Part III
"Fire"
Suddenly I hear the crack of the door. Already here, coming up. It is twenty-five years later and I still see those images, as if time had stopped. Below are the last memories that I left there with my life in his native village in Cisjordanii. Move before my eyes in slow motion, like a film on video. Return to me without interruption. I would like to erase them when there's the first picture, but I can not stop this movie. When the door slams, it's too late, nothing can stop now, I need to see everything again, because I still try to understand: how he did it? Did it slip zdołałabym to, if I understand? Coming up in my direction. This is my brother, Hussein, in working clothes, old jeans and a T-shirt. Takes me and says: "Hi, how are you?" with a smile on his lips. Peacefully chewing grass and smiles all the time: "I'll take care of you. ... That smile says it will take care of me, that I was not expecting. And so I smile, wanting to thank him, I do not dare utter a word.
- You have a big belly, what?
I bend my head, ashamed to look at him. I bow my head even lower, chin touches my knees.
- You have here spot. Especially położyłaś henna?
- No, put henna on your hair, I did not do it on purpose.
- You did it deliberately to hide it.
I look at underwear, you just flushed, my hands tremble. And this is the last picture, accurate and transparent manner. The underwear and my trembling hands. The last words that I hear from his mouth, they sound:
- "You did This intent to conceal it. "
He did not say nothing more, I had always bowed his head in shame, a little reassured that they do not ask me further questions. I suddenly felt something cold, something that comes down on my head. And immediately I was wearing a fire. I realized that the fire, and then accelerates video, images are moving at a furious pace. I'm starting to run barefoot in the garden, hands, hit the hair, I scream, I feel a fluttering dress themselves. Does the fire was also my dress? "I smell oil, run, bottom of the dress does not allow me to make big steps. He leads me, the horror, moving instinctively, just as far away from the courtyard. I'm running towards the garden, because there is no other way out of here. But I almost do not remember what happened afterwards. I only know that I'm all on fire and howling. How I managed to slip away? Did he run after me? Or do you wait until the fall, to quietly watch as the smoke? With difficulty, I climbed the wall surrounding the garden, and then I found out I do not know, either in the garden, neighbors, or on the street. There were some women, it seems to me that two, so it had to be a street, and struck me. The covers of head scarves, I guess. Dragged me to the village fountain, and suddenly the water fell on me, and I still Breach of fear. I heard that these women are screaming, but I've not seen anything. I still had lowered his head on his chest, I felt that poured cold water on me, which took forever, and I cried, because the cold water burned me terribly. I was curled up, I felt a smell of roasted meat, smoke. I had to pass out. Not much seen. I see still some scattered images, noises, I was in my father's van. But this is not my father. I hear the voices of women crying over me. "Poor", "poor" ... They comfort me. I feel the shocks the car on the road. I hear the trembling. Then again, nothing, and then the sound of a moving car and the voices of women. I burn still, as if he was still on my fire. I can not lift her head, I can not move or the body, or hands, I'm all on fire, still on fire ... gasoline stink, I do not understand the audio engine, the lament of those women, I do not know where to take me. When I open my eyes a bit, I see only a piece of my dress and skin. It is black and stinks. Still burning, though no longer on my fire. But despite this I'm burning. The thoughts still run, all in flames. Just die. That's good. Maybe I am already dead. Finally, the end.
"die"
find myself in a hospital bed, curled up under the sheets like a dog. There is some nurse and breaks with my dress. Pulls maliciously material overwhelms me suffering. Almost nothing I can see my beard stuck to the chest, I can not pick up. Hands also I am not able to move. I have a pain in the head, shoulders, back and chest. Nasty smell. This nurse is so maligned, that when you enter the room, I feel a paralyzing fear. Do not speak to me. Comes to pull me pieces of my skin, put a compress and leaves. If she could kill me, would do it, I'm sure. I am a poor wench, if I were burned. Apparently, you deserve it. I'm not married, and I'm pregnant. Well, I know what I mean.
