in the middle of bombs, neglecting thousands of women who turned into widows with no support…what makes Saddam’s trial so important to the world? Don’t you agree with me that a child’s life and safety is more important? This world is ugly looking for blood shed everywhere; they keep their eyes on violence as a joy thinking of justice…it is not I believe… justice is when your child sleeps well…when you live in your house with peace…justice when you see your family smile with no fear of tomorrow…

and of course when you drink your tea with no bombs !

 

Wish me sweet dreams …if I can sleep!

 

Yours truly

Thu 10/26/2006 and always doubts

Dear Nesreen,

BrooklynYesterday I gave two workshops to  Brooklyn high school students—9^th and 10^th graders, “Putting a Human Face on ‘collateral damage’”. It was my first workshop since early last year when Marilyn became ill.

It went well with the older group. The 9^th graders were not so impressed. I was a little out of practice and failed to notice the difference between ‘my end’ and ‘their end.’ They were done before me and at the finish they were no longer interested in what I had to say, at least not as interested as they were in getting out of there and on to lunch! The older students were great, however. At the end, after the compassion part and the activism part of the workshop, one young woman suggested that they collect supplies for an orphanage in Rwanda.

I asked, “How many of you will help her?” and only 5 hands went up. I then asked, “OK, if 6 people were doing this, then how many of you would help?” Now there were 10 other hands. After my next asking almost all the hands went up. And then…another young woman spoke out, “Why are we doing Rwanda? What about the Katrina Hurricane kids? What about their schools?”

A lively discussion followed, and then the bell rang to signal the end of the workshop. I left them arguing amongst themselves as to which was the ‘better’ thing to do. I was very please with this.

When I got home I was stunned by the fact that Marilyn wasn’t there for me to share the day with. I would have told her of my doubts as I drove home from the school. I was thinking of how very small a thing I had done. How it ended up having nothing to do with Iraq, the war, the bigger picture. These are not new thoughts to me, but they return often.

I know Marilyn would have reassured me; told me that even small things contribute; that doing something is better than doing nothing; that at least some of these students were moved by the presentation; at least some had bravely opened their hearts and responded with action.

 What more can I ask?

 Well, I can ask how you liked the DVD? Did you get a chance to show it to others? What did they think?

 May this email find you safe and may the school be once again filled with brave students who risk all for a little more education.

With much love, Bruce

Sun 10/15/2006 compassion, tears, and hope

In my workshops I teach about compassion as not something given to others, but an opening of the self.
I teach that one can feel profound sadness and still feel good at the same time.
I teach that the energy of grief can be turned into actions for peace and hope.
I teach, but do I learn?

Today's call to Nesreen was so full of tears that it was hard to speak. Just 10 minutes before our call her neighborhood was the scene of an intense gun battle. The children gathered around; the house shut tight; the air hot; the noise frightening...All is quiet now, and no one in the house was hurt.

And now, 10 minutes later we are on the phone. The little ones stand with mouths open and eyes wide as they listen to Nesreen speak a stange language. She puts them on the phone and my 'salaams' are answered with small voices saying 'Hello' in English. For a moment their world is touched from afar. Their world!

Schools are not functioning. There were no students at N's school this week. The infrastructure is a mess. Interneet access comes only some days, and then maybe only for an hour or so. Kidnapping is everywhere. There is still no word of Marwa, and no word of the kidnapped brother of another of the Women of Peace who had been writing. There is no one to trust. One cannot call the police because it is known that they are infiltrated with violent people. "The police are part of it."

One brother of N's has emigrated to find work. His wife and children remain behind. He felt he had no choice since there is no work for him in Baghdad.

So where does the hope come from? I am not sure. N said that she reads Marilyn's letters from time to time because they are so full of hope. She hesitated to tell me this because since Mar died only a short time ago she was afraid it would make me sad. I told her that yes, it does make me feel sadness, but it also makes me feel so very, very warm to know that Mar's words are still carrying the good that was in her heart.

Again we talked of how we could possibly get N over here. She's already been denied a US visa and the chances of her getting one are almost zero, but we come back to this over and over again. Still we hope, but I don't really know where the hope comes from. Perhaps hope is born from stubborness?
I know we'll find a way.

Peace to you and yours, Bruce