Lightness of Being…

Summayya thought she was going to get sick: again. Her Mosque Board meetings were exhausting for her. Trying to convince the old uncles stuck in a different time and space was like trying to shift a mountain out of its place. Nothing short of a blast would do. This case was different though, there was too much at stake.

Can’t they comprehend that?

Jan, Zack’s South African CEO, had made a discreet call to the Mosque when Zack did not show up to work for a whole week without calling. When he did not answer any of his pages, messages, and emails he intuited something terrible must have gone wrong. Zack had worked for him for over a decade and had never missed a single day without informing him.

Summayya had just happened to be at the office when the call was made. She immediately called for an emergency meeting. The uncles couldn’t see the point of having such a meeting. There wasn’t much they could do anyway.

“What do you mean, this person’s life is at stake? We are his community, we have to help him!”

“But beti, you don’t understand. We have to protect our larger community’s interest. If we meddle in these cases, the FBI would be on us in a heart beat. We don’t want to destroy more lives in the process.”

“And you think the FBI is not on you now? There are probably many spies hanging out in this room alone!”

The uncles shifted uncomfortably avoiding each other’s eyes.

“You are young and idealistic, and you don’t understand how these things work. It is better to just stay out of it, who knows maybe he went home or something?”

“Which one is this Brother Zackariyya anyway?” one short, pudgy grey haired uncle had a sudden bout of amnesia.

“He is the African brother.”

“Oh African?” A raised eyebrow.

“First of all, he is originally from Yemen. And what does it matter where he is from anyway? It could be any one of you guys! We need to find him, we need to organize his defense if he is under the custody of the FBI, we need to March and protest and write letters to the governor, President and anyone who has ears to listen!” Summayya was bristling with passion.

“Oh no beti. If he is in their custody, how do we know he is not guilty? Maybe he was part of Al Qaeda. After all, he only started attending the Masjid recently, we don’t know his past.”

“He has been attending the Masjid for over four years now. And it is totally understandable! I mean none of you guys were here when you were younger!”

“There’s no need to get insolent now” She had hit a nerve.

The Imam, a quiet Algerian who had been an active member of the Islamic Salvation Front, a popular grass roots Political Party spoke up for the first time. In measured tones he stated:

“It is our Islamic duty to stand up for Justice even against our own selves. There is a brother in need out there, and if we don’t help him who will?” Summayya felt a surge of gratitude for her Imam. He was by far her favorite person in the room; he could never shed his revolutionary spirit and more than once had taken her side in critical issues.

Another older African American brother, an Ex Black Panther Member, spoke up: “If we keep quiet in this matter, they will be back for more of us. We can’t let this brother go down without a fight.”

All hell broke loose in the room.

They continued squabbling till late into that night.

{-}

Guantanamo Bay.

The images Zack had seen on TV, invariably had a couple of brothers playing ball, some doing Dhirk (Remembrances) with the beads, or quietly reading Quran, it all looked so benign. Aside from the orange jump suits and chain linked fences, it could almost be the regular community center they were showing a caption of. It was also so clean on TV.

During his transit there he was roughly shaved and cut in several places in the process. They put on a face mask, ear muffs, mittens, goggles, and shackles on both his arms and legs. All done in the name of security of course. The sensory deprivation, multiplied his anxieties infinitely, Zack was sure that he would never make it to his destination. Every move, cough, door opening, made him jump out of his seat.

They are going to shoot me anytime now.

He almost wished they would, to end his uncertainty.

He was shoved in an open sided wire cage that was exactly four short strides in one direction and three in the other. No one left the cell except for about 2-3 fifteen breaks, to shower and exercise, per week.

 His grand total material wealth consisted of a raggedy blanket, 2 cm thick military standard mattress, 2 buckets one for water and one for waste, a one quart flask, two orange boiler suits, a pair of flip-flops, two bath towels (one for washing, one for use as a prayer mat), a washcloth, toothpaste, Soap, Shampoo, and a copy of the Quran. The Quran was a handy tool for the interrogators who invariably used it to further degrade and humiliate him.

The buckets were never really cleaned out, leaving them overflowing at times, and always reeking of an unbearably gross stench.

Zack couldn’t believe it. He was at Gitmo.

Zackary Moody, Senior Managing Consultant, father of Hannah Moody, owner of a plush mansion in the suburbs of the Capitol, driver of the latest 911 Turbo Porsche, and proud member of  his local Mosque.