darkness. Coma. How much time, night and day ..? Nobody wants to touch me, no one takes me there, I do not get anything to eat and drink, everyone is waiting, when I die. And so I would like to die, so ashamed that I am still alive. And so much suffering. It was not me I move, this bad woman turns to me, to pluck more pieces of leather. Nothing more. I would like oil to suppress it a little scary smoking, I would like someone took off with my towel, so that fresh air made me a bit cold. There's a doctor. I saw legs in trousers and a white blouse. Say something, but I did not understand. And still comes the bad woman. I can move his legs, I use them from time to time to lift the sheet. Makes my back hurt, my sides hurt. I sleep with a beard glued permanently to the chest. With his head bowed, like when I appeared on fire.
My hands are strange, a little staggered on both sides and paralyzed. Apparently they are in place, but I do not serve for anything. Yes I would love to scratch, tear off the skin itself, rather just not have to suffer. They force me to get up. I'm going with this nurse. My eyes hurt. I see my legs, hanging on both sides of the hands, tiles. I hate this woman. This leads me to the bathroom and takes a hose to wash me. He says that such a terrible stink, that he wants her to vomit. Stink. I cry and I stand there like a filthy garbage, as disgusting rot, which is poured a bucket of cold water. As a pile in the toilet. Starts a reservoir and is the end. Suffering. Water torn my skin, I scream, cry, beg, my blood flows to the feet. She tells me to stand upright. He delivered a strong jet of water ice pieces of black leather, scraps of dresses burnt, disgusting garbage, which congregate in the corner of the cab. Clearly feel rot, burned and smoked flesh. The nurse set up a mask and occasionally emerges from the bathroom, cursing me, and coughing.
I wake in her disgust, I should die like a dog, but away from it. So why not end with me? I'm going back to bed, burning and freezing at the same time. She throws me a towel, would not see me anymore. Croak - says her eyesight. Croak, you are thrown away. There is my father with his cane. He is furious, pounding it on the floor, wants to know who I'm pregnant, who had brought me here, how it all took place. He has red eyes. Cries an old man, but still I'm afraid, and his, and his staff, I am not able to answer questions. I want to sleep or die, or to wake up. My father was here, but it is not. But it was not a dream in my head still ringing:
- "Speak!"
I managed to raise a little, almost sitting, which allows you to not feel the sheets przylepionych arms, head pillow supports me . Nothing gives me relief, but through the open door I can even see what is happening in the corridor. I hear someone, I notice bare feet, long black dress, a small figure, such as mine, a slim, almost skinny. This is not a nurse. This is my mother. Her two braids buttered with olive oil, black shawl, is a funny face, raised the nose coming down over his eyebrows, like a bird zero. I'm afraid of her. He sits on a stool, abdomen holds a black bag. I begin to sob, sniff, wiping tears with a handkerchief, shaking his head. Cries of grief and shame. Weeping for himself and his family. In her eyes I see hate. Asks me, pressing the bag to his chest. Well I know this bag reminds me of home. Always takes it with you when you go out, going to town or going to the field. She puts her bread, a plastic bottle with water and sometimes milk. I'm afraid, but less than in the presence of his father, as usual. The father may kill me, she did not. No words, just wyjękuje sentences, I whisper.
- Listen, my daughter .... I'll never be able to take you back to the house in such a state can no longer live at home, do you seen yourself?
I can not see.
- You are burned. Shame fell on the entire family. Now I can not bring you anymore. Tell me, how did it happen that you became pregnant? With whom?
- It Faiez. I do not know the names of his father.
- Faiez? Our Neighbor?
And again begins to cry and push the folded handkerchief to her eyes as if trying to stick it in your mind.
- Where have you done it? Where?
- In the field.
twisting, biting your lip and cries even more.
- Listen, my daughter, listen, I would love for you to die, it will be better, as you will die. Your brother is young, if not die, he will have trouble.
- police arrived to see the whole family. With the entire family. Your father, your brother, your mother and your brother in law, with the whole family. If not you die, your brother will also have trouble with the police.
