Oh, Iraq!
Now how I remember you
How I would push my fingers through
Your mouth to make those muscles move
That made your voice so smooth and sweet
Now we keep where we don’t know
All secrets sleep in winter clothes
With one you loved so long ago
Now he don’t even know his name – Neutral Milk Hotel
—
Day 6.
Today is harder than yesterday – no doubt.
I woke up filled with loneliness. I feel very introverted, I guess. I don’t want to talk but to sit and reflect and to dream.
I want to go back to Iraq. Last night I read an article about TEDxBaghdad. One of its speakers runs an organization for disabled Iraqis. Man oh man.
Another moving story that gripped the audience was that of Inaam Jawad, founder of the Dina Lodging Institute. Jawad narrated the story of how she lost her husband and she was left to care for her two daughters, one of whom is disabled.
“I wondered why God would take my husband away when I have a disabled daughter,” Jawad said.
“When my daughter would return from school, she used to ask me ‘why people call me crazy?’,” she told the audience, expressing her sorrow that in Iraq there are little venues catering for disabled children, “There was no place I could enroll her without her being emotionally hurt by a society that marginalizes disabled people,” she said.
From meager beginnings selling drinks and sandwiches, Jawad was able to group disabled children together and created Dina Lodging Institute which houses over 60 physically or mentally disabled children and adults.
“Now my grown up daughter knows how to take care of other disabled children; now I can sleep knowing that I made a place for her in society and for others like my daughter,” she said.
“Now I know why God took my husband, so I could work better to give my services to these disabled children that have had no place in a society that rejected them.”
Another concerned parent to take to the TEDx stage was Wisam al-Tuwairji, who was determined to provide support for his daughter’s autism. He helped build an autism based school and restored hope for some of Iraq’s autistic children.
Logistically, perhaps Iraq isn’t the best next step for me. Maybe saving money for grad school’s better. But. Iraq!
I can’t forget about Iraq. I know I was only there for two months, but man alive – my heart’s been there since I was in high school, and it’s still there now.
November 15, 2011