Reflections Away from War

I Three heavy books and a laptop in one hand, the phone in the other, I walked into the cafeteria. A table with white A4 papers, magic markers, and duct tape stood by the door. The two students running the table laughed hysterically about some professor they didn’t like. Cameras and other students crowded the table. As I came closer, I saw the signs. Different words, same thought. “Our hearts are with Kobane,” “We are all Kobane,” “Kobane is not alone.” A guy approached the table, smiling and laughing with his friends. He wrote a sign, played around with his girlfriend. A photographer told him it was his turn. His sign read, “My heart bleeds for Kobane.” Laughing, he stood for the photographer, who counted down to the shutter. His mournful frown appeared.

II We praise you. We idolize you. We are all Peshmerga. We are all Kobane. We sit in our air-conditioned living rooms, drinking tea and making inappropriate jokes, and a wave of sadness hits us as we watch the latest news. It’s a wave: at times it hits forceful and fast, at other times, slow, more gradual. Either way, a wave: it passes. But we are all Peshmerga. We lie on our beds with our laptops in tow, another cup of tea, we share the latest news about another horrendous struggle in Kobane. We are furious at the world, at humanity, at our government. We complain about their silence. We share more updates, more statuses on Facebook, Twitter, write another complaint. A breeze sweeps into our thoughts and we thank God for blessing us with all that He has. We are blessed to not be in battle. Another update, another rage. Close the laptop and vow to not look at gruesome images anymore. We drive to dinner feeling reenergized and blessed. On the way, a group of Traffic Police and Peshmerga stop us, ask for our registration and driver’s license, expired, and fine us. We resent them. We swear. We are all Peshmerga. We are all Kobane. *