“I think tomorrow, we lose air” (Liberate THIS, Part 14)

[A continuing series by guest author Dr. Dahlia Wasfi]

I stepped off of the rickety bus at the Iraqi border along with my fellow passengers making the difficult journey into occupied land. I was so tired, both from the long trip and my recent crying. My eyes alternated between staring vaguely into the distance in a sleep-deprived daze and darting toward my belongings to make sure nothing got stolen.

U.S. government providing clothing to Iraqi people
U.S. government providing clothing to Iraqi people. Photo by ThinkpadR50 at en.wikipedia; used under CC Attribution-Share Alike 30.0 unported license.

I was trying to put my thoughts together to decide what to do next when I believe I witnessed a divine intervention. My gaze moved up from my cart of belongings to find Ahmed standing right before me. I felt an unbelievable rush of relief and joy.

The harrowing part of the journey was over.  I believed then that everything would be all right.

Ahmed did all the paperwork for me; he had to since it was in Arabic. We meandered over to a car where another cousin and their friend were waiting. All that I’d brought was loaded into the trunk, and I relaxed into the back seat, feeling safe for the first time in what felt like days.

When we arrived at my uncle’s house, I got the same beautifully warm welcome from my family as I had before. It was early afternoon, which was early morning for me back home, and I was utterly exhausted. Though it was rude of me, while the family sat down to the big midday meal made in my honor, I curled up in my cousin’s bed and slipped into a deep, serene sleep.

On my first full day back in Basra, we lost electricity completely. On the second day, we ran out of water.  On the third day, we lost telephone service. When we realized the phone lines were dead, Ahmed jokingly predicted, “I think tomorrow, we lose air!” We all laughed.

Despite suffering the hardships of war, sanctions, and occupation for their entire lives, my cousins showed resilience and tenacity. I was amazed by their intact sense of humor in unpredictable and dangerous conditions.

But this spoiled American accustomed to the luxuries of electricity and running water thought worriedly, “What the hell did I get myself into for the next three months?”