An Open Letter to the Media

In the 2004 film "Hotel Rwanda," which chronicles the Tutsi genocide perpetrated by the Hutu militias, Nick Nolte played the role of a UN Peacekeeper who was offered no assistance in ending the atrocities that he was witnessing. When he finally realized that help was not coming, he delivered the profoundly bitter line, "You're black. You're not even a n*****. You're an African." Watching the film in the states, I comforted myself that it isn't really like that. There are a thousand factors at play in circumstances like that. The reason that the UN didn't come couldn't-couldn't-be that the victims were Africans.

Between Christmas and the end of January, there were three terrorist attacks here in the RIM. While the attacks hardly called for UN Peacekeepers, there was another powerful body from outside of Mauritania that would come to play its role in the violence as it unfolded. The media.

Around