Assalammualaikum.
It has been two long years since I last poured my thoughts onto this blog. Life happened, as it often does, and amidst the chaos and routine, my writing took a back seat.
There's an undeniable pressure when you've been away for so long. You want the first words after a hiatus to be profound, impactful, and meaningful. Yet, the more I dwelled on this desire for a perfect return, the harder it became to take that initial step to start writing once again.
Hence I decided to just start and if there's one topic that deserves an immediate voice, it's the haunting atrocities and genocide being committed against the Palestinians. In the year 2023, it's disheartening that such acts persist while the world watches in silence.
I am baffled at how, in an era where even the smallest mistakes can go viral and result in swift consequences, a whole ethnic group is being subjected to violence without the intervention of the so-called world police. It just shouldn’t happen.
Some people say the Palestinians were born in the wrong land and into the wrong ethnic. I strongly disagree. Their resilience and determination to defend their homeland, even in the face of unspeakable atrocities, make them the most fitting inhabitants for that sacred soil. They are the chosen people. Not all of us possess the strength to endure such trials, let alone stand up against them.
I can't imagine how the doctors, nurses and paramedics can still work, when their mother, father, children, brothers, sisters, cousins, second cousins, bestfriends are dying front, behind, left and right.
I can't help but reflect on my own experiences in the COVID ICU, realizing how challenging it would be if my loved ones were at risk. If I were in their shoes, facing the threat of COVID in my own family while working in the ICU, I doubt I could maintain focus. Yet, these heroes continue to save lives, fully aware that the next patient coming through their door could be their own flesh and blood.
My connection to the plight of the Palestinians goes back to my A-Level days. Over the years, I became less vocal about it, perhaps thinking that feeling for them in my heart was enough. I find myself slightly embarrassed now, realising the importance of using my voice, no matter how small, to speak up for those who can't.
Watching videos of their suffering brings me to tears, and often, I can't even finish watching. The sense of helplessness and hopelessness creeps in.
I dare not even pray to be there with them even as a medical doctor because I am not even confident of my own capability in such troubled times. I am so used to “modern and equipped medicine” that I am not sure if I can function well there.
I've long procrastinated educating my Facebook friends on the Palestinian cause, grappling with the first sentence. My Facebook friends are made of many races and religions and I feel I can make bigger impact there than in my Instagram. But the first step is truly challenging.
I need to really sit down and think of my sentences.
Thank you for reading, and here's to breaking the silence.
Until next time.
-Because life is a test-
-AkMaR-
http://nur-akmar.blogspot.com
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