I guess she took the glass out of the bag, because around me there is nothing. Neither the table by the bed or other furniture. No, not seen him looking in the bag, she took the glass of the window sill, a glass of the hospital. But I did not notice, but it filled.
probably poured something to her when I cried out of shame, the suffering, of fear. I cried with so many reasons, with head bowed and eyes closed.
never forget that a large glass full to the brim, with a transparent fluid in the middle, looking like water.
- Drink it and your brother will have no trouble. So it will be better, better for you, better for me, it's better for your brother.
I cried. Me too. I remember the tears running down my cheeks burn, the chin, along the neck and tore my skin.
I was not able to raise their hands. She put my hands on his head and raised it a bit, following the party-held for her glasses. So far, no one gave me nothing to drink. Approached this big glass to my mouth. I wanted to soak in it, although the lip, so I wanted to drink. I tried to lift his chin, but I failed.
suddenly entered the room doctor and mother jumped. He took a glass of rapid motion, put it brutally in the window and shouted very loudly, "No!"
saw as the liquid gushed after the windowsill. Sailed along the glass, clear, like water. The doctor took her mother's arm and led of the room. I still looked at the glass, wypiłabym even from the floor, wylizałabym language like a dog. I wanted to drink, I wanted as much to quench thirst which die.
- You're lucky that I came at the right time. First, your father, and now a mother! Nobody in your family will not enter more here!
- You were lucky ... I do not want to see anyone in your family!
- My Assad's brother, would like to see his brother, he is nice.
I do not know what I said. Acting strangely, in my head was spinning everything to me. Whether the mother was telling me about the police that my brother will have trouble? Why should he, after all, is Hussein ignited the fire for me? The cup was put me death. On the edge of the window was still visible stain. Mother wanted me dead, I am well. But I was lucky, he said the doctor, because I almost drank this invisible poison. I felt liberated, as if odczarował me someone from death, though the doctor drove her in a second. My mother was an excellent mother, the best of mothers, performed his duty, bring me death. That would be better for me. There was no need to save me from the fire and bring such suffering here and let me die slowly, I finally freed myself from the embarrassment and the whole family.
came my brother, three or four days later. I will never forget the transparent, plastic net, I saw in her orange and banana. Since its arrival at the hospital, nothing I did not eat nor drank. Sam could not, moreover, no one wanted to help me. Even the doctor did not dare to do it. I realized that left me so that I died, there was no need to interfere in my story. In the eyes of all those people was to blame. I shared the fate of all those women who have stained the honor of men. Myto me only because I terribly cuchnęłam not there to heal me. Kept me here, because it was the hospital where I had to die and no more problems przysparzać my parents and the whole village.
Hussein poorly done its job, let me run out with the fire.
Assad did not ask me questions. He was afraid and wanted to get back as quickly as possible to the village.
- I'll be back through the field, so nobody saw me. If parents knew that I came to see you, I have a lot of trouble.
I wanted to come, but I was restless, so when he bent over me. I saw in his eyes, that my cause burns in him a feeling of disgust. No one, not even he is not interested, the extent to which I suffered because of this skin is żłobiła, rot, dripped, devouring me slowly like a snake venom, the whole upper part of my body, my skull devoid of hair, shoulders, arms, back, breast. We cried. Can I cried because I knew that I could see him one last time? Can I cried because I so much wanted to see his children? Everybody waited until his wife was born. I learned much later that she had two boys. Probably the entire family admired and congratulated her.
I could not eat fruit. Alone, without help, I was not able to and the bag disappeared. I will never saw my family. The last picture of my mother is the one when you hold a glass filled with poison. And his father - how furiously pounding his cane on the floor. And his brother with a bag of fruit. In the background, at the very bottom of my suffering, yet I tried to understand why I did not see anything, when my head appeared the fire. Beside me was a bottle of gasoline, but it was blocked stopper. Not noticed that after it reached Hussein. I had lowered his head when he said that "to take care of me," and for a few seconds, I felt saved, zmylona his smile and that dope, he calmly chewed in the mouth. In fact, he wanted to earn my trust, do not want to risk that he can flee. Everything discussed the previous day with my parents. But how did the fire? the heat of the furnace? "I did not notice anything. Did he used matches, since it happened so fast? lying next to me is always a box matches, but I did not notice anything. So the lighter in his pocket ... As soon as I felt cold liquid on her hair, stood in the flames. Yes I would love to know why I did not notice anything.
