Broken Land! Nuzhat Shahzadi

 

Mount Rainier was spectacular under the soft-fog drenched hot sun. It looked translucent, seemed to have emerged from the Ocean-bosom and sparkled against the azure tints of the cloudless sky. The large ferry cut through the foaming emerald waves. We were headed towards Bainbridge, Seattle. Crossing in the ferry is the best way to reach this picturesque tiny city entrapped by water. 

Photo 1: Mount  Rainier from the Ferry

Mount Rainier is considered as the most dangerous volcano in the world due to its high probability of eruption in the near future. 

As we waited in line to board the ferry, my attention was captured by a festivity-convoy in the adjacent lane. Everyone looked solidly-serious seniors, pleasant, chatty and funny–– in an interesting way.

“Hi are you attending a wedding?” I craned my neck out of the car window. I spotted the flowers in the car ahead.

“Yes! My daughter is getting married! We’ll be staying for the weekend . . .” The excited mother gave me more details about the venue, her lawyer daughter. 

“It’s an expensive affair. Ask me!” she volunteered. I introduced her to my niece (our driver) and her parents . . .

I was going to Bainbridge for a lunch meeting with my book editor. I wanted to see her in person and her island. She told me about the quaint city with its welcoming ambience, the trails in the woods populated by ancient, exceptional trees, and wild flowers. 

We reached in 35 minutes. I inhaled the familiar water-smell––sweet, sort of, uniquely brewed in salty-sandy-“sea-weedy” stuff. (I have lived and worked in island countries for years). I waltzed through it . . .

Photo 2: Bainbridge Island view

My other attraction was the “Nidoto Nai Yoni (Let it Not Happen Again)” exclusion Memorial–– it’s a reminder of what happened on 30 March, 1942. The walls of the Memorial honor the names of all 276 Japanese persons and Japanese Americans who were forcibly taken away from their homes from Bainbridge and exiled in internment/concentration camps during World War II. It also celebrates how this island-community defended their Japanese friends and welcomed them back. 120,000 Japanese Americans faced a similar fate under President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s Executive Order 9066 and Civilian Exclusion Order No.1.

The tragedies in Pearl Harbor . . . 9/11 . . .  changed the world . . . Racism found stronger grounds, weaponized with fiercer beliefs . . . fear of the unknown is in the human DNA?

Prejudice indisputably is in high-form in our current universe. People hesitate to talk about it, often. Denial is one way of coping––possibly, for being racially victimized is considered shameful?

In 2018, I was travelling from Brussels to Tubingen (Germany) by train. On the seat opposite from me was a stunning middle aged German woman. We smiled a few times and finally got to talking. She was divorced, bringing up two teenage daughters, a retail store employee. Her destination was an hour away so we chatted more. Though she stumbled over some words, sometimes, her English was quite okay. After learning that I lived in America, she opened up more. 

“I’m afraid for my daughters. Afghan refugees are crowding our cities,” she said at one point.

“What are you afraid of?” I was curious.

“These Afghan young men stare at us all the time. They will harm my girls, I think,” she confided. 

She possibly thought America was less prejudiced.

“Have they, so far done anything? Broken any laws?” I asked. She shook her head. 

“They have come from a different culture––this is all new to them. They’re trying to absorb so much. Have you given it a thought?” Now I had to reveal about my work as a UN humanitarian professional in Afghanistan and other places––I tried to explain the perils and pains of refugees (Asians, Africans, Latin Americans . . .).

She listened. I told her about the dusty, arid mountains of Herat, the villages torn by years of war and oppression. I tried to bring Afghanistan to her as the bullet train pierced through the unknown townships and forests . . . 

A few years ago, a Bengalee friend was visiting Scotland. She was welcomed with “go back to your country,” by a local passer-by.

. . . Recently, I was on my way from our local Giant-grocery store. My purchase was in the cart. I stopped to take a phone call as I walked through the huge car park. I was accosted by an older white man on a bi-cycle . . . initially I thought he was a store worker, came to retrieve my cart. 

“You’re not going to return the cart, right?” It was a strange assumption from a stranger who had no business in my business. 

In a few seconds, and exchanges I understood. From a distance he must have spotted me, a brown woman in a large hat, (people usually think that I am a Latina) and attempted to intimidate me. 

“Who are you?? It’s none of your business what I do or I don’t.” I pushed back––he backed away.

My friend on the phone was listening and assured me that I was asking for a bullet in my head. People have been shot for much less.

I am proud to be a brown woman with an attitude!

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Nuzhat may be contacted at: nuzhatshahzadi@gmail.com