Tag: Dahlia Wasfi

Iraq’s borders were sealed (Liberate THIS, Part 12)

Posted on by kathiemm

A continuing series by Dr. Dahlia Wasfi

Map of Iraq & Kuwait
Image in public domain

In late 2004 through early 2005, kidnappings of Westerners became prominent news stories.  Fearing for my safety amidst ever-escalating anti-American sentiment, my Iraqi family advised me to stay safely at home.

Yet I was undeterred from making another trip and selfishly gave little thought to the potential danger for my family’s “harboring” an American.

That my father is Iraqi and I was on vacation probably wouldn’t mean much to those seeking expensive ransoms to feed their families or wishing to send a message to foreigners to get out of Iraq.

But I was mostly oblivious to the risks.  I figured that if I were kidnapped, I could use the few words of Arabic I’d learned growing up (from when my father was angry) in reference to my government.  Surely, I thought, with such skills of wit and a photo of my father, I could get myself out of any sticky situation.

By the end of 2005, with no end to the chaos in sight, my family agreed to host me once again, before the situation deteriorated further.

Because the road from Amman to Baghdad was now exceedingly dangerous, my trip was planned only for Basra this time. Hostility still governed relations between Iraq and Kuwait, not only from the era of Gulf War I, but from the decades of territorial dispute dating back to the early twentieth century.

Even with an American passport, I knew my Iraqi background might be sufficient cause for Kuwaiti border officials to make my trip more difficult. But I didn’t see any other option. I bought tickets to fly via London to Kuwait City, which sits about 82 miles (132 kilometers) from Basra, with the Iraq-Kuwait border about halfway in between.

I had a planned layover in London for two days to attend an anti-war conference organized by the UK Stop the War Coalition. My scheduled flight to Kuwait was for the following evening, December 11th.  If Kuwait had been my final destination, I could have made the trip without a problem.

However, four days before the scheduled December 15 elections, Iraq’s borders were sealed for “security” reasons.  I had to postpone my trip out of London until the borders were reopened.

With bitter sarcasm, I joked with my family that the new Iraq had so much freedom in it that occupation forces had to close the borders to contain it all.

 

A bouquet of stories: Valentines for peace

Posted on by patdaniel
Malbin peace sculpture
"Vista of Peace" sculpture by Ursula Malbin. Photo by Guillaume Paumier / Wikimedia Commons, CC-by-3.0.

For the second Valentine’s day in the life of Engaging Peace, we want to re-share some posts that have been among the wonderful gifts our readers have given us.  The following selection focuses on messages of peace and love.

(1) A few years ago I joined “Checkpoint Watch,” an Israeli human rights organization of women who monitor and report human rights violations towards Palestinians who move from the occupied territories of Palestine to Israel.  Continue reading →   (Dalit Yassour-Borochowitz, October 21, 2010)

(2) It has been a privilege for the Paraclete Foundation to bring the Benebikira Sisters to Boston and to tell their story of courage and love during the 1994 Rwandan Genocide that claimed over 800,000 lives in 100 days.  Continue reading →   (Sister Ann Fox , November 8, 2010)

(3) In a way that only being physically present in this country could convey, I’ve realized that the genocide is a very difficult thing for Rwandans to talk about. If people do speak about the horrors they have encountered, it is only under very hushed circumstances or around people they trust.  Continue reading →   (Andrew Potter, June 23, 2011)

(4) The framework for my reflections is constructed from Dr. Martin Luther King’s Speech delivered at Riverside Church in April, 1967 (a year before his assassination).  Continue reading →   (Dean Hammer,  July 21, 2011)

(5) My father was born and raised in Basra, Iraq. Graduating from Baghdad University, he earned a government scholarship to study in the United States. He completed his graduate studies at Georgetown University. While in DC, he met and married my mom, a nice Jewish girl from New York. Her parents had fled their homeland … Continue reading →   (Dahlia Wasfi, September 19, 2011)

(6) I have just returned from the demonstration to support Occupy Boston (10-10-11) and can happily report that it was a successful march of probably two or more thousand people.  Continue reading →  (John Hess, October 17, 2011)

(7) Over the past few weeks we have heard stories of bravery, courage, hope, happiness, and grief from Palestine. The stories accompanied the news that just over 1,000 Palestinian prisoners would be freed in exchange for … Continue reading →   (San’aa Sultan, November 3, 2011)

