Memorial, take II
It's happened again.
I remember ... about 6 months ago interestingly enough were the high school shootings scattered around the country.
It is interesting to compare my reactions then to my reactions now regarding the Virginia Tech Shooting.
I think there's something to be said for my Egypt/America transitioning process.
This time around, I read the article from the NY Times page and was genuinely upset and concerned that such a thing of such a scale would happen in one of our schools.
Last fall, all I could think about was (cynically, and in a slightly scorning tone of thought that comes from wishing it had not been my first reaction)
What a lucky country we are ... we stretch to touch two oceans yet we all stop when a handful of our students are killed at their schools. What a lucky people we are, that a few deaths in a few states far away are one of our greatest concerns right now.
(This sounds horrendously callous - I'm sorry if you are one of those for whom the victims were more than a name, geography, and a tally)
I was thinking about my school in Cairo, many of the students or teachers at which had been tortured, had their families killed, and their villages burned and NO BODY KNOWS what's going on.
I wrote
While certainly larger, more noticeable events have more influence in the general historical conscience, ... to overlook the small, minor injustices in favor of only large events is to treat the disease with tissues.
I'm not sure how much I stand by that wording, but I know what I mean.
Anyway, everyone else seemed be be finding meaningful the process of remembering those dead and their attackers. Those few dead. Meanwhile, 80% of a country is being quietly massacred. I kept these thoughts to myself.
Because everyone else was putting together this lovely memorial:
(I will put pictures here later. It's getting too late right now. But it's pictures of prayers hanging from trees.)
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At the memorial in the fall,
Noah read this poem.
It's his translation of an Old Kingdom Egyptian prayer
Hail to you,
Who are in your shrine in the high place,
near to the place of bones.
Foremost among the Westerners, called Father-to-Orphans and Guide-to-the-Lost,
We present to You our fallen;
they loved their families,
and were loved;
They laughed and walked and were
cut down in pain and fear.
Look after them,
O Guard-to-the-Dead,
and see them safely to
the distant West
where they may know
Peace and Comfort
Have mercy on their deeds
To them we say: New-Among-Ancestors,
dear fallen, hear that you are
missed and mourned.
Remember us who still live,
as we remember you.
For you, many wishes.
A thousand of bread and a thousand of toys
A thousand of beer and a thousand of joys
A thousand of ponies and a thousand bright boats
A thousand parades with a thousand floats
A thousand of kisses and a thousand of rest
A thousand warm beds for the thousand-times blessed
A thousand of loves and a thousand of tears
and of every good thing that you never had here
May you all ascend
and find loving arms
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