Students Teach Important Lessons
By Raudah Mohd Yunus
July/Aug 2024
I have a very good friend who lives in Gaza. She and her daughter once stayed in Malaysia for a few years because her husband was a student at a university in Kuala Lumpur. I was also in Malaysia during those years, and we became friends.
On Oct. 14, 2023, as the current scourge of genocidal mass killings began to ravage Gaza, I became desperate to know their condition. I sent her a message: “Sister, please tell me how you are. I am worried.” Her reply was, “Thank God. I’m still alive. We are moving to Khan Younis.” At first, Khan Younis was dubbed a “safe zone,” so I was relieved to hear that she and her family were moving there. At least they would be safe for the time being. We communicated with each other until Nov. 21, 2023.
During December 2023, news broke that Israel had begun shelling Khan Younis after destroying much of Gaza. I sent her another message on Dec. 2, 2023. To my utter dismay, there was no reply — my message was not even delivered. Subsequent attempts to reach her went futile. I then tried to message her daughter’s number — no reply. To this day, I don’t know if they’re alive or dead. Perhaps I’ll never find out.
A Personal Darkness Descends
As the days went by, I watched in horror at the Israeli apartheid regime’s continuous brutality and arrogance as it mass-murdered Palestinian children, women and men. Seismic images and recordings of mothers holding their dead babies, children screaming in pain and wounded all over, children being operated on without anesthesia and frantic men searching for family members under the rubble have become daily scenes for the global audience.
At one point I stopped watching or reading the news, not because I stopped caring, but because it was too much to bear and the news was taking a toll on my mental health. I tried to channel my frustration by talking with academic and activist friends from other countries and organizing online talks and discussions to solidify support for the Palestinian cause.
But each day the same questions kept coming back: “What can I really do? What is it that I can best do?” I had once been outspoken about the Rohingya genocide and humanitarian crisis in Myanmar, the political suppression and human rights abuses in the Arab world (particularly Egypt) and other calamities that hit people across the globe — all stemming from political and economic injustice.
I had visited Palestinian refugee camps in Lebanon in 2007 to learn about the Sabra and Shatila massacre that took the lives of more than 3,000 Palestinians and Lebanese. Later in 2019, I toured the Apartheid Museum in Johannesburg to explore that country’s history of colonial and segregationist oppression.
But this time I felt paralyzed while witnessing the atrocities and cruelties inflicted upon the Palestinians, especially those in Gaza. Somewhere deep in my heart was a sense of despair. My inner voice whispered that dismantling the Israeli regime is impossible and that fighting the superpowers supporting Israel is out of the question. But I nevertheless forced myself to continue my work, but with great pessimism. Every moment felt like torture, and all I saw was darkness.
Columbia University Students Reignite my Optimism
In such moments of despair, on April 17 New York Columbia University’s students began pitching tents on their campus, after which 108 students were arrested. What initially seemed like an isolated, sporadic event quickly transformed into a global movement. This time, I watched in awe as the encampment movement grew in speed, momentum and courage. My sense of hope was rejuvenated, and my dying spirit was energized.
It is obvious now that the tide will continue to grow and that suppression will only cause more resistance. As I cry for the brave souls who were handcuffed, arrested, threatened and expelled with each episode of oppression and violence by the police that appears in the news, my conviction only grows stronger that we — every one of us — need to speak the truth to power no matter what and despite the consequences.
Scenes across American universities now resemble those in Egypt. I lived in Alexandria for six years during the early 2000s and witnessed countless peaceful student demonstrations demanding greater democracy, transparency and better governance, only to be met with suppression and outright brutality by the police and special forces.
Some of those protesters were my friends and classmates, who were among the most brilliant students on campus. They had nothing but love for their country and concern for justice. If there’s anything I learned from these unfolding events and my past experiences, it’s that the youth are an incredible source of strength for our community, our biggest asset and greatest hope.
What Does the Future Hold?
The spirit of justice among the young protesters at American universities and their struggle for a better world have set examples for us to emulate. It made me realize that we must invest in the young people and that these students are actually our teachers, because they’re showing us how to be truly transformative and that there is no difference between theory and practice. These students are giving us real lessons that cannot be conveyed in the classroom setting even by the smartest professors. This is what education is all about.
To the police force assaulting and harassing our young people and the cowardly authorities hiding in their ivory towers, where is our freedom of expression? Will there be any accountability for these unwarranted arrests and brutality against the innocent?
Raudah Mohd Yunus is a public health expert. She is currently a postdoctoral researcher at the Medical College of Wisconsin. This article originally appeared on www.newagebd.net on May 21, 2024. It was copyedited, with the author’s permission, to fit with Islamic Horizons’ style.
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