'We want a State'...Her eyes were black and lonely...
They were also glistening with defiance. That was Nesreen for you. Born in Iran, raised in Iraq, married in the United Kingdom, trying to raise her children in Sweden.
'So does Palestine'...I stammered.
Years later, the sixteen year old boy that watched while the visiting Harvard Team asked that I wait outside while they spoke to Peshmergas...asked,
-'Are you from Baghdad?'
-'I work for the Red Cross...'
-'My Aunt, she was your age...somewhat close, when they took her. She was released seven years later...trailing behind her...seven unknown children. Why? ...Would they let someone do that to their sisters...?'
I could see him swallow...his adam apple's male pride finding a moment of relief in confinding, venting, reproaching and questioning...After all, I was a woman. I was a total stranger...and although his whole neighborhood probably knew...he could find no one to question there...It would remind him of the shame...
Was it a question? Would they do that to their sisters...
I stared ahead. I did not want my surfacing horror to further harden his placid eyes...They too, were black and lonely...
I saw his aunt...twenty or younger...her Kurdish vest ripped from her chest. Devils in khaki Safari suits swelling with the desire to breed bastards, all around her...
At home, my father was angry. My brother was furious.
-'Yes, but we have granted them autonomy!'
-' Yes, ...an autonomy where their daughters could be dragged into the unknown, to raise children from an unknown, to live unknown...'
But now, 10 years later, they want a real state...
I guess it remains to be seen, what the state of the "remains of a state" will be...
Will there be place for a state?
What happened behind concrete walls then, now happens in the streets, in the dark...and some days in daylight...
We all now need a safe haven...and soon...before more unknown children are bred to live unknown...
They were also glistening with defiance. That was Nesreen for you. Born in Iran, raised in Iraq, married in the United Kingdom, trying to raise her children in Sweden.
'So does Palestine'...I stammered.
Years later, the sixteen year old boy that watched while the visiting Harvard Team asked that I wait outside while they spoke to Peshmergas...asked,
-'Are you from Baghdad?'
-'I work for the Red Cross...'
-'My Aunt, she was your age...somewhat close, when they took her. She was released seven years later...trailing behind her...seven unknown children. Why? ...Would they let someone do that to their sisters...?'
I could see him swallow...his adam apple's male pride finding a moment of relief in confinding, venting, reproaching and questioning...After all, I was a woman. I was a total stranger...and although his whole neighborhood probably knew...he could find no one to question there...It would remind him of the shame...
Was it a question? Would they do that to their sisters...
I stared ahead. I did not want my surfacing horror to further harden his placid eyes...They too, were black and lonely...
I saw his aunt...twenty or younger...her Kurdish vest ripped from her chest. Devils in khaki Safari suits swelling with the desire to breed bastards, all around her...
At home, my father was angry. My brother was furious.
-'Yes, but we have granted them autonomy!'
-' Yes, ...an autonomy where their daughters could be dragged into the unknown, to raise children from an unknown, to live unknown...'
But now, 10 years later, they want a real state...
I guess it remains to be seen, what the state of the "remains of a state" will be...
Will there be place for a state?
What happened behind concrete walls then, now happens in the streets, in the dark...and some days in daylight...
We all now need a safe haven...and soon...before more unknown children are bred to live unknown...