Mohammed at Iraq the Model has written a stunning post addressed to Cindy Sheehan. Here is a small excerpt, which I hope will convince you to read the whole thing:
Your face doesn’t look strange to me at all; I see it everyday on endless numbers of Iraqi women who were struck by losses like yours.
Our fellow country men and women were buried alive, cut to pieces and thrown in acid pools and some were fed to the wild dogs while those who were lucky enough ran away to live like strangers and the Iraqi mother was left to grieve one son buried in an unfound grave and another one living far away who she might not get to see again.
We did nothing to deserve all that suffering, well except for a dream we had; a dream of living like normal people do.
We cried out of joy the day your son and his comrades freed us from the hands of the devil and we went to the streets not believing that the nightmare is over.
We practiced our freedom first by kicking and burning the statues and portraits of the hateful idol who stole 35 years from the life of a nation.
For the first time air smelled that beautiful, that was the smell of freedom.
The mothers went to break the bars of cells looking for the ones they lost 5, 12 or 20 years ago and other women went to dig the land with their bare hand searching for a few bones they can hold in their arms after they couldn’t hold them when they belonged to a living person.
I recall seeing a woman on TV two years ago, she was digging through the dirt with her hands. There was no definite grave in there as the whole place was one large grave but she seemed willing to dig the whole place looking for her two brothers who disappeared from earth 24 years ago when they were dragged from their colleges to a chamber of hell.
Her tears mixed with the dirt of the grave and there were journalists asking her about what her brothers did wrong and she was screaming “I don’t know, I don’t know. They were only college students. They didn’t murder anyone, they didn’t steal, and they didn’t hurt anyone in their lives. All I want to know is the place of their grave”.
Why was this woman chosen to lose her dear ones? Why you? Why did a million women have to go through the same pain?
Cindy Sheehan has met the President; I haven’t.
But I have met Mohammed; Cindy Sheehan hasn’t.
I humbly suggest that Cindy Sheehan would benefit far more from one meeting with Mohammed than she would from a second meeting with President Bush.