Fatima's uncle was shot and killed, his wife had been wounded, and their home was ransacked by soldiers. “Before they left, they killed all our chickens.” A doctor who was with us looked at me and asked, “This is the freedom. In their Disneyland are there kids just like this?”Inte är det där blott ord som svävar runt i cyberrymden. Sådana små splitter sätter sig fast under huden, i medvetandet. Hos människor som tar sin mänsklighet på allvar. Som sysselsätter sig för att göra något litet för det stora: att värna mänsklig värdighet; som blickar in i en möjlig framtid utan kolonialt förtryck och rasistisk förnedring, in ”i den natt som slutgiltigt / ändrar sitt ljus utanför fönstren”.
Another young woman, Rana Obeidy, had been walking home in Baghdad with her brother two nights earlier. She assumed the soldiers had shot her and her brother because he was carrying a bottle of soda. She had a chest wound where a bullet had grazed her, but had struck her little brother and killed him. In another room, a small boy from Fallujah lay on his stomach. Shrapnel from a grenade thrown into his home by a US soldier had entered his body through his back and was implanted near his kidney. An operation had successfully removed the shrapnel, but his father had been killed by what his mother described as “the haphazard shooting of the Americans”. The boy, Amin, lay in his bed vacillating between crying with pain and playing with his toy car.
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