CPTnet
December 14, 2004

IRAQ REFLECTION: Waiting (Psalm 88)

by Sheila Provencher

Last week I read a news report that said up to seven Iraqis are kidnapped
every day. On December 9, I found out that CPT's neighbor might be one of
them. He was driving from Baghdad to Kirkuk when he disappeared about seven
days earlier. Sometimes kidnappers ask for ransom; sometimes thieves kill
the victim and keep the money, phone, and car.

He has three children: *Mohammed (8) and Esam (6), my two miniature
bodyguards who always insist on walking me down the street, and their sister
Fatima (2.) When I visited, their mother, Um Mohammed sat on the living
room floor and wept. The boys smiled hesitantly at me and did not know how
to comfort her.

They have always welcomed me to their home. Now they are shattered.
"Allah Kareem, Allah Kareem (God is generous)," whispered Um Mohammed's
elderly mother. She begged CPT to pray for them. All they can do now is
sit by the phone and wait.

These past days, large explosions have shaken our apartment. On Saturday,
December 4, we ran up to the roof to assess the damage. Black smoke
billowed across the river. I have become numb to explosions, but this time
I started weeping because I could tell from its size that people were dying.
In fact, seventy people died between December 4 and December 9, when I heard
the news of my neighbor's disappearance.

Why is everything falling apart? The Western countries point at the Iraqi
resistance, the foreign terrorists, the common thieves. And the violence
of these armed actors surely causes terrible damage. But from the
perspective of those who are bombed, what is the difference between an
insurgency bomb dropped on my street and a U.S. bomb dropped on a Fallujah
clinic? An explosion is an explosion is an explosion. I know the rhetoric
of "good guys" and "bad guys," but from here it all feels meaningless in
the rubble of a home bombed by U.S. fighter jets, a school shattered by a
terrorist attack, a kidnapped father, a child accidentally shot by
Coalition soldiers. Violence begets violence begets violence. It is all
starting to blend together.

I have difficulty finding hope. But I hear that a sheikh in a violent
Baghdad neighborhood is gathering people to do nonviolent resistance.
Another Iraqi human rights worker and friend is building a network of local
peace activists. And tomorrow I will visit Noor and Abu Zayneb to cuddle
their three-month old treasure, baby Hamsa. She will be hope for now.

What can we do in the West? Try to break the pattern of greed and fear.
Tell young people they can resist registering for the draft. Listen to a
soldier's story and learn what war is really like. Find a peace community
and try to build it, step by step.

It is a dark time now. We live in constant Advent, waiting, waiting in the
darkness.

*All names are changed