Oh, I’m doomed
because I have been an immigrant in Meshech,
because I’ve made my home among Kedar’s tents.
I’ve lived far too long
with people who hate peace.
I’m for peace,
but when I speak, they are for war.
Psalm 120:4-6
I. Meshach
The archaeologist peers at a recently excavated wall of dirt and stone and observes a dark horizontal strata of earth, “. . . beautiful example of a destruction layer . . . high carbon composition, likely result of fire, destruction . . .” The student underlings listen and nod and ponder the meaning of this dark line; I imagine flaming timbers, the burning of villages and houses, the screams of people running with what they could carry, feeling the absence of their “protecting spirits”1 . . .
II. people who hate peace
Yousef and Nuha’s2 shop and home were in the neighborhood of Al-A’amiriya in western Baghdad, along the road heading west to Abu Graib. Their shop was popular and often crowded. After the invasion it attracted the attention of the U.S. military, who routinely checked the shop for suspected insurgent activity. Over time, U.S. soldiers began to frequent the shop, buying souvenirs for family members back home. Hospitality towards the Americans in turn attracted the attention of insurgents, said Yousef, “They questioned why the American Army would come in. They thought that it meant I was collaborating with them, and because of that I was threatened.” After receiving a series of death threats, they moved the family (3 children at the time) in with Yousef’s brother in a different neighborhood for several months while they decided what to do next. An Iraqi friend in Aleppo suggested that they join him in Syria where no visa was required. That year, Yousef found work in a textile factory in Aleppo that made children’s clothes, while Nuha worked from home making jewelry. They rented a house in Aleppo for only six months, thinking that they would soon be able to return to Iraq, but a year passed and the news from Iraq was still not good, said Yousef, “We realized that Iraq was moving towards the worst. The situations there were deteriorating. So, with this deterioration, the decision [to seek resettlement] becomes stronger.” Two years later, they were still in Aleppo, and Nuha delivered their fourth child.
III. they are for war
After Yousef and Nuha and their four children passed their citizenship exams, I brought them two pies (apple and razzleberry) to celebrate. First we visited over baked fish and yoghurt salad. Then they brought out the pies.
I got the updates on what everyone was doing in school and work. Nuha was volunteering each week at two preschools.
She wanted to ask me something, but was hesitant.
“Mr. Ken, are there two kinds of citizens?
“What do you mean?”
“People like you and then people like us who come to the country?”
“Is that the way it seems to you?”
“It’s different for me because of hijab.”
Then she told me a story:
“On that day [December 2, 2015], Yousef called and said he can’t take me to appointment so I take the bus. Later coming home I was at the bus stop. There [were] three women talking really loud, were looking at me; it scared me the way they looking at me; they talked loud, looked at me funny, walked toward me shouting, then stopped, then kicked the sign. When I got home I told Yousef what happened. He was watching TV; news showed the woman with hijab like me, then I know why those people angry at me.”
I didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry. You fled our war, and now it followed you here.”
“All I want is to live safely with my family, in peace.”
[Amen]
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1 “My protecting spirit has taken to flight, and is seeking someone else…” from Ludlul Bel Nemiqi, The poem of the righteous sufferer. Lambert, W.G. 1960. Babylonian Wisdom Literature. Oxford, UK: At the Clarendon Press.
2 All names are pseudonyms.