What would you do if…

Bomb site after the assassination of ISF Captain Wissam Eid on January 25 2008. (Photo UPI)

Dear Mr. MP, Minister, simple politician rambling about false witnesses, USA influence in the Middle East, Iran, Syria, political principles (we all know nobody gives a …. about),

Imagine you are a mechanic’s wife, you cook lunch one day in your kitchen, waiting for your husband and sons to come home and you suddenly hear an explosion, turn on the TV and see your son’s car shattered to pieces with a dead body in it? You find out he is fine (l7amdella), you jump with joy, but later on you find out it was actually your husband’s decapitated body you saw on TV.

Imagine you’re a father who spent his life educating his only son, proud of what he had accomplished, that you’re enjoying playing with your grandchildren and dream to laugh and dance at their weddings when they grow up. And then you hear an explosion one morning, somebody calls you, asks about your name and doesn’t dare to tell you that your son is no more. And when you’re 75, you bury him. But in your heart you know that this is the reason they called. And you don’t even dare to see his grave.

Imagine you’re a highschool teacher’s wife, and one day they tell you your husband saved the life of a high profile politician he didn’t even like. How? By accidentally taking the blow himself.

Imagine you are part of those people who you avoid looking in the eye, whom you think of as the “masses” and whom you serve the same speech in the same dead language every week. Imagine that everybody around you is talking about famous martyr politicians, alleged “false witnesses”, currupt investigations, abolishing your only chance for justice, while nobody asks you what you want, how you’re dealing with your life everyday, with your depression, with your chidren’s depression, with your nightmares.

How nobody even looks at you to ask you if you want that justice they are questioning on television, if you feel sick and angry when they are threatening, flexing their muscles and their weapons.

What would you feel like to be completely forgotten in your grief? What would you do?


About View over Beirut

For all the stories left unwritten.
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