Home > Middle East > The little boy who couldn’t see.

The little boy who couldn’t see.


http://arabwomanblues.blogspot.com/

It has been an excruciatingly painful 3 days. I keep the mask on, go through the motions but inside I am ripped apart…again and again…

Z (a young cousin), his wife and their little boy arrived from Baghdad a few days ago.

Z. has some very serious health problems, ever since he was illegally arrested and imprisoned for over 3 months, on no charges. Since that day, he developed a grave illness – the doctor wrote in his report : “patient developed symptoms following shock…”

His wife W. had much difficulty conceiving, doctors blamed it on “stress”, “stress due to environmental circumstances.”

She finally got pregnant and gave birth to a baby boy. A sweet little thing, a withdrawn, fearful, quiet, sweet little thing.

They are on a medical visit here. Other people travel for leisure, but Iraqis travel for medical reasons – medical “tourism“.

Little A. is unwell – very unwell. Now a little over 2 years old, he can’t see no more…his vision degenerated rapidly…in a rush, the family arrives for a miracle solution.

Little A. is taken to a specialist, the doctor runs a battery of tests, shakes his head and marks in his dossier :”cecity – cause unknown.” The doctor then says to the befuddled parents : ” it must be toxicity related ”

That’s it – little A. is blind. He will never be able to see no more…he will not see the blue of the sky, the budding of flowers, little insects crawling on green grass, the pink icing on birthday cakes, nor the multi colors of drawing crayons…that’s it, A. will live in total obscurity for the rest of his living days — the toxic obscurity of Liberation.

Father and son are doomed…they are doomed because someone somewhere decided so…decided this was going to be their fate – toxic countries with toxic people decided so.

After the final medical verdict, little A. stayed at our place. Mom switched on the TV and kids cartoons were on. Little A. hearing the little voices of fun from afar, from some distance, tugged at Mom’s pleading “Bibi, Bibi – (grandma), ashoof shwaya – (me see a little).”

Then, little A. started rubbing his little swollen eyes, swollen from too many ophthalmological exams, with his little knuckles, hoping to clear his vision…

I later caught my mother stifling, silencing, her cries in the dark, in the obscurity…

http://vidrebel.wordpress.com/

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