Haider, an Iraqi at war

It is at noon on Sunday and as usual Haider is there on the sidewalk at the intersection of West Michigan Avenue and Park Street. He stands for peace downtown Kalamazoo with twenty other human rights activists. He is talking to a Palestinian woman; her name is Shadia Kanaan, she is a member of the peace group Women in Black. On his left side men and women in their seventies are holding signs calling for peace. They are members of the anti-war group KNOW (Kalamazoo Non-Violent Opponents of War). Haider is there too, full of hopes: “I join them almost every Sunday to protest against the war in Iraq. This is my country, I have to be here standing with them. It gives them strength and motivation.”
Haider Alsaedy is a 30-year-old Iraqi who has been living in the United States for sixteen years. He has wide dark brown eyes. He has a light of hope in his look that becomes a flame of passion when he deals with the suffering and pain that so many people have to go through. “My friends back home call me Abu Krar; it means “when you go forward you never go behind”, I am that person who wants to make projects to help people.”
In high school at age seventeen, Haider liked to help. The teacher spoke so fast. The students couldn’t understand his explanations. “In our country it is hard to tell the teacher to slow down; if you offend the teacher he can beat you.” Haider and his friends had to find a solution. “I will do it, I will tell the teacher.” Haider remembers the scene. His tone changes. He now speaks with the fearful voice of a student: “Sir.” The teacher answered with an overbearing voice: “What do you want.” “Can you slow down?” The teacher was mad: “Who told you I have to slow down?” The whole class remained silent. “Just me.” People do not support you when you need them. “But me I knew I would do something in my life, something for people who need you.”
Haider dedicates his life to others. I met him on Monday at night in the Union downtown. As I arrive he stands up and welcomes me warmly with great enthusiasm. Documents are spread on the table next to his drink. He hands them to me with excitement: “This project is the project of my life. This is what I’m going to achieve.” On a piece of paper, he had drawn the layout of a house. This is the private school he will build in his home city, Basra. Haider, his eyes wide opened, talks with delight about his project: “Back in my country in the spring of 2006, I saw a woman holding a child who was about to die. I wanted to help her. But she told me it was her pain: “There are one thousand children dying, why would you help my child?” I thought about that all the time.” This memory obsessed him. He had to do something. All he owned was a land in Basra. After few days he found the idea…his relief. He would raise orphans on his acre of land. Hider can already see the children running around and helping him in the land. The children need this refuge. “My dream of having my children, my house with a small bridge on the river that goes through my land is gone. My life is gone.” He won’t have his own family but will instead adopt fifty to one hundred children. Haider still works hard on this project. It makes one month he puts his ideas together and he now tries to see who can help him to achieve it.
Iraqi Health Now is Haider’s pride, his achievement. He created this non-profit organization in 2006. “I wish you’re gonna help. Look around at the people who are having fancy food.” Haider remains silent and a flame of rage burns in his eyes: “There are people dying!” Haider has a deep and serious look. “When I went back for the first time to Iraq in 2006, I visited my nephew Dhergam who is a doctor.” He went to see the hospital where Dhergam works. He couldn’t stand seeing people suffering and dying. Haider remembers. He is looking down, his head bent. There was obviously not enough equipment. He had in front of him the unbearable vision of a hospital that cannot cure sick persons appropriately. In the United States, Haider works in Stryker, a company that build beds. In the hospital, Haider felt overwhelmed and powerless. He threw some words that could probably release his sudden distress: “I will send you hospital beds for free, it will help.” But it wouldn’t help: “Haider, we do not need them. We are out of medicines, we use the same syringe for several patients, we have no blood bags, no antibiotics.” Like his mother, Haider feels deeply in his soul the suffering of other people: “My mum always wore black outfits because everyday people are in pain. I feel this pain too.” That’s why Haider takes action.
In Haider’s apartment you can not walk. “My small place is full of medicines, of heroes and Thai Kwando trophies.” His heroes support him and push Abu Krar forward. “Mascowih inspired me a lot. He became a famous and talented writer in spite of his handicap. His tongue twisted. In class, he couldn’t say a sentence without twisting; the other students laughed at him. But he did not give up. He tried, tried again, again and again.” Haider wants to help Iraqi; he is convinced he will achieve it. Thai Kwando taught him to persevere. All the medicines stocked in his living-room are Haider’s greatest achievement at that time. Haider’s life is dedicated to others. “I fully believe what the prophet said: “Human kind is like one body. If one of the organs gets injured, the all body feels pain.” Iraqi Health Now is not Haider’s last achievement: “I have too many plans in mind, and I do them step by step.”