The Waiting Place...

The Waiting Place...

...Contemplations on those who left, by those left behind

Tuesday, November 30, 2004

I'm stunned. My sister forwarded this article to me tonight. For those that know me, you'll understand. For those that do not, let me explain...

Shortly after I received the message from my sister, I received another from a mutual friend of ours we grew up with. He is now a tenured professor at a prestigious Eastern university...

I lived in Turkey and in North Africa and have a very different view of Islam. I think that there are many positive features to Islam and what we've seen in the form of extremism is not a reflection of the larger religious tradition. I lived in Sweden and there is toleration and respect for different religious traditions contrary to the columnist. I think there is a danger confounding Islam with radical fundamentalism just as this country that it is a mistake to confound true Christianity with the right wing brand of fundamentalism that is sweeping our country. The two brands of fundamentalism actually share a great deal in common. The self-identified hypocritical types who encourage violence against abortion doctors and sponsor hate share a zealotry. I am writing this to you to get your opinion as opposed to register a dissenting view. What do you think?

I wrote back to him, saying...

I have a different view also, Mike, as you might suspect...

My initial reaction was very similar to your last point, about there being a similarity in all zealots of any faith or belief system (there are most definitely non-religious, even atheistic, zealots...It knows no boundaries...) The fear, hate, intolerance, etc. I see in many corners of this world, whether it be politics, religion, economic power (and many times these overlap and blur), is the core of what drives the worst in humanity.

The columnist is one seemingly innocent soldier in the WRONG cause - the cause of misinformation, ignorance, and confusion. It's nothing new, but it never fails to amaze me how powerful it is...

As I said at the beginning, I couldn't believe it when I received the message from my sister. I was so sure she was more open-minded since her niece - my daughter - is Muslim, and Betty has met some of my son-in-law's family, etc. and should know better than to promote generalizations. I immediately forwarded it to my daughter Eva for her reaction, writing to her, "While there may be some truth in some of the points this writer makes, the overall article is simplistic and misleading..." I have yet to hear back, but rest assured I will share with the Yard when she does. Better yet, I hope she shares it herself, since she's one of the Team!

posted by Trish | 1:14 AM

Sunday, November 21, 2004

Kevin Sites, a reporter whose work I follow and respect, talks about a recent incident that left some big questions...

posted by Trish | 11:19 PM

Tuesday, November 09, 2004

I have been reading that a good share of the "Iraqi forces" that are being used in conjunction with American troop in Fullujah are Kurdish. Kurds in general are getting more and more nervous. Kurdish children are being kidnapped, and some have been executed, being held for ransom. Fingers have long been pointing north with "Collaborators" being whispered on many lips. They see Kurds as traitors at worst, separatists at best (wanting their region and the oil-wealth Kirkirk would bring with it...) I see no way for Americans to fully pull out of Iraq anytime soon. It's a powder keg that's already went off, but there's a lot of gunpowder left...

posted by Trish | 11:14 PM

reviews

The Weblog Review says

"...focuses more on the human aspect of the Middle East conflict...marvelously refreshing" and "...a portrait of a genuinely loving marriage, and what happens when two people who love each other are torn apart by circumstances."

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about

Click here to see more images from Eva's visit to Iraqi Kurdistan, to visit Meran in late 2003

I spoke with my daughter and son-in-law tonight. Meran said he wasn't nervous. He sounded resolved, certain that what he was about to do was the right thing. Maybe a bit of his confidence was to help Eva and his sisters feel better about it and not worry for him, but I think he truly believes he should be doing this.

...it's been indicated to Meran that it's more likely that when he's deployed, he won't be going to Kuwait, but Northern Iraq since a northern front is now being established and they'll need Kurdish translators and interpreters onsite.

The poem below was written by a human rights activist that befriended Meran in the Turkish refugee camps. It is all true, based on recollections and memories shared with her by Meran. It was published in a book called "Kurdistan Times", a biannual publication of the Kurdish Human Rights Watch, Copyright 1997...

MY HOME IN KURDISTAN
By Margareta Hanson

My home, so
my father told me
was in a valley
in the mountains,
with a river
clear and cold,
its water running
from the snowfields.

In the garden
fruit trees grew.
We had cucumbers,
grapes and melons.
In the barn
there were, of course,
cows and sheep and
my father's horse.

In our home,
heated by
the baking oven
were handmade carpets
of all colors.
It was my home
until 1980 when
I was two years old.
Then came Saddam's soldiers.
Iraqi troops
bulldozed our house
and the barn,
destroyed the garden
and drove us out
from our valley
in the mountains.

Hunted, homeless,
frightened,
we had to flee.
My father's horse
carrying some
blankets, pots and pans
and my older brother
carrying me.

For years we walked
at night
lighted by the stars.
We were hungry,
cold and ill,
sleeping in a tent
as from place
to place we went.

Like that
we lived
until 1988
when I was
ten years old.
Then planes flew by
and chemical bombs
exploded in the sky.

I had run, was
hiding in the mountains.
When I returned I found
that my mother,
my father, and my brother
were laying dead.
Peshmergas helped me
bury them, and then I fled.

Four years went by.
I stayed with
thousands of other Kurds
in a Turkish camp.
We lived in tents.
For heat the sun,
for light at night
the shining stars.

Now I am in another world
of neon lights and cars.
Here in the United States
I go to school and work at night.
I call myself a man and say
"Forgotten is the pain,
I am on my way."

But when I sleep
I am a child at home
in the valley
in the mountains
with the river
cold and clear,
it's water running
from the snowfields.

In the garden
fruit trees grow.
We have cucmbers,
grapes and melons.
In the barn
there are, of course,
cows and sheep
and my father's horse.

In my dream
I clearly see them,
my father, my mother
and my older brother,
in our home
in the valley
in the mountains
in my country, Kurdistan.

I am asking you, my friend,
is there a Kurdistan,
a land that is mine,
that will welcome me?
Is there a land
of peace and democracy
where all people are free
and living in harmony?

Where hate and murder
does not exist
and every man and
woman is a friend?
If so, Kurdistan, I am
your long-lost son
who wants to go home
and never leave again!