It`s a strange thing, to walk the grounds of a military
installation at night—even more so in a warzone. In recent years and months, we
have seen much in terms of conflict. Iran, Syria, Iraq, Afghanistan. Turmoil
has ebbed and flowed as is the nature of such things, but at night, there is an
odd sense of stillness that falls. A quietness—at least some nights—that when looking
at the sky, the few drifts of clouds, the stars, the moon, you get a sense that
you could almost be anywhere. When we look up, each of us sees the same thing
no matter where we are; the same sky, the constellations, and the moon perhaps
a little different in size or position, but we could be anywhere in the world
and share the same view. Looking down... now that’s when our perspective
changes. The ground we tread on, the borders we create to separate ourselves
and the people we surround ourselves with. How is it that our perspective and the
lives we lead can change so dramatically merely by altering the angle of our
heads, despite sharing the same sky?
Sometimes at night, I will head to the roof and look
out over the flight line, and the two feet thick concrete walls and homes that
lay beyond them. A matter of only inches separates the world I walk in from the
much different one on the other side of that wall. Though both treading the
same ground, the same dirt and sand, the people who live outside these walls
live very different lives than mine. The population of this middle eastern country
has a perspective looking in at me, which is most assuredly a polar opposite of
mine looking out. And yet we share the same sky. We are made of the same
elements, oxygen, carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, calcium, phosphorus—heart, lungs,
brain, and maybe most importantly, a soul. Despite everything we have in
common, the world on this side of the wall is so very, very different from the other.
When it gets quiet on nights like this and I find myself on the roof, I wonder
if this might be the moment my ticket gets punched. That lull, the false sense
of security created by a day or two of peace might precede a sudden attack. A vehicle-borne
improvised explosive device (VBIED) or a rocket attack perhaps. Lord knows they’ve
come close. Just a few days ago, I found myself diving down beside a wheel well
of a bus as a C-RAM took down multiple rockets directly before me. Watching the
shrapnel hit the ground in the spot I would have been standing was what many might
call a “come to Jesus moment.” I think perhaps a ‘change your underwear moment’
might be more sufficient.
Silver lining—I didn`t drop my breakfast. Priorities,
you understand. But it got me to thinking as I looked out over the wall tonight
at the mountains and the small, faint lights of fires and rundown homes of the
indigenous population. If we tread the same ground and share the same sky, why
are we so different? What about our geographical heritage can determine such a dichotomy
of world viewpoint? The answer, as always, is religion. There is something to
be said for territory and the right to it, history is full of battles fought
over a mere few feet of land. But by far, the greatest divide we experience in this
world is due to religion. Those rockets they send over the walls, and the
patients we receive, are a direct result of a difference in opinion about whose
god, and which practice should be observed. The two worlds apart, separated by
mere inches, are a result of two nations disagreeing on who has the right practice
of religion. As a medic, I have chosen not to see sex, race, or creed. These
things will not prevent me from doing my job, from doing no harm to another. At
least not unless I am forced to defend myself. But it frustrates me at times to
be in a foreign land, caring for a people that are being subjected to horrors, purely
because they have found common ground with us. They do business on U.S. bases,
break bread with our leaders and hope to see a day that war will no longer govern
these lands, and persecution will not come at the hands of their own people. People
with nothing more than a difference with us. This might be a simplification
of the conflict here, but the atrocities committed upon women and children in
these lands will remain with me forever. As a Fire Fighter, I have seen much. People
have died beneath my hands as I have tried everything to save their life. I have
bagged body parts, washed brain matter from the sidewalk, and seen families
torn apart by drug addiction. But none of that has had the effect upon me that
seeing the devastating physical, psychological, and spiritual ruin performed upon
their fellow countrymen that occurs here. I can see anything. I can take
it. What I see with my own two eyes, will never be as painful as what I feel
for the people of this nation and the torment I feel for the damage and scars
that cannot be healed by hands.
One day, I hope that we will all find common ground in
which land, religion, politics, or economics will no longer be a cause for war.
No longer a reason to stand on either side of a concrete divide that will never
be as big as the divide between hearts and minds. There will be no one to fire
rockets over those walls. No one who wishes to harm their own people. On that
day, we will all realize that we share the same sky and the same earth beneath
it. On that day, I will be happy to be here, sitting on this roof, not fearing
for a rocket to land with my name on it. Then, perhaps we will tear down those
walls ourselves. But—when will then be now? Soon, I hope.
Such an incredible perspective on this time! Thank you for sharing!
ReplyDeleteGlad you enjoyed the read! Thank`s for stopping by.
DeleteI love that we are able to look at the same sky 💕
ReplyDeleteNow stay safe and come home to your wife and baby soon.