Grief is Sept 11th’s Common Language

By Kelly Hayes-Raitt | September 11th, 2007 | 2 Comments »

The black-clad woman only stood as tall as my chest, her imploring dark eyes piercing my heart, her relentless Arabic revealing a deep pain I hope I never know, her hand clutching mine stiffly from elbow to knuckles, refusing to let go until she believed I understood.

She wants her slaughtered family remembered.

Today is September 11th, and no doubt America is remembering the 3,000 people who died, some innocently, some bravely, all unnecessarily, 6 years ago.

Today, in Shatilla, a refugee camp in Beirut, I participated in a commemoration of a similar sort: the horrifying, brutal slaying of nearly 3,000 innocent Palestinians by conservative Christian Maronite forces during Israel’s invasion of Lebanon in 1982.

It is said that Ariel Sharon, then the head of the Israeli military forces, watched the 2 ½ day slaughter from the roof of a nearby office building.

One after another, mothers and fathers, daughters and sons rose and told their stories – stories of lovers lost, trusted companions killed, children dismembered. They brought framed photos and booklets of xeroxed id papers – anything to make their family member real for a group of strangers.

The old woman leaned on me, heavily, as if trying to transfer the weight on her heart. Once a year, she trots out her very deep, very private grief publicly to motivate a delegation of international activists who are determined to hold Israel accountable for its atrocities.

She kisses me, not the customary 3-cheek kiss, but adds a 4th unexpected kiss, as if to seal my commitment to remember.

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