Several years ago, I had the wonderful opportunity to work on a global health project. As with all international travel, the lessons and experiences were priceless. Towards the end of the trip I learned about “accepted” cultural practices that deeply saddened me. Namely, there was systemic abuse at essentially all levels in the region. These abuses were directed towards the vulnerable and weak. In most cases the victims were single or widowed women. One of the stories that was shared with me was that of a mother (widowed) who could not sustain her family financially. In order to cover expenses, she had to “pimp out” her daughter. Unfortunately, this had become common practice in that society.
After hearing the stories and confirming with others, I did what I could to support the victims and to voice my opposition. But I had so many questions in my head. How can this exist in our modern world? Where were the human rights people? Where were the women’s rights people? Where were the feminists? Why was this portion of earth forgotten or never on the radar by those who claim to fight against oppression and for freedom?
In a way, I was not surprised by the lack of importance and attention given to this region. Especially given that our country has a centuries old history of slavery and acceptance of this abuse and oppression. These questions and thoughts inflamed my heart. I knew as we traveled back to the safety of our homes, those victims could not feel this same emotional or physical comfort.
More recently, I was reflecting on what could cause a society to reach this level of abuse and “acceptance”. In most instances, the apparent answer I found was war. In particular, the abuse of the vulnerable and weak was a consistent and forgotten consequence of war. This consequence is seen immediately and sadly persists long after the conflict has ended. History is witness to this. But what is the root cause of war? In short, it is greed, addiction to power and control. All of these are diseases of the heart.
In order to prevent abuse of the weak, those with diseased (weak) hearts need to declare war on their hearts rather than on others.
I wrote this poem (see below) as a dedication to all victims of oppression on the flight back home from that trip. I hope it will be of benefit and encouragement for all of us to reflect and cleanse our hearts.
A blank stare
They say the eyes are the windows to the soul
In your case it is probably just a void, a hole.
Of a childhood that was taken away,
you had no say.
Grew up too fast because you were considered
the lowest part of the caste.
Thus, mandating a grievous task.
You just wanted to be chaste
But he took advantage of your situation.
A nation filled with subjugation of a population
A numbing sensation,
racing,
through your body.
The eyes are weeping,
too many demons,
too many hurtful seasons,
heart screaming,
‘hide me’
But nobody is hearing,
your screaming.
You are reaching,
out for help but no hand no feeling,
leaving,
you with…
A blank stare,
eyes filled with despair,
but cannot share,
will not dare,
the consequences are too much to bear.
Even if someone indeed cares.
Too much pain and suffering,
your silence is deafening,
there is definitely something,
even if you cannot say anything.
Your eyes speak louder than words.
The black in them is reflecting a light,
bright (er)
than the surrounding white.
Glowing like a full moon in the sky,
screaming,
I want to be free, I want to fly.
Sigh,
the glimmer of hope seems to fade to die,
as reality comes by.
And the sun refuses to rise, why?
A blank stare,
eyes filled with despair,
but cannot share,
will not dare,
the consequences are too much to bear.
Even if someone indeed cares.
Too much pain and suffering,
your silence is deafening,
there is definitely something,
even if you do not say.
Listen… hey.
No worries, the oppressors will have their day,
they will pay.
Sooner or later they will wish they were just dirt
or clay.
At that time the sun will rise and shine,
a hint of the divine,
you will see the ray,
chasing away…
The weeping, the demons,
the hurtful seasons,
heart will no longer be screaming.
No more blank stares,
eyes no longer filled with despair,
can share,
will dare,
no consequences to bear.
Death has come to this nightmare.
They say, the eyes are the windows to the soul,
in your case it is a beautiful glow,
like the full moon in the middle of the night,
far away from city lights.
Victory is in sight,
no… rather,
you have won the fight.
Nasser Kashou
