Hi everyone, cruising around the blogosphere today I stumbled accross a link to a new blog "My Letters To America"
- by still alive.
In her first Letter to America
, still alive brought a tear to my eye, as she did on a this post on her other blog How to Deserve It
The letter tells of the point of confusion in her life, where school and tv- other such propaganda methods had blinded her understanding of life and war, despite being in the middle of one.
The story is not of her hate, but of her coming to realise that there are other human beings killed in wars- not just enemies. She comes to realise that each enemy has a father, a mother and maybe a daughter like she was- her father being sent away to war many time.
She lost her pride in her nation, and the enemies began to fade. It seems she has turned to compassion and self expression to keep her sane.
Friends are the key and she is correct- she needs more.
Go across to still alive
's blogs and leave her some friendly messages, after you read the above mentioned post that made me cry.How To Deserve It My Letters To America
When I was a child it didn’t matter much to me, the nationality. Your country means the place you live in. the world was one to me and should be one. Later from TV, radio and school I have learned how to feel my nationality. They told me, we are fighting Iran to protect our Arabic homeland. They told me Iraqis are fighting for their brothers. It must be so important that Arab homeland that we do all that to protect, my uncles were taken to war my father been kidnapped and sent to war many times. They said it is honor when you fight for your country or die. I knew war was bad because I saw many women crying and weeping when they heard about the death of one of their families. Death that time was so mysterious for the child I was, it means someone won’t come back. But all that people do when someone won’t come back was weird. What if he won’t? Why they were crying? Anyway he wasn’t there he was in the war area so what difference it makes? As long as it cause all that pain it must be bad.
Something else was bad in war. All the good things alders were talking about these were available before the war. The wonderful things we will do when war ends! So many little things from here and there made me, I was under 6, so busy in thinking how can I end this war!
When I was older than 8 the way I looked to it was different. That age I was thinking of the victory and revenge. I was so patriot. I was Arab first and Iraqi second. Arab homeland comes first anything else means nothing. Proud of the glory of this great nation I hold. If we die for this nation it is good. Arabs were talking too much about the heroes of Iraq, sometimes I wondered why they don’t come and fight with us if it is for the good of all of us? I read all newspapers I found everyday; I listen to TV and every word at school.
I heard the stories of how we lost our unity when British cheated Sharief Hussein Bin Ali and steal the land they promised to help him get if he fought Ottomans. He fought for them and they gave him their evil plan to cut this nation apart and treat Arabs like slaves. They were bad just like Iran who wanted to take our land and take our freedom with their fearful regime. At that age I knew what does enemy mean. For me Iranians were only enemies, enemies means another kind of creatures not like us. Till one day when the TV showed some fighting tapes. It wasn’t new for us they do that after every battle (families didn’t allow children to watch it, but it is really hard to control all the time). The tapes included the scene of the field after the end of the battle. The scene was nothing but things like burned cars and weapons, captured soldiers and sometimes dead bodies. A dead Iranian soldier with bloody face where the flies were … my mother cried. I didn’t understand, he was enemy! ‘Mom he is not Iraqi soldier, don’t cry he is Iranian’ what a shame my childhood carries. What a shame you are war. He was Iranian! He was enemy! It is okay if he was without face, he is evil. It is okay if they showed his dead body on TV he was enemy pig. My poor mother was shocked, she said, ‘he is a human being what does his mother feel now? What if she saw her son? Does she know what happened to him?’ it was the first time I think they are humans and they have mothers and maybe daughters like me. I will never forget this accident. It is when I knew that death was more than I thought, and you can feel sad for enemy. I believe I have lost my enemy gradually since then.
Right now as I wrote those lines I am crying for him. Can I tell him now after 20 years that I am sorry? I am sorry, I didn’t know that you were not my enemy I didn’t know that there are no enemies. I wish you can forgive me. I still see your face with blood and flies. I see you laugh at me. You don’t care now. You want to help me! Can you help me? Just tell me it didn’t hurt. You can’t! Yes it did hurt but you forgive me. How can I forgive my self? How can I forgive them?