night when I lie flat on the bed, living through a nightmare without end. I find myself in total darkness around me I see curtains, window disappeared. Suddenly a strange pain, like a knife thrust in the abdomen, legs begin to tremble ... probably start to die. I try a little lift, but I'm not in the state. My arms and hands are still stiff, two foul wounds that refuse to obey me. No one beside me no, I'm alone, so who stuck the knife into my stomach?
I feel something strange between the thighs. I bend one leg, then the other, looking for foot, trying to rid itself of that something which scares me. At the beginning I do not quite matter that I am born. Macam feet in the darkness. Quite unwittingly pushes the child himself, slowly, on the sheet. Then stop moving, finished effort. Legs and I feel I'm approaching the infant, on each side. A little moves. I hold my breath. How came so quickly? Hitting with a knife in the stomach and is already here? I had to think sleep is impossible, the child did not come from me so suddenly, without notice. I dream to a nightmare.
not dreaming, because I feel it there, between his knees, the skin of my thighs. The legs are burned, they feel everything thoroughly, thighs, calves and feet-jni. I do not dare to move, then gently lift the foot and, if it were a hand, touch ... tiny little head and hands moving. I guess I had to scream. I do not recall. The doctor entered the room, he reveals the curtains, but I still remain in darkness. On the outside had to be night. I saw only a light in the hallway, his streak flowed through the open door. The doctor leaned over, pulled the sheets and took the child, even without showing it to me. Already have nothing between their legs. Someone hides curtain. I do not remember anything more. Maybe fainted, I slept very long, I do not know. The next day, and during the next days I'm sure of one thing, I do not have a child in the abdomen.
did not know whether it is dead or alive, nobody I talked about it, and I did not dare to ask the poor nurse, then what they did with this child. Let me forgive it, I was not able to give him a normal life. I knew that I was born, but even he could not see. Do not put it in my arms, I did not know whether it's a boy or a girl. At this point, I was not a mother, but a shred man sentenced to death. The strongest was a shame.
doctor told me later that I was born in the seventh month of the tiny baby that is alive and is in a completely different place. I listened very carefully to what he said to me, my ears burned sprawiały me terrible pain. The entire top of my body was a terrible pain, I walked into a state of coma półczuwania, not realizing how much had passed days and nights. Everyone had hoped that eventually die, and not wait for anything else.
I also thought that God would not let me die quickly enough. Nights were mistaken in the days in the same nightmare and in rare moments of consciousness I had only one obsession: to break a nail that stinking, rotting skin, which devours my body. Unfortunately, the hands would not listen to me. One day someone came into the room, in the middle of this nightmare. The more I sensed the presence of someone, than I saw it. Some woman's hand moved as shadow just in front of my face without touching it. A woman's voice with a funny accent said to me in Arabic:
said "yes", does not believing in it, so I was terribly wrong in this bed where I lay exposed to the contempt of others. I did not know how you can help me, especially one who could do it. Drive me back to my family? family did not want me. A woman, set on fire on the honor, it should burn completely. Help me in pain, or help me to die, it was the only solution. But I said 'yes' to the voice of the woman, although I did not know who she is.
