Wednesday, April 23, 2008

free association (part 21)


It has been a long time since I heard Elton John. Many of his songs were my favorite during some times in my life. Before about 2 weeks I found one of my old tape cassettes. I searched for the recorder and it was hard to find it. It was full of dust. You know, our whether, in Baghdad, is dusty. Any way I managed to play the tape. The sound was dusty too. But it was really nice to hear that song entitled "trains don’t stop here anymore" again. The electricity shut down suddenly and I was in darkness again. I searched for the candle which was supposed to be by my side. It was not. So it is time to sleep I said to myself. It was maybe about 9 pm, so I was not so sleepy. I managed to found my bed. In my bed I opened my eyes widely and all I saw was complete darkness. It doesn’t differ whether you shut your eyes or open them. I took a deep breath. Nothing to worry about, I said to my self. And then my mind asked me: where is your train now? well...I cannot remember what I thought at that moment. Where did my train of thought go at that moment. But now, am all alone, at this night, tired of my long walk in the evening, I will let my train, or let it be trains, to go roaring, listen to my free association:

Well, when Elton John singed that song telling us that train doesn’t stop there anymore, when I first heard it, It was in a period when my train didn't really stop anywhere. My train was marching slowly, in a routine way. It losted its colors. Dishes served in it were tastless. It quite it enthusiastic roaring habit. I heard that song first when I was maybe in my second year of rotation. I was in Hilla/ Babylon doing the surgical part of my rotation which was really difficult. It was in 2003, soon after the war. There was no Iraqi army nor Iraqi police. Civil people were having firearms. They still do, but to a less extent. Some of them managed to solve their problems with each others by firearms. And our emergency ward was full of bullet injuries. Police wasn’t there, so people brought their relatives shouting and running and I still can find traces of those voices in my memory screaming: WHERE IS THE DOCTOR! I used to go running and see things that I don’t want bother you to talk about…
Well all this long intro is just to say that during those tough days my love for that lady suddenly stopped. I was no longer eager to see her. She felt that. I told her we should stop seeing each other. She went. I didn’t feel anything. I was numb. Maybe as part of some kind of post traumatic disorder. Then I got that habit of taking a tab of 5 or 10 mg of diazepam before my emergency unit duty. I cannot say that it helped me or not. But I think those tabs drove me to neglect my trains more. And againg my trains were marching in more tastless routine and they didn’t stop in any station till I end my rotation in surgery and started my rotation in medicine. I stopped that diazepam habit. One of my trains suddenly stopped next to a young lady, a very religious one, a very beautiful one, and well educated. She was caring for her mother who was admitted in our ward. I noticed that she was reading one of Shakespeare plays in English having an old dictionary by her side and isolated from all others. Treating me with a marked respect she leads me to stop my train next to her, go out of my train, and look into her face as if I never saw a woman for that last 8 months (the period of my silent continuous routine journey in my numb train). I treated her with great respect. I respect all other patients, but the color of the respect ticket I gave her was of a different color. I stopped listening to Elton John and shifted to Phil Collins and his album TESTIFY. And my nights get more beautiful thinking about her. She was so serious. I felt that she will never think about me as a friend. She was dealing me as the resident doctor who cares for her mother at evening and night when the senior, whom she prefers due to his experience, was not there. Seniors work from morning to afternoon only. Till one day I told her that the new drug her mother needs is in the hospital pharmacy in the first floor (the medicine ward was in the third floor). It was late in afternoon and the worker responsible for bringing the drug was having his lunch. I told her if she wants to go by herself I would accompany her if she likes. She agreed. I cannot remember exactly how I break for her the news that I like her but am sure I was so cautious and so polite and was saying that little by little with great respect. I think I told her that I was thinking about her sometimes and that I found her special. But I think I end telling her if she thinks that we can be friends. Friendship between a male and a female in our culture doesn’t differ too much from love. It is either you are not friends or you are husband and wife. That something in between means love that is forbidden. And sex hides secretly between the lines. She was….well…I don’t want to theorize about what she felt deep inside her, but she said something like: my culture and values prohibit me from responding to your request. She said something vague as I can remember. But she let me feel her annoyance from continuing to walk together. I remember I asked her finally this question: ok N, I will leave you now, but please can I ask you a question? What is the meaning of the word TESTIFY? She said she was not sure about its meaning. It ends that afternoon in that way. I thought she will treat me badly that evening. I listened to Phil Collins again and again having her in my mind. As I went to the ward that day she came to me as never before, she was active, smiling, and told me: hi Dr sami, how are you….I looked for the word TESTIFY in my dictionary and it means doing a test, like testing….ok?...
I thanked her so much. I was really happy she was not angry at me.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

i was reading The House of the Dead by Dostoevsky last night, random clickings from news sites led me to your blog; its sincere and very human, but as if from some non-fiction writer, like books i've read,i don't know what i'm trying to say, but i like how you write :)

saminkie said...

Thank you dear for your encouraging words. After reading great works such us those of Dosteovsky, someone hardly finds other works interesting. You like my post after reading Dosteovsky and am proud of that. Thank you.