(8) Eva Mozes Kor, a “Mengele Twin” who survived the genetic experiments at Auschwitz, chose the non-standard route to recovery: forgiveness.  Continue reading →  (Elina Tochilnikova, December 26, 2011)

(9) From the time of… Moses, who helped guide the Israelis out of slavery and oppression to freedom, to Jesus, who preached equality and love and changed the whole human understanding of power structures, to … Continue reading →   (Majed Ashy, January 12, 2012)

Kathie Malley-Morrison, Professor of Psychology, and Pat Daniel, Managing Editor of Engaging Peace

I promised that I would return (Liberate THIS, Part 11)

Posted on by kathiemm

A continuing series by Dr. Dahlia Wasfi

My father was one of ten children, so we have a lot of family in Iraq.  Seemingly everywhere I was escorted during those six days in Basra, I met blood relatives or my father’s former students.

Marines fire on Fallujah
U.S. Marines fire on Fallujah. Image in public domain.

Most Basrawis (pronounced “bas-RAO-weez,” meaning people of Basra) live their whole lives in their hometown. My father, though, had traveled to the U.S. and become successful.

I heard so many wonderful accolades about him and his teaching during my short stay. I later joked with my father that all the images of Saddam Hussein that had been destroyed after the invasion soon would be replaced with his picture to honor his courage and success.

I experienced joy with my cousins that I had not felt for long as I could remember. My spirits were up, so much so that I stopped my anti-depressive medications. I felt cured.

Because of the unpredictability of a country without law and order, my stay was cut short.  I had to return to Amman via Baghdad to make my flight home. But I promised my family that I would return for a longer stay—very soon, we hoped—when conditions in the new Iraq had improved.  I left in early March 2004.

While we looked toward the horizon for better days, conditions in Iraq went from bad to worse. Electricity and water became scarcer, as did jobs and security. But the lack of these basic necessities was quickly overshadowed by the monstrous obscenities of the American-led occupation.

The atrocities committed against Iraqis by occupation forces at Abu Ghraib prison (and many other prisons throughout the country) came to light. With good reason, anti-American sentiment in Iraq skyrocketed to new highs. The indiscriminate slaughter of Iraqis continued, exemplified by the April 2004 siege of the city of Fallujah, the October 2004 bombings of Fallujah, and the November 2004 massacre of the people of Fallujah.

That November, I had wanted to take my return trip to Iraq, but U.S. Marines had blocked the route of my last trip, the road from Amman to Baghdad.

 

Struck by how thin they were (Liberate THIS, Part 10)

Posted on by kathiemm

A continuing series by guest author Dr. Dahlia Wasfi

I did not feel resentment from anyone during my brief stay in Iraq.  When we arrived at my uncle’s (Ahmed’s father’s) house, I was welcomed with kisses and hugs, overwhelming love and affection.

Cost of war 1.2 Iraqi deaths
Image by Random McRandomhead, used under Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic license

Though I was meeting my cousins for the very first time, they already knew me, far better than I knew them.  My father was a legend in the family and in the neighborhoods of Basra where he grew up and was a teacher and professor.  My cousins tracked his life—and the lives of his children in turn—with fond attentiveness.  They welcomed me as if they had known me their whole lives.

Despite the desperate situation in Iraq, the novelty of a visit from a long-lost cousin brought everyone joy, myself included. Getting to know each other for the first time, my cousins and I were like little kids, giggling and joking, whether the electricity was working or not.

I was so struck by how thin they all were.  “You have no idea what it was like [during the sanctions],” my cousins told me.  “We are only alive today because your father helped us.”  Even with his support during those years of starvation, my family sold furniture and other belongings to get money for food.

My cousins’ features were familiar to me, because they were similar to mine:  olive skin; thick, curly hair (some of them); and a strong Semitic nose (also described as “large.”)  But their cheeks were hollowed out, especially on Ahmed’s face.  His clothes hung on him limply, like they did on their hangar.  His physique was paper thin and his face gaunt, revealing the faint outline of his skull.  His appearance reflected years of starvation and war.

To me, his emaciated body was a microcosm for the whole of Iraqi society.  The people appeared as if they were newly released from a strangling chokehold.  They were laid out, exhausted, gasping to catch their collective breath.  Ahmed’s weary, sunken, dark brown eyes held the fear, worry, and pain of all of that suffering, all of those years.