What am I doing here?

On the first day, he surveyed his cell and belongings and started laughing. Slowly at first, shoulders shaking, mouth twitching, and then loudly. He lost control, laughing so hard, his eyes started tearing; so hard, his ribs aching; so hard ,he fell to the ground swaying.

The guard looked at him shaking his head. This nut case has barely been one day and is already losing it.

{-}

The day he was supposed to pick her up Hannah refused to leave the glass door overlooking their porch. Her mom had moved into a ground level, 2 bedroom condo, two minutes away from her parents’ home. She was about to turn five, and her father had promised her a big surprise.

“How big is it?” inquisitively.

“HUGE!”

“Is it huge like Chucky cheese?” prodding.

“It is huge like the whole world and what is contained in it”

“awww baba I can’t wait!” She threw her tiny arms around his neck and planted a huge sloppy kiss on his forehead.

She held vigil all through the morning into the night. Her mom couldn’t get her to leave her post for anything. She was afraid that if she left her baba wouldn’t see her when he came for her.

“Come on honey, maybe he forgot” Jenna tried knowing he would never forget.

“Baba would NEVER forget me!”

Jenna tried bribing her, cajoling her, offering her treats in the kitchen and finally gave up. She brought her lunch and some snacks, and let her sit it out. She called Zack many times but he didn’t answer.

This is strange!

At night, Jenna carefully carried Hannah into the bedroom, she had fallen asleep by the door.

“Mommy!” Hannah called out sleepily.

“Yes honey”

“What if…what if he is wrong?!” she meant to say ‘something is wrong’. Her eyes were welled up in tears and her lips trembled uncontrollably. She was giving voice to her worst fears.

“Oh no honey, I am sure he will come, maybe he got caught up or something. Don’t worry, sleep and I promise I will wake you up the minute he is here”

“You pwomise?”

“Yes honey I do.”

Hannah closed her eyes letting the tears fall down. She worried irrationally about what she was going to eat. Her daddy insisted on making all her food from scratch ever since she was weaned. He bought organic vegetables and fruits, organic Halal meat (not an easy find), and made juices from scratch. Hannah was so pure, he wanted to feed her only the best. When it was time to go to her mom’s he would send her with carefully labeled Tupperware dated with all her breakfasts, lunches and dinners (and even snacks!). Hannah loyally refused to eat anything but what he sent her.

“I am gonna starve to death” she cried in self pity.

Her daddy did not show up the next day or the next; and Hannah did not stop keeping her vigil until a whole week had passed and she was convinced he was lost, or worse.

Her mother had to give her new food in the same tupperwares her dad sent her with. She convinced her that they were leftovers from what was sent before. She ate it only because her baba would be disappointed if she refused to eat his food.

{-}

Summayya organized all her resources at the disposal of Br. Zackariyya’s case. She contacted her interfaith network, coordinated her Youth Action Committee, and they all flooded letters to the Governor, Senators, Mayor, FBI, ACLU, Amnesty International etc. The Mosque had agreed to let individuals support her but they did not want the Masjid name to appear officially.

She contacted Jenna in order to solicit her to help.

“How do you know what happened to him?” Jenna inquired.

“We actually don’t know. In these cases everything is secret, the evidence, the detention place, etc. We are trying to locate more information.”

“I am sorry but I don’t think I can help you. It’s just…not my kind of thing you know?” Jenna worked for the Government; she couldn’t jeopardize her position, who would take care of her little one if she lost her job?

Summayya tried to persuade her to no avail.

Jenna’s parents were shocked.

“Zack, I would have never thought” her dad swore softly.

“You are lucky honey, he could have taken Hannah back to Iran (pronounced I-ren)” Her mother had seen ‘Not without my daughter’, she knew what these Mozlems were upto.

“Mom he is from Kenya” Jenna said wearily.

“These wackos are all the same, I am just happy you are safe Jenna” her dad had fought in the Vietnam war, he didn’t care where Zack was from, they were all the same.

“What am I gonna do with Hannah? She adores him. She keeps getting nightmares and wakes up screaming. She hasn’t eaten much and is always running a fever. Her teachers have called me from work so many times to pick her up. I don’t know what to do” Jenna was crying.

“Send her to a doctor honey. She will get over it. A little medication and she will be as good as new” her dad was the family’s problem solver.

Jenna sighed.

The next day she made an appointment with her family’s psychiatrist. Hannah needed help fast.

{-to be continued}