Josh, Sarah and Shane in Iraqi Kurdistan
During the last four and a half months of heart-wrenching separation from Shane and Josh, my mind often goes back to memories of prison. I see the three of us coming out bleary-eyed into the courtyard after three months of complete isolation, laying out a ‘feast’ of whatever food we had been able to store up to mark a holiday, or huddled under a blanket on the cold, stone floor marveling at the sight of snow falling around us.
Sometimes I see Shane and Josh’s eyes in my mind flashing with fear or strained with anxiety; other times I see them brimming with tears or beaming with love. I remember the day of our arrest when we linked arms and begged the border police not to tear us apart. “Please,” we begged, “let us stay together.”
Those of you that have been following my writing and appearances in the media since my release have heard me say a lot about how much I admire Shane and Josh as professionals, peace activists and global citizens. You have heard me say again and again that Shane and Josh don’t deserve to be in prison one minute longer that I was and never deserved to be there in the first place. When we went hiking in Iraqi Kurdistan we didn’t know that we were near an unmarked border with Iran. We were living, working and traveling in the region in order to increase our knowledge of its diverse cultures, lend a hand through our humanitarian work and promote more understanding in our communities back home.
Our misfortune on that fateful day of July 31st, 2009, has resulted in a huge misunderstanding. This is the antithesis of what Shane, Josh and I came to the Middle East to do. Josh and Shane agree with me that Iran is a great country with an ancient culture to be admired and learned from. In the arc of history Persia, dating back to 4000 BC, has demonstrated incredible resilience and strength. Iranian people have a reason to be proud as the progenitors of one of the world’s oldest civilizations.
Shane, Josh and I never intended to go anywhere near Iran and we certainly meant no harm to its people or their leaders or by hiking near its northwestern border with Iraq. None of us had ever studied Persian history, politics or Farsi until we found ourselves in prison. Shane and I both decided to study Arabic as part of a commitment to engage constructively with Middle Eastern peoples, in hopes of countering the destructive toll taken by a decade of war led by our country. Josh shares these values; that’s why he traveled thousands of miles to visit us in Damascus, Syria.
Sometimes my mind finds its way back to even more distant memories. The first time I visited Josh in Oregon we went hiking in the woods behind the environmental school, Aprovecho, where he taught and ran internships. A simple hike turned out to be a gauntlet of trials. First, I sank knee-deep into the mud and Josh pulled me out. Then, I was terrified to find that a tick had bored its way into the skin on my arm. Josh calmly and patiently instructed me how to burn it off. I also remember Josh arriving wind-blown at our apartment in Damascus after six months of teaching and traveling. He was so eager to immerse himself in our new world, he even signed up for an Arabic class at Damascus University that he was going to start upon our return from Kurdistan!
Then there was the time in Yemen that I suddenly got ill. Shane went to hail a taxi while the hotel manager and some guests wrapped me in wool blankets to try to stop my shivering. A few minutes later we were stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic and the cab couldn’t move an inch. Shane got out of the car and started yelling at the top of his lungs in Arabic, “Oh people. My dear fiancée is sick! Please my people, move to the side of the road so that we can pass and deliver her safely to the hospital! Thank you so much, oh people!” All of the cars moved to the side of the road. Even though my teeth were chattering and I was shaking with fever I couldn’t help smiling and thanking God for bringing this incredible man into my life!
Sarah talks to media at one year protest in San Francisco
I’ve never wanted anything as badly as I want Shane and Josh to be free. I want it even more than I wanted my own freedom those 14 long months at Evin. I want to see Shane walk off into the sunset with his arms wrapped around his younger sisters. I want to see their fathers’ smiles light up the room and tears of joy stream down their mothers’ faces. I want Josh’s brother to get his heart back. I want their grandparents to rest assured that their children’s children are finally free.
The problems of our world today are much bigger than we are as individuals. Shane, Josh and I will never blame any one individual for what is happening to us or for the toll it has taken on our families. The political problems that divide our countries are structural and have been accumulating for decades. I believe that each and every one of us has the opportunity to make a small dent in the formidable odds working against global peace. I want to beseech Iran’s religious and political leaders to set Shane and Josh free so that they can help make a difference. Give them a chance to do the good work in the world that they were destined to do.
I remember the moment in the prison courtyard when Josh asked me if he could call me his ‘sister’ and the moment that Shane asked me to be his partner for life. Last week, the engagement ring that Shane wove for me in prison from a shirt thread finally snapped. At first I was upset and angry at the loss, but then I told myself it was a sign of new things to come.
Sunday 6 February 2011
New Things to Come: A Testimony to the Innocence of Josh Fattal and Shane Bauer by Sarah Shourd
