Nahlah Ayed speaks volumes of bravery, disappointment, and courage in the Middle East, while staying true to her fundamental ethics of truth. What really gets the job done, is the real life stories of struggle and despair she witnesses along the way. Her descriptions of the sorrow and displacement faced by the inhabitants of these desert lands are powerful. She captures the insecurity of the region, while staying true to her own beliefs.
At one point, Nahlah finds herself at the site of a mass grave, where folks are sifting through the piles of bones and decay, trying to find remains of loved ones. She notices a woman praying, for hours undisturbed by the commotion around her. Nahlah tells us how she debated whether or not to try to talk to the woman, but decides against it. Nahlah’s respectable morals kick in, and she leaves the woman to her own.
I didn’t feel there was anything substantially missing from this book. Nahlah stays true to her belief that people are the story, always. She doesn’t get caught up in opinionated political jargon or religious fanaticism. She does however, tell us the harsh reality by being brutally honest. She tells us how the Shiites and Sunnis have been deadlocked in a deep religious schism that cuts bloody borders through cities. She backs it up with interviews of indifferent atheists who suffer from displacement caused by these conflicts, to radicals on either end. She also interviews people on every side of the religious spectrum.
If there was something that could be useful to the indifferent reader, it would be the history of the region. Nahlah doesn’t really explain the history of the Israeli occupations of Palestinian land, or the six-day war in 1967. Events like this played a huge role in the future of the area, and even today remain as a blemishes on human rights in the Middle East. The role that dictatorships in Iran, Syria, and Iraq are explained a bit, but not as much as it could have been. Nahlah failed to mention the brutal, hellish conditions people lived with everyday under those regimes of terror.
If we all knew the history of the Middle East, we could all understand what’s going on now. For example, Nahlah could have mentioned that Iran was basically under a totalitarian regime, with policies similar to those of Nazi Germany, and how America tried to fix things. Nahlah could have explained this in a way like: “If humans don’t learn from history, they’re doomed to repeat it.” If we had a little history lesson about it, then that would sum up what’s going on almost perfectly.
Journalists can take Nahlah’s main point to heart, and tell stories about the people. The people are the story, always. Every journalist could at least take away that point from this book. The most important part about this book is that one rule Nahlah sticks by. She reports on how the people are handling the current situation, whether it be political, religious, or downright violent. By telling the stories about who is truly affected by these conflicts goes a long way into letting us gaze down into the gun barrel, or peer into eyes of a tortured young man. Nahlah’s intent from the very start of her journey proves that she wanted to stay true to her people, and tell it how they experience everything, from their point of view. She did that by going right to the front line, and sometimes beyond. Her courage and inquisitive nature give us a glimpse into this fascinating, yet dangerous land, far different from our own.
I couldn’t help but think of the documentary Ghosts of Abu Ghraib, the film based on the torture scandal by United States Marines in an Iraqi prison in Baghdad. The documentary was the first glimpse I had had into the war in the Middle East. I remember being disturbed, and turning off the movie before it ended. The film had shown me a dark, hidden part of war, the prisoners. During A Thousand Farewells, the very mention of torture would make me cringe. I’d think back to those horrible images on that screen, and think: That really happens to people. That’s about as real as it can get.
To be honest, the book reminded me of something. It reminded me of how lucky I am to live in Canada. While reading the book, I was in the Middle East, Nahlah took me there. She guided me through Damascus, and down to Cairo. I could see the sea of sand, and vast cities built on stone. I could hear the cries of the homeless, and the desperate pleas for the confusion to stop. I took away a new and fresh appreciation for the good life. A life away from universal war, poverty, and hunger.
Now, when I see somebody from the Middle East, I stop and wonder if they had escaped a life full of fear, for something better.
The Undertow 