My name Jacąueline. In those years I stayed in the Middle East, where he worked in the humanitarian organization "Earth people". I was running the hospitals in search of abandoned children, the disabled, in a state of malnutrition. Cooperated with the International Committee of the Red Cross and other organizations dealing with the Palestinians and Israel. So I had contact with both of these communities. I lived among them. And yet, after seven years of presence in the Middle East, I learned about the murder of young girls when their families complained that their encounter with a boy or a conversation with him. Sometimes they are suspected without the slightest reason and evidence, it's enough that someone says something. It happens that these girls really have an adventure with a boy in their communities is absolutely unthinkable, especially since the fathers decide on marriage. Arrived to me that ... I was told ... But until now, never met with a similar case. For the mind of man from the West the idea that parents and brothers can murder his own daughter or sister just because they fell in love, may seem like a paranoia, something in which it is impossible to believe, especially in those days. We women are liberated, voting, to decide about motherhood without a man .... But I stayed here for seven years, immediately because it believed, even if you've never seen anything like it, and the first time someone told me about this. It is necessary to form a climate of great confidence to even mention the taboo subject, especially since this should not be of interest to foreigners.
A friend of the woman decided to tell me about it. This is my good friend, a Christian, we see quite often, because it also deals with children. He is therefore in touch with many mothers, przyjeżdżającymi from every corner of the country, with towns and villages. In his department, it is a bit like moukhtar, that is invite these women for coffee or tea and learns from them what is happening in their villages and settlements. Here is an extremely important form of communication. Every day, drink coffee or tea and talking, it is a local custom, and for her it is an opportunity to detect cases of children in difficult circumstances. One day she heard the conversation rolling in a small group of women: "The village was a girl, which led to very bad, so parents tried to burn it. They say that it is now somewhere in the hospital. "
My role today, and will be so in subsequent years, the search and subsequent rescue Souad. This work long, hard and bumpy, is needed for her money, as usual. Our foundation is called Surgir because you have to appear at the right time to save these women, to break them of death. We work all over the world, both in Afghanistan and Morocco and Chad. Wherever we can intervene in a matter of urgency. Urgency that the matter is moving forward so slowly! It is known that in the world each year there are six thousand of honor crimes - for this horrific number lie still, all these suicides and accidents, which are not covered by statistics.
In some countries, women who have the courage to complain, closes in prisons in order to protect them. Some stay in them for over fifteen years! Because the only ones who can liberate them from there, they are their fathers and brothers, and so those who want to kill them. So when the father seeks release of his daughter, then of course the commander on it does not agree! From what I know, released one or two; were killed shortly afterwards.
in Jordan, and this is just one example, there is a law that every murder, every violation of the common law must be punished with an appropriate sentence. But next to this law, there are two tiny paragraphs, 97 and 98, they specify that the judge will be lenient to men who committed the crime of honor. The penalty for such an act provides for between six months to two years imprisonment. Condemned, often regarded as the real heroes, mostly not even that are serving the sentence in its entirety. Association Local lawyers are fighting for positive change in the code, already corrected a number of articles, but not paragraphs 97 and 98 We work on site with associations of women who have created programs to prevent violence and help women - victims of that violence in their countries. It's a long and arduous work, impede her ardent opponents of the changes ... However, step by step, things are moving forward. Women in Iran succeeded in winning changes in civil law. Women in the Middle East learned that in their countries have laws which directly concern them and give them certain rights. The parliaments of these countries resolved (not without a fight) and some items were changed. Slowly, gradually the authorities of some countries recognize that such crimes occur in them. Drawn up by official statistics in the reports of the Commission on Human Rights in Pakistan. Formal medical missions of many countries shows the number of diagnosed cases in the Middle East, and local associations initiate investigations in cases of violence and carry out work on historical and current rations to sustain and cultivate these archaic customs.
Is it in Pakistan, where there has been a significant number of deaths of women and girls and throughout the Middle East, Turkey, the most important thing is to eliminate those habits, and applied blindly passed to future generations. In the recent past such authorities as King Hussein and Prince Hassan have spoken publicly against those crimes, saying that "these are not crimes of honor, but dishonor." A lot of the Imams and Christian clergy continually explains that the "crime of honor" is something completely unknown in the Koran or the Gospels. So either we do not lose courage nor perseverance. Foundation Surgir learned to knock to all doors, even at the risk that the sows snaps before our noses. Because sometimes it works.
end (They were trimmed-selected excerpts from my "Souad - burned alive," - by the same Souad to which reading and I strongly encourage anyone who still has no idea what kind of world is alive .. .
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