Shadows

I awoke to the sound of furious barking. What time is it? Looking at the window I could see that day had not yet dawned– before six in the morning. Why was Suka – our tiny doggie – barking madly at the entrance window??

Apprehensively, I get up and run to look outside. I could see shadows moving about in the garden. What to do?? Do I call out?? Do I pretend not to be at home?? Which is the safest move?? Have “they” come for me?? Good God, spare us – My kids!!

Suka continues to bark madly, and I hear a chuckle from outside, “They have a dog!” “Not a very large one, judging by its bark!” English!

I hesitate, then call out in Arabic: “Who is outside?” Arabic, “We are here to search the area, house by house. We are the Army” “Please wait until we get dressed.” “Very well.”

Quickly I call both my daughter and son, “Get dressed! Quick!”

As I open the door, I see a number of men in uniform, all tall, all indistinguishable in the dark. (Remember we don’t have electricity.)

“Please come in.” Dressed in all-covering clothes and hijab, I step aside to let them in. They enter. I count ten. The rest remain outside. They enter the living room, which has a large window, and I could distinguish three Americans.

They look around, seeing my huge bookcase, one comments, “You read a lot Ma’am?”, “Yes, in fact I do”

“What’s this? Heinlein? Asimov? Grisham?” He turns to look at me again, this time, with a different expression in his eyes. “Do you have a weapon?” “Yes, of course. It’s in that cabinet”

He opens the cabinet and looks closely inside.

“You play Diablo?! And what’s this?! Grand Theft Auto??” He forgets all about the weapon and turns to us with a wide grin on his face, and astonishment in his eyes. My son asks him, “Is ours the first house you search?”, “No, why?”, “Because all my friends have these games, why are you so surprised?” The serviceman looks embarrassed, and turns to inspect the weapon.

They went through every room, every cabinet, closet and drawer silently. After they accomplished their mission, in about thirty minutes, they walked out, gray shadows in the twilight.

Comments

[ljm]

Shirin, I'm not sure. Maybe because it was "us" instead of "them."

[Finn Connell]

My heart goes out to you. This invasion and occupation is/was so wrong, done for all the wrong reasons and it is the innocents that are payig such a heavy price. I grew up under the shadow of the British occupation of Ireland and I lived first hand the terror of an occupier. Not, I may say, to nearly the extent that you and yours are being opressd.
A funny story if I may. I was on my way home, very late at night...OK early in the morning... from playing a rugby match when myself and a companion were pulled over by a machine gun toting armored car. We were spreadeagled on the hood of the car while a very young, pimply faced boy shaking like a leaf held an automatic gun in my ribs. He was shaking so badly I asked him to point the gun away in case it went off. He did so! Someone opened the trunk and saw/smelled all our rugby gear in back. After spreading it out on the ground and after finding no incriminating evidence the officer in charge was positively conversational. He, in turned out, had played rugby against my school we were on the same pitch together as youngsters. As we were talking an early morning milk cart was going by so we bought a couple of bottles of milk and stood toasting rugby, our schools and whatever. 'Tis a strange strange world but I can never ever forget that it was my bloody country and these we were invaders sticking their guns in my ribs. Even today, as I write, I get mad as hell. I live in America now and I am dreadfully ashamed I apologize to you and your family with all my heart.

[Shirin]

"I suppose this means something in terms of security in Iraq."

Such as what, exactly?

[ljm]

Sahar, hope you and your family are safe and sound at home tonight. Maybe you can sleep longer in the morning to make up for all the excitement the surprise inspection caused you, A on P.

[Laura]

Playing with Shadows

Reading your story was like watching shadows and reflections of shadows.

Your sleep interrupted--again--by fear. What is out there? Who will it be this time? Friend or foe?

Shadows in the dark. Who is in there? What will it be this time? Foe or friend?

It's your house. How dare they enter? How dare they interrupt? Who do they think they are? When will our home be ours, safely ours?

It's your house. How dare we enter? How dare we interrupt? Who do we think we are anyway? When will I be home, safely home?

Awkwardness. No introductions. Strangers...so strange, so estranged.

Books. My books. I've read those books. I know them too.

A different look. We've shared another's thoughts--seen the same things through a writer's eyes....Could we be alike? But I'm a stranger, in your home. Yet in another time, with another reason, we could be friends...maybe. If I weren't a stranger, a shadow, breaking into your home, scaring you, your children, even your dog.

A weapon to look at. And...oh wow, look. Games. I've played those games...and my friends....They're at my home, too, stacked, maybe, in that same haphazard way. You play these? (So do I. Can I say that? I see you. Can you see me?) Is this the first house you search? Oh. Yes. You are like me, and I am like you. And I am an intruder. And I am a shadow. And--today--we can see only darkness.
*********
What happens in your home and in your city and your country is so wrong. I hate that it is happening, and I am doing what I can so that wrongs are made right. Someday Sahar, I hope our people can be real and true and alive with each other.

[ljm]

I suppose this means something in terms of security in Iraq. Other than being awakened so early in the morning and frightening the heck out of you, it sounds like it went pretty well. You and your family handled it very well. Hopefully, now they will leave you alone.