The Nation (Nairobi)
OPINION
August 25, 2006
Posted to the web August 25, 2006
Salim Lone
Nairobi
That August day in Baghdad in 2003, something was tugging at the corner of my eyes, and somewhere deeper as well, but just as insistently, something else was preventing me from turning around.
I was standing in the rubble of Canal Hotel, the United Nations headquarters which had been devastated by a huge terrorist bomb. I was exhausted from all the media interviews, and trying to make conversation with Ronnie Stokes, a colleague in the front courtyard. But then I could take it no more and abruptly turned around.
In front of me lay 12 neatly draped white sheets. I found myself going breathless, and in the panic, did not know what to feel, think or say. Were the sheets covering people? Then I saw one foot, very pale and white, sticking out from under a sheet. I found my voice.
"Who is that?" I whispered.
"Rick Hooper," said Ronnie..
Rick Hooper. There were not many people I loved more in the UN. He was a 40-year-old American who was a key figure in the UN regarding the Arab world, an idealist contributing far beyond his age and rank. He had lived and worked in Palestine for many years and was deeply passionate about ending the occupations that even many Muslim leaders chose to ignore. [He had the knowledge and practical insights that enabled him to propose ever so small steps that might build towards peace.]. [He had recently moved to UN headquarters to work as principal adviser to Sir Kieran Prendergast, the former British High Commissioner to Kenya who was now the UN's Under-Secretary-General for Political Affairs.]
When Iraq was occupied in 2003, Rick and I were among those approached to go help there. Neither of us was interested, believing that this was an American show and the UN would be humiliatingly irrelevant there. But once I changed my mind, I tried to persuade him to do the same.
My happiest moment in Iraq was when I heard he was coming. I thought he might be able to help Sergio Vieira de Mello, our UN chief there, make a difference in influencing the US.
There was another person I had wanted come to Iraq, Reham al Farra. An extra-ordinarily brilliant young Jordanian woman, who at 26, had become a columnist for a major newspaper, she now worked in the News Division that I headed at UN headquarters in New York.
My deputy spokesman in Baghdad, Hamid Abduljaber, another remarkable UN colleague, was going off for two weeks, and I moved heaven and earth to get Reham to be his temporary replacement.
She got to Amman on August 18 but called to say there was absolutely no room on the UN flight to Baghdad. I literally forced her onto the plane. Her fate needed her in Baghdad, just as centuries earlier, the servant had an appointment in Samara, also in Iraq.
And then there was someone I had nothing to do with getting to Iraq: Abona. You could call him a waiter, I guess. A youngish man with a slight limp, he made sure we got the tea or coffee we needed in the cafeteria or in our offices.
A person of immense dignity, his face was also etched with the pain of Iraq, but he was soft-spoken and did not say much. He refused to take any tips, even if you insisted. I hardly knew him. And yet the news of his death hit me harder than anyone else's on that day.
Who live and who die in catastrophes is always a mystery. That day, I escaped death by happenstance. My boss, UN Special Representative Sergio Vieira de Mello, asked me to urgently make some changes to a statement I had prepared for him on the killing by American troops of Mazen Dana, a Reuters cameraman. That meant that I was not able to attend a crucial meeting in his office about the mounting death toll of civilians. Six of the seven people in that meeting died on the spot; the seventh, Gil Loescher, lost both legs and a lot more - but not his spirit.
Twenty two of my friends died that day. Every one of them was opposed to the American occupation and tried to convince the Americans that the only way out of the Iraqi disaster was a quick end to the occupation. But the terrorists did not care to know who they killed as long as they could hit at the UN and the US.
Some days are emblazoned in world consciousness. 9/11 is easily the most famous in history now. 7/7 in London is also remembered world-wide. Nairobi's 7/8 death toll is outranked only by 9/11, but these killings are commemorated only in Kenya.
Similarly, the anniversary of the August 19 terror attack against the UN gets little international coverage, despite its being an organisation that belongs to the world. There are no dates even internationally mentioned to recall massacres of the weak by the strong states at all, however.
August 19 marks the most traumatic moment in UN history, not merely because of the unprecedented viciousness of the attack on it but because of the lack of a strong Iraqi, Arab and Muslim outcry over the atrocity. The organisation, even as it continues to play a vital role on so many political and humanitarian fronts, has still not recovered its footing in the Islamic world, where it is seen as a mouthpiece for the US.
Many of the world's most dangerous crises concern the Muslim world where the UN needs to play its full role. The one way to ensure that the 22 wonderful and brilliant people did not die in vain three years ago is to make Muslims see the world body as their friend and not merely as a surrogate presence for the United States.
Link,http://allafrica.com/stories/200608250432.html, consultado a 25 de Agosto de 2006.
OPINION
August 25, 2006
Posted to the web August 25, 2006
Salim Lone
Nairobi
That August day in Baghdad in 2003, something was tugging at the corner of my eyes, and somewhere deeper as well, but just as insistently, something else was preventing me from turning around.
I was standing in the rubble of Canal Hotel, the United Nations headquarters which had been devastated by a huge terrorist bomb. I was exhausted from all the media interviews, and trying to make conversation with Ronnie Stokes, a colleague in the front courtyard. But then I could take it no more and abruptly turned around.
In front of me lay 12 neatly draped white sheets. I found myself going breathless, and in the panic, did not know what to feel, think or say. Were the sheets covering people? Then I saw one foot, very pale and white, sticking out from under a sheet. I found my voice.
"Who is that?" I whispered.
"Rick Hooper," said Ronnie..
Rick Hooper. There were not many people I loved more in the UN. He was a 40-year-old American who was a key figure in the UN regarding the Arab world, an idealist contributing far beyond his age and rank. He had lived and worked in Palestine for many years and was deeply passionate about ending the occupations that even many Muslim leaders chose to ignore. [He had the knowledge and practical insights that enabled him to propose ever so small steps that might build towards peace.]. [He had recently moved to UN headquarters to work as principal adviser to Sir Kieran Prendergast, the former British High Commissioner to Kenya who was now the UN's Under-Secretary-General for Political Affairs.]
When Iraq was occupied in 2003, Rick and I were among those approached to go help there. Neither of us was interested, believing that this was an American show and the UN would be humiliatingly irrelevant there. But once I changed my mind, I tried to persuade him to do the same.
My happiest moment in Iraq was when I heard he was coming. I thought he might be able to help Sergio Vieira de Mello, our UN chief there, make a difference in influencing the US.
There was another person I had wanted come to Iraq, Reham al Farra. An extra-ordinarily brilliant young Jordanian woman, who at 26, had become a columnist for a major newspaper, she now worked in the News Division that I headed at UN headquarters in New York.
My deputy spokesman in Baghdad, Hamid Abduljaber, another remarkable UN colleague, was going off for two weeks, and I moved heaven and earth to get Reham to be his temporary replacement.
She got to Amman on August 18 but called to say there was absolutely no room on the UN flight to Baghdad. I literally forced her onto the plane. Her fate needed her in Baghdad, just as centuries earlier, the servant had an appointment in Samara, also in Iraq.
And then there was someone I had nothing to do with getting to Iraq: Abona. You could call him a waiter, I guess. A youngish man with a slight limp, he made sure we got the tea or coffee we needed in the cafeteria or in our offices.
A person of immense dignity, his face was also etched with the pain of Iraq, but he was soft-spoken and did not say much. He refused to take any tips, even if you insisted. I hardly knew him. And yet the news of his death hit me harder than anyone else's on that day.
Who live and who die in catastrophes is always a mystery. That day, I escaped death by happenstance. My boss, UN Special Representative Sergio Vieira de Mello, asked me to urgently make some changes to a statement I had prepared for him on the killing by American troops of Mazen Dana, a Reuters cameraman. That meant that I was not able to attend a crucial meeting in his office about the mounting death toll of civilians. Six of the seven people in that meeting died on the spot; the seventh, Gil Loescher, lost both legs and a lot more - but not his spirit.
Twenty two of my friends died that day. Every one of them was opposed to the American occupation and tried to convince the Americans that the only way out of the Iraqi disaster was a quick end to the occupation. But the terrorists did not care to know who they killed as long as they could hit at the UN and the US.
Some days are emblazoned in world consciousness. 9/11 is easily the most famous in history now. 7/7 in London is also remembered world-wide. Nairobi's 7/8 death toll is outranked only by 9/11, but these killings are commemorated only in Kenya.
Similarly, the anniversary of the August 19 terror attack against the UN gets little international coverage, despite its being an organisation that belongs to the world. There are no dates even internationally mentioned to recall massacres of the weak by the strong states at all, however.
August 19 marks the most traumatic moment in UN history, not merely because of the unprecedented viciousness of the attack on it but because of the lack of a strong Iraqi, Arab and Muslim outcry over the atrocity. The organisation, even as it continues to play a vital role on so many political and humanitarian fronts, has still not recovered its footing in the Islamic world, where it is seen as a mouthpiece for the US.
Many of the world's most dangerous crises concern the Muslim world where the UN needs to play its full role. The one way to ensure that the 22 wonderful and brilliant people did not die in vain three years ago is to make Muslims see the world body as their friend and not merely as a surrogate presence for the United States.
Link,http://allafrica.com/stories/200608250432.html, consultado a 25 de Agosto de 2006.
