Eight years ago, I spent a month in Iraq. One impression stayed with me over all others: of the courage and resilience of the Iraqis. Despite years of violence, they kept at it--going to work, raising families, finding reasons to joke and laugh. I was particularly fond of one of our drivers, Qusay. He was a big guy, a former tae kwon do champion and a doting father. He was a Shia, married to a Sunni. And he worried every day, as we went out on assignment in Baghdad, about keeping his family safe. He showed me snapshots of two adorable children. Qusay asked me if I could help him get visas through the American embassy. A dilettante in Iraq, I had no idea what to do. But I felt a lot of guilt. Here someone who was keeping me safe every day in a dangerous place. And I could do nothing for him in return. I left Baghdad and over the last eight years I occasionally heard reports about my short-time colleagues in Iraq. Some carried on. Some found a way out. I always wondered what happened to Qusay, the man with the broad smile and easy manner. Today, my colleague Doug Smith came by my desk, with a young man. The handsome teenager had dark eyes and a perfect smile. Doug told me this was Qusays son. Qusay found a coyote and a way out of his sad homeland. Now they live in Belgium and today his son is here safe in the USA, just visiting and getting ready to enjoy the US-Belgium soccer game. I cant really describe how happy, and relieved, that makes me.
Posted on: Tue, 01 Jul 2014 17:27:28 +0000
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