Diary of a Yazidi Girl

08/10/2014

Dear Diary,

These may be the last hours of my life. So, I thought I should write down my last thoughts. The battle will start soon, I need to clear my mind.

Today, I walked through a deserted town. Even though I have lived here for eighteen years, I felt disoriented. Sinjar, once a beautiful mountain village, was now almost vacant. My people ran away. They fled their homes and their lands, when they heard the roar of the upcoming monster. Throughout the village, silence reigned. 6000 years of civilization evaporated and rode the wind that carried all this history away. I felt as is if I was an intruder, foolishly violating the sanctity of a long forgotten place.

My people ran away and left the doors of their homes ajar. Inside, lost memories reverberated. I wondered how did they ever manage to detach themselves so easily. The thought of following their tracks never crossed my mind. I am not stupid , I know that danger lies ahead. But I belong here not in some refugee camp. I am a Yazidi woman and this is the place where I was born and this is where I shall die.

As I roamed through the city, I found many reporters. Apparently, the whole world has heard of our crisis. The Yazidis are famous now. For thousands of years, we’ve been unknown to man-kind. That is the way we have have chosen to live: secluded on a mountain top, living peacefully with everyone, never interfering in political issues and never uncovering the secrets of our civilization. We are an introverted community but sadly, our wish to be left alone wasn’t respected.

The neutrality policy failed. We have been dragged into the middle-east conflict. We are now falsely considered devil worshipers and so we need to be exterminated. A stupid group of murderers seems determined to butcher us unless we comply to their demands. We have heard of the atrocities they are doing to my countrymen. It was time we received the same treatment.

Some reporter, in an effort to comfort me, told me: “Don’t worry they won’t kill you, the journalists will make sure the world will see your suffering and they won’t let this massacre happen.” I told him:” Weren’t there any reporters in Baghdad, Mousoul, Arbil…?” He said: ” Of course there were!”. So I said: “Then why didn’t the killing stop? Did the world fall asleep watching the news, or was there a football game on the same night ?”

I wasn’t going to wait for the world to wake up and protect my rights. So I decided to fight alongside one of the few brave men and women who refused to abandon their homes. The Iraqi forces offered to train us. We were all ready to defend our land or die trying. Moments ago, the reporter had received news that the monsters are coming. And so the man whose news report was supposed to save me, hurriedly drove away on a 4×4, after taking this picture. Our enemies are coming soon, strangely I am not scared.

Good bye or Farewell. Whichever it might be, I am ready.

ayzidi

# DIRT Bucket challenge


Thousands of people have tried the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge. It has proven to be a very successful campaign to raise awareness and funds to treat this disease.

Don’t get me wrong, I really do sympathize with the people who suffer from ALS. But I also sypathise with the 565 Palestinian kids that have been brutally murdered.

The idea behind the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge is that: you will know for just a few seconds what’s it like to have ALS. This Dirt Bucket Challenge has the same purpose. You will know what’s it like to be buried under tons of dirt. If that sounds stupid, then I suggest you take a look at the horrifying pictures of children and babies, in Gaza, being dug out after they have suffocated.

Of course, you can choose to donate whatever amount of money. You may not trust the Palestinian Organizations, but that’s not an excuse, donate to any UN organization of your choice. It will at least help rebuild those UNRWA schools Israel bombed.

I honestly think it’s a good idea. It’s very symbolic and I hope it catches on. End the massacre in Gaza.

Badr and Esther – Part Two

Out of exhaustion, Esther’s eyes had finally surrendered to sleep when a sudden cry woke her up. At first, she wondered where it was coming from. But as her eyes settled on the unfamiliar room, she knew it was just little Arieh. Her little cousin was just a couple of months old. So, it was sort of a miracle that he hadn’t spent the whole night crying. But, it wouldn’t have mattered anyways.

A tingling feeling of excitement crept through her veins and kept her wide awake. As if there was a devil trapped inside of her, she kept swiveling under the thin bed sheet, all night, utterly unable to relax. And, the fact that she felt like an intruder didn’t help.

She sat up and absently stared at the walls. The suns arrays were crawling in through the open window, slowly illuminating the guest room as if they expected a wretched witch hid in the darkness. The sun’s soldiers had reached Esther’s bare feet. And as if they feared for this gentle princess, they summoned their courage and quickly conquered the rest of the room. They found no lurking monster, but then again, they hadn’t ventured inside the other rooms…

The morning’s cool breeze woke her up from her reverie. But quickly, she relapsed into another. The words from yesterday’s argument with her father haunted her mind. She had barely stopped herself from causing a disaster hours before her departure.

She wanted to stay in Haifa but her father urged her to spend the night at his sister’s place in Tel Abib. Her flight was supposed to leave from the capital’s airport. So it was a reasonable suggestion. Non the less, she was prepared to do the 80 Km journey by bus, even though it would mean waking up at 4 AM. She realized that arguing further more would arouse her father’s suspicion. So, she finally agreed to spend the night at her aunt’s house.

Isidore, Esther’s father, had a great insight into personalities. Somehow, he failed to interpret his daughter’s reluctance to stay at his sister’s. His daughter had done a great job hiding her emotions. So, he presumed she was just shy. Esther never told him the truth nor does she plan on doing for it would only make him miserable.

Esther, unfortunately, didn’t have a great relationship with her aunt Leah. Her aunt loathed her ever since Isidore had brought her from foster care. She publicly disapproved of her brother’s decision. But, Isidore didn’t want to abandon his wife nor did he want to stay childless. So, he adopted Esther when she was three. For 14 years, Leah never accepted her as a part of her family. She never ceased to think of her as a shameful abomination to her world. Although, her grudge only surfaced when they were alone. Only then would Leah start calling her the most horrible of names, damning her birth parents and treating her like a slave.

Esther never said a word to her father. Not out of fear as Leah thought, but because she knew it would break his heart. This man had raised her under his roof and loved her unconditionally. Hurting him was not the proper way to return the favor. Esther was eternally indebted to this man and happily accepted her aunt’s vicious treatment knowing she was only protecting him.

Still, this house gave her the creeps.

Luckily, her aunt lived far away and rarely came to visit. Although her visits often gave her nightmares, Esther didn’t suffer from the traumatizing scars. In fact, she had led a pretty exiting life so far. Her unmatched intelligence and her unwavering honesty had got her in a fair lot of trouble. But upon realizing that a kind and friendly heart hid behind this firing spirit, people generally let go of any grudge and accepted the truth.

Isidore, was up as well, in the other guest room, reminiscing. He was proud of the girl he had raised. A girl that had a habit of challenging everyone’s beliefs, including his own. She raided everyone with questions that often confused them and made them doubt their own beliefs. Esther hated anyone that tried to impose a belief upon her without backing it up with the proper arguments. Isidore knew his daughter was natural born journalist. And so he tried to help her to the best of his ability.

His daughter was leaving for a whole year. His little birdie grew up and was ready to be released in the wild… You can’t blame a sleep deprived, nostalgic man for coming up with such a strange metaphor! As if to put an end to his torment, Esther’s alarm set off in the other room. It was 6:30 AM. Time was closing in.

Isidore got to his feet and went to knock on Esther’s door. She told him to come in and they both sat on the bed. He wanted to tell he loved her and how he was going to miss her… Yet, he couldn’t find the words. But his daughter knew why he had come, it was time to say goodbye. She hugged him tightly and told him that she loved him. Isidore returned her hug, and for a moment, they clung to each other…

An hour later, Esther gladly left her aunt’s house. And without a second look back, she jumped in her father’s car. A new adventure awaited her, a new country to explore, new people to meet and above all, new ideas to challenge her mind…

 Tel Abib. Source: Center Blog


Badr and Esther Part One: https://quantumpassion.wordpress.com/2014/08/14/badr-and-esther-part-one/

Badr and Esther – Part One

Gentle footsteps caressing the tile of the floor… A tender knock on the door, one that can only come from a mother, was supposed to wake Badr from his sleep.

It was a minute past 5 AM. His mother was punctual as always. How ironic would it be that she would lose track of time on a day as important as this one? Of course, that was impossible. Badr can always rely on his mother. That was one of the few things he was sure of in this world.

Today, though, the wake-up call was useless, for Badr hadn’t slept. He had gone to bed quite early for a summer night. And for the first couple of hours, kept shifting endlessly, looking for a comfortable position that he never found. So, he finally got up and sat on the ledge of the window gazing up to the sky.

It was a full moon, called in Arabic Badr. It stood in the middle sky, reigning the mighty city of Cairo. He could see most of the city from his bedroom on the 4th floor. The moon was giving him a chance, thought Badr, a chance to say good-bye to the place that held him in its streets for 17 years, a chance to engrave a picture of the city into his mind.

To the west, glistening between two buildings, was the unmistakable Nile. The river held a mystical spell on Badr, unlike his Egyptian friends. Even though he had spent his entire life in Egypt, Badr didn’t call it home. He came from another land, a country he has never visited, but was the birthplace of his ancestors. Still, this beautiful city charmed him and he knew he was going to miss it.

Quietly, he opened the door. His mother greeted him with a smile that couldn’t hide her puffy eyes. Badr wasn’t the only one that had a sleepless night. His father was in the kitchen, trying to read a newspaper. Although, the way he threw it to the side, when he heard his son’s footsteps, proved he was clearly disinterested.

Rushing back to his room, he checked his passport and his Visa. He had a feeling they would be exactly where he left them 10 minutes ago. But, science was getting advanced; someone might have figured out a way to teleport them… No, they were still there, either science hasn’t reached such a point yet or maybe his documents weren’t important enough. One thing was for sure, his paranoia will soon drive him crazy.

A huge dish of Feta Cheese & Green Fava Beans with Crackers on the side awaited him on the kitchen table. There was noway this food was going to fit in his stomach but his parents tried non the less. Badr didn’t resist. He won’t be tasting his mother’s cuisine for the next year so he tried to get one year’s supply in one breakfast… By the time he had finished, the sun’s arrays had already conquered most of the sky. He was leaving soon.

His mother went to wake his brother and his sister. His brother Samir was sleeping in the same room, just like the old days. He had left years ago to work as lawyer in Alexandria. It was hard to get 2 days off work, but there was noway he was going to miss his younger brother’s departure. Jumanah, on the other hand, had just finished her first year at the nearby Engineering school and still lived at home.

At least, his parents wouldn’t be lonely, he thought. Deep down, he felt guilty for leaving his parents. Even though they kept saying they were proud of him, he knew his departure saddened them as well. Making his parents miserable was something his good nature refused to do, but still he wasn’t going to let this marvelous opportunity slip away.

That was the closest he ever got to selfishness or ever will. Or so, he promised himself.

His suitcase was already packed and stood in the hallway next to the door. His room was meticulously ordered. He had spent the majority of the past day pretending to clean it whilst he was really absorbing all the memories that were triggered by old photos, a diary he had from his early teen years, his scrapbook… He was reconnecting with his past because he was afraid he was going to lose his identity.

This wasn’t the time to do some soul-searching nor was it time to get cold feet. His flight left in 3 hours and the airport was one hour away. His brain was ordering his legs to move but his heart kept overriding the orders. And so he lingered. His father and his father took his suitcase to put in the car. Any minute now, they will return and he would have to leave.

Moments later, they came back. Everyone was standing in the hallway waiting silently for him to make a move. He took a deep breath for his heart was beating madly. And taking one last look at the flag hung on the wall, he left home.

6th October Bridge, from Wikipedia.

 

Don’t judge too quickly!

That’s a video of a little Palestinian kid addressing the world… I know some of you have already thought of a word to describe this little kid: terrorist. Due to the language barrier, you might think he’s saying something like: kill every Jew and every American on Earth. He’s an Arab wearing the “Koufia” (black and white scarf) and what he’s saying sounds gibberish to you. He’s bound to be a terrorist or probably on the path of becoming one. Right?

Actually, he’s just reciting a Poem by a Palestinian poet called: Khaled Elhaber. The poem’s title translates to: “We’re fine here in Gaza, tell us about you”. Now, I could go on and give you the rest of the poem. But, you know what let’s judge the kid further.

“We’re fine here in…GAZA!”? BAM! Key word: Gaza. So, automatically, he must be one of Hamas child militants bragging about the “massive” artillery they’ve got there and how it’s going to destroy the occupation. “tell us about you” Hum. I can’t find a proper explanation for this one but I’m going ahead with my reasoning because I must be wright. After all, the Palestinians are crazy and their poetry probably doesn’t make sense anyways. Right?

Wrong again! Here is the rest of the translated poem:

” We’re fine here in Gaza, tell us how you’re doing!

We’re at war but we’re fine, so tell us what’s going on with you?

Our martyrs are under the rubble

Our kids live under tents, asking about you: where are you?

We’re fine here in Gaza, tell us how you’re doing!

The sea is behind us (there’s nowhere to escape) but we’re fighting,

The enemy is in front of us and we’re still fighting.

We have enough food, weapons and peace promises, we thank you for your great support!

We’re fine here in Gaza, tell us how you’re doing!

Our souls, our wounds, our homes, our sky, our faces, our blood, our eyes, our coffins

Protect us from your fake peace, promises and negotiations.

We’re fine here in Gaza, tell us how you’re doing! (X2)

We’re at war but we’re fine, so tell us what’s going on with you? ”

So what do you think? The kid is obviously being sarcastic. He keeps asking the rest of the world: how they’re doing even though it should be the other way around. After all, it’s the Palestinians that have just lost 1826 of their children, women, men and elderly. They are the ones who lost their homes, schools and hospitals during this carnage. 140000 of them decided to flee their homes to the safe protection of the UNRWA schools where- guess what?- they were… Bombed! And still, this kid is worried about the rest of the world. See how nice he turned out to be?

He also mentions the fake peace treaties that no one respected. For God’s sake, Israel didn’t respect the borders of Palestine even though they’re clearly defined by the UN in 1948. Israel kept on building colonies and kicking Palestinians out. Don’t forget the blockade! Israel is controlling the electricity, the gas, the water and basically anything entering Gaza even Diapers. For God’s sake is Hamas going to build tunnels with diapers?

I “forgot” to mention one sad detail: the Kid lost his life one hour after shooting the video! He joined the martyrs under the rubble. Sad ending to what might have been a great life! Did I mention there are 446 kids who had the same fate.