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Christmas: A Hatless, Beardless Santa Singing the Blues in Louisiana!

Ghazal Omid - 12/27/2005

Watching images on TV of Christmas shopping in barely back-to-normal and still dark and unsafe at night Louisiana, I saw one family who bought only one ornament for their lonely, bare, undecorated tree saying they can’t buy anything because they have neither the money to buy nor a place to put it.

Driving in the first snow of the year in the city of Vancouver, I decided to leave the car behind and take the underground metro. In the underground station I saw a hatless, beardless Santa playing the blues on a saxophone. As the trains approached, his image projected on the windows and triggered memories of hearing the lonely Santa I had seen singing on the street in Louisiana a couple of nights before. The trains were traveling from right to left and for some reason it was as if time traveled backwards. I mentally traveled on a time train to the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. I remembered the disturbing images of people stranded on rooftops, on the street, thirsty, tired, homeless, confused, sad, overwhelmed; dying on the streets as the cries of babies seemed to echo all the way to the heaven.

I grabbed the next train but the memories lay heavy on my heart. I couldn’t take it and soon found myself getting off to take a tour in a nearby park. The images kept coming as I walked in the snowy park and I remembered when Katrina happened. I sent a letter to the victims and tried every possible means to reach a warm hand to them, as did millions. But, now that everyone is gone and all the media has been redirected to new subjects, people are mostly busy with their own Christmas. I find myself wondering why I feel closer to them than ever. Perhaps it is because we have so much in common.

People have asked me why I feel so close to them? I never experienced a hurricane personally but I survived eight years in a war zone and in my mind a hurricane is very much like a war. War is perhaps even more tragic because it is manmade and preventable and seemed endless, no matter how much we prayed. When I had to slaughter my bird pets and run away to save my life, I felt just like the hurricane survivors who had to leave their beloved pets behind to save their own lives.

During the war, people left the elderly behind as some did during the hurricane. People die in war as they do in hurricanes. When we ran for our lives, we had an empty feeling; not knowing if we would survive or die in the next minute or tomorrow, just as people did during and after the hurricane. We lost everything and so did they. When war ended, although grateful to be alive, we didn’t have much to celebrate for or with. I am a kindred soul because although I have not seen the waves or water rising to my neck, I have seen forces just as destructive created by humans.

From eight years of war, I learned a valuable lesson and that is: A life is a life and is no more or no less valuable, regardless of origin and whether he or she is black, white, colored, oriental or anything in between.

As I wandered in the park, I realized that I don’t have any plans to celebrate anything this year, nor did I last year or for many years before. No Christmas, no Eid (Muslims celebration), No Norooz (Persian New Year) and no any other occasion. My family is not dead but because of what I have said and done in standing up for my life and the lives of others, they count me as dead. So, I have more in common with the hurricane survivors than most US residents. I know how they feel, especially during the holidays.

I am not here to earn sympathy for myself. As the song says, “..I will survive..” I simply want to let them know that just because we (Muslims) pray differently, it does not mean we forget your pain. We might speak different languages, come from different backgrounds and cultures but that doesn’t mean your pain is not ours. After all, we are all part of the same human family. This is the lesson a cabdriver in Holland thought me many years ago.

I wanted to wish them a Merry Christmas on behalf of everyone who wants to write and say the same but didn’t know where or how to start. We love them and think of them in our hearts and minds and will burn a candle in the honor of those who didn’t make it to see this Christmas and the New Year. Let us hope and pray our future is better than our past and perhaps we all will find a reason to celebrate.