`I Was Wrong!`

Ken Joseph Jr.

How do you admit you were wrong? What do you do when you realize those you
were defending in fact did not want your defense and wanted something
completely different from you and from the world?
>
> This is my story. It will probably upset everybody - those with whom I
have fought for peace all my life and those for whom the decision for war
seems always to come just a bit too fast.
>
> I am an Assyrian. I was born and raised in Japan where I am the second
generation in ministry after my Father came to Japan in answer to General
Douglas Macarthur's call for 10,000 young people to help rebuild Japan
following the Second World War.
>
> As a minister and due to my personal convictions I have always been
against war for any and all reasons. It was precisely this moral conviction
that led me to do all I could to stop the current war in Iraq.
>
> From participating in demonstrations against the war in Japan to strongly
opposing it on my radio program, on Television and in regular columns I did
my best to stand against what I thought to be an unjust war against an
innocent people - in fact my people.
>
> As an Assyrian I was told the story of our people from a young age. How
my grandparents had escaped the great Assyrian Holocaust in 1917 settling
finally in Chicago.
>
> Currently there are approximately six million Assyrians - approximately
2.5 million in Iraq and the rest scattered in the Assyrian Diaspora across
the world.
>
> Without a country and rights even in our native land it has been the
prayer of generations that the Assyrian Nation will one day be restored and
the people of the once great Assyrian Empire will once again be home.
>
> Many trace the current problems in the Middle East in many ways to the
dramatic exodus of up to 70% of the Christian population from the middle
east since the coming of Khomeini to Iran and the increase in Islamic
Fundamentalism which had heretofore had large Christian, Jewish and other
communities. It was precisely the Christians in particular who ran much of
the local economy in many countries of the middle east and their departure
contributed much to the current economic collapse.
>
> It was with that feeling, together with supplies for our Church and family
that I went to Iraq to do all I could to help make a difference.
>
> The feeling as I crossed the border was exhilarating - `home at last` I
thought as I would for the first time visit the land of my forefathers.
>
> The kindness of the border guards when they learned I was Assyrian, the
taxis, the people on the street it was like being back `home` after a long
absence.
>
> Now I finally seemed to know myself! The laid back, relaxed atmosphere,
the kindness to strangers, the food, the smells, the language all seemed to
trigger a long lost memory somewhere in my deepest DNA.
>
> The first order of business was to attend Church. It was here where my
morals were raked over the coals and I was first forced to examine them in
the harsh light of reality.
>
> Following a beautiful `Peace Service` to welcome the Peace Activists in
which even the children participated we moved to the next room to have a
simple meal.
>
> Sitting next to me was an older man who carefully began to sound me out.
Apparently feeling the freedom to talk in the midst of the mingling crowd he
suddenly turned to me and said `There is something you should know.` `What`
I asked surprised at the sudden comment.
>
> `We didn't want to be here tonight`. he continued. `When the Priest asked
us to gather for a Peace Service we said we didn't want to come`. He said.
>
> `What do you mean` I inquired, confused. `We didn't want to come because
we don't want peace` he replied.
>
> `What in the world do you mean?` I asked. `How could you not want peace?`
`We don't want peace. We want the war to come` he continued.
>
> What in the world are you talking about? I blurted back.
>
> That was the beginning of a strange odyssey that deeply shattered my
convictions and moral base but at the same time gave me hope for my people
and in fact hope for the world.
>
> Beginning that night and continuing on in the private homes of relatives
with whom I stayed little by little the scales began to come off my eyes.
>
> I had not realized it but began to understand that all foreigners in Iraq
are subject to 24 hour surveillance by government `minders` who arrange all
interviews, visits and contact with ordinary Iraqis. Through some fluke
either by my invitation as a Religious person and or my family connection I
was not subject to any government `minders` at any time throughout my stay
in Iraq.
>
> As far as I can tell I was the only person including the Media, Human
Shields and others in Iraq without a Government `minder` there to guard.
>
> What emerged was something so awful that it is difficult even now to write
about it. Discussing with the head of our tribe what I should do as I
wanted to stay in Baghdad with our people during their time of trial I was
told that I could most help the Assyrian cause by going out and telling the
story to the outside world.
>
> Simply put, those living in Iraq, the common, regular people are in a
living nightmare. From the terror that would come across the faces of my
family at a unknown visitor, telephone call, knock at the door I began to
realize the horror they lived with every day.
>
> Over and over I questioned them `Why could you want war? Why could any
human being desire war?`They're answer was quiet and measured. `Look at our
lives!`We are living like animals. No food, no car, no telephone, no job and
most of all no hope.`
>
> I would marvel as my family went around their daily routine as normal as
if everything was normal. Baghdad was completely serene without even a hint
of war. Father would get up, have his breakfast and go off to work. The
children to school, the old people - ten in the household to their daily
chores.
>
> `You can not imagine what it is to live with war for 20, 30 years. We have
to keep up our routine or we would lose our minds`
>
> Then I began to see around me those who had lost their minds. It seemed in
every other household there was one or more people who in any other society
would be in a Mental Hospital and the ever present picture of a family
member killed in one of the many wars.
>
> Having been born and raised in Japan where in spite of 50 years of
democracy it still retains vestiges of the 400 year old police state I
quickly began to catch the subtle nuances of a full blown, modern police
state in its most terrible form.
>
> I wept with family members as I shared their pain and with great
difficulty and deep soul searching began little by little to understand
their desire for war to finally rid them of the nightmare they were living
in.
>
> The terrible price paid in simple, down to earth ways - the family member
with a son who just screams all the time, another family member who lost his
wife who left unable to cope anymore, the family member going to a daily job
with nothing to do, the family member with a son lost to the war, a husband
lost to alcoholism the daily, difficult to perceive slow death of people who
have lost all hope.
>
> The pictures of Sadaam Hussein whom people hailed in the beginning with
great hope were everywhere. Sadaam Hussein with his hand outstretched.
Sadaam Hussein firing his rifle. Sadaam Hussein in his Arab Headdress.
Sadaam Hussein in his classic 30 year old picture - one or more of these
four pictures seemed to be everywhere on walls, in the middle of the road,
in homes, as statues, on the money - he was everywhere!
>
> All seeing, all knowing, all encompassing.
>
> `Life is hell. We have no hope. But everything will be ok once the war is
over.` The bizarre desire for a war that would rid them of the hopelessness
was at best hard to understand.
>
> `Look at it this way. No matter how bad it is we will not all die. We have
hoped for some other way but nothing has worked. 12 years ago it went almost
all the way but failed. We cannot wait anymore. We want the war and we want
it now`
>
> Coming back to family members and telling them of progress in the talks at
the United Nations on working some sort of compromise with Iraq I was
welcomed not with joy but anger. `No, there is no other way! We want the
war! It is the only way he will get out of our lives`
>
> Once again going back to my Japanese roots I began to understand. The
stories I had heard from older Japanese of how in a strange way they had
welcomed the sight of the American bombers in the skies over Japan.
>
> Of course nobody wanted to be bombed but the first sight of the American
B29 Bombers signaled to them that the war was coming to an end. An end was
in sight. There would be terrible destruction. They might very well die but
finally in a tragic way there was finally hope.
>
> Then I began to feel so terrible. Here I had been demonstrating against
the war thinking I had been doing it for the very people I was here now with
and yet I had not ever bothered to ask them what they wanted. What they
needed. What they wanted me to do for them
>
> It was clear now what I should do. I began to talk to other so called
`human shields`. Have you asked the people here what they want? Have you
talked to regular people, away from your `minder` and asked them what they
want?
>
> I was shocked at the response. `We don't need to do that. We know what
they want.` was the usual reply before a minder stepped up to check who I
was.
>
> With tears streaming down my face in my bed in a tiny house in Baghdad
crowded in with 10 other of my own flesh and blood, all exhausted after
another day of not living but existing without hope, exhausted in the daily
struggle simply to not die I had to say to myself `I was wrong`.
>
> How dare I claim to speak for those for whom I had never asked what they
wanted!
>
> Then I began a strange journey to do all I could while I could still
remain to as asked by our tribe let the world know of the true situation in
Iraq. Carefully and with great risk, not just for me but most of all for
those who told their story and opened up their homes for the camera I did my
best to tape their plight as honestly and simply as I could. Whether I
could get that precious tape out of the country was a different story.
>
> Wanting to make sure I was not simply getting the feelings of a long
oppressed minority - the Assyrians - I spoke to dozens of people. What I was
not prepared for was the sheer terror they felt at speaking out. Over and
over again I would be told `We would be killed for speaking like this` and
finding out that they would only speak in a private home or where they were
absolutely sure through the introduction of another Iraqi that I was not
being attended by a minder.
>
> From a former member of the Army to a person working with the police to
taxi drivers to store owners to mothers to government officials without
exception when allowed to speak freely the message was the same - `Please
bring on the war. We are ready. We have suffered long enough. We may lose
our lives but some of us will survive and for our children's sake please,
end our misery.`
>
> On the final day for the first time I saw the signs of war. For the first
time sandbags began appearing at various government buildings but the
solders putting them up and then later standing within the small circle they
created gave a clear message they could not dare speak.
>
> They hated it. They despised it. It was their job and they made clear in
the way they worked, in the way they stood to the common people watching
that they were on their side and would not fight.
>
> Near the end of my time a family member brought the word that guns had
just been provided to the members of the Baath Party and for the first time
we saw the small but growing signs of war.
>
> But what of their feelings towards the United States and Britain? Those
feelings are clearly mixed. They have no love for the British or the
Americans but they trust them.
>
> `We are not afraid of the American bombing. They will bomb carefully and
not purposely target the people. What we are afraid of is Saddam Hussein and
what he and the Baath Party will do when the war begins. But even then we
want the war. It is the only way to escape our hell. Please tell them to
hurry. We have been through war so many times, but this time it will give us
hope`.
>
> The final call for help came at the most unexpected place - the border.
Sadly, and sent off by the crying members of my family I left. Things were
changing by the hour - the normally $100 ride from Baghdad to Amman was
first $300 then $500 and by nightfall $1,000.
>
> As we came to the border we began the routine paperwork and then the
search of our vehicle. Everything was going well until suddenly the border
guard asked if I had any money. We had been carefully instructed to make
sure we only carried $300 when we returned so I began to open up the pouch
that carried my passport and money stuffed in my shorts.
>
> Suddenly the guard began to pat me down. `Oh, no`! I thought. It`s all
over`. We had been told of what happened if you got caught with videotape, a
cellular telephone or any kind of electronic equipment that had not been
declared.
>
> A trip back to Baghdad, a likely appearance before a judge, in some cases
24-48 hour holding and more.
>
> He immediately found the first videotape stuffed in my pocket and took it
out. I could see the expression of terror on our driver as he stifled a
scream.
>
> The guard shook his head as he reached into my pocket and took out another
tape and then from pocket after pocket began to take out tape after tape,
cellular telephone, computer camera - all the wrong things.
>
> We all stood there in sheer terror - for a brief moment experiencing the
feeling that beginning with my precious family members every Iraqi feels not
for a moment but day and night, 24 hours a day, 365 days a year. That
terrible feeling that your life is not yours that its fate rests in someone
else's hands that simply by the whim of the moment they can determine.
>
> For one born free a terrifying feeling if but for an instant.
>
> As the guard slowly laid out the precious video tape on the desk we all
waited in silent terror for the word to be taken back to Baghdad and the
beginning of the nightmare.
>
> Suddenly he laid the last videotape down and looked up. His face is
frozen in my memory but it was to me the look of sadness, anger and then a
final look of quiet satisfaction as he clinically shook his head and quietly
without a word handed all the precious videotape - the cry of those without
a voice - to me.
>
> He didn't have to say a word. I had learned the language of the
imprisoned Iraqi. Forbidden to speak by sheer terror they use the one
language they have left - human kindness.
>
> As his hands slowly moved to give the tape over he said in his own way
what my Uncle had said, what the taxi driver had said, what the broken old
man had said, what the man in the restaurant had said, what the Army man had
said, what the man working for the police had said, what the old woman had
said, what the young girl had said - he said it for all of them in the one
last message as I crossed the border from tyranny to freedom . . .
>
> Please take these tapes and show them to the world. Please help us . . . .
and please hurry!
>
> Could we have done more? Could we have pushed just a bit harder for a
peaceful settlement? Probably. At the ed of the day, though there is only
one person who matters and we must speak for him or for her.
>
> Neither the Peace Activists nor the Iraqi Government speak for the people.
It is their voice and only their voice that counts and it is for them.
>
> Leaving Iraq my heart has grieved as I watch TV with person after person
speaking `for the Iraqi people`. It is time to let them, the precious, kind,
terror stricken people of Iraq speak for themselves. They deserve a voice
and their voice is united.
>
> Laying on the guillotine, with the blade about to fall their bravehearts
cry out `FREEDOM`! We dare not fail to answer their call!
>
>
> Ken Joseph Jr is a Assyrian, a Minister and was born and raised and
resides in Japan where he writes, speaks and directs Assyrianchristians.com
and is currently writing a book, his ninth, about his experience in Iraq.
>COPIED FROM > www.Assyrianchristians.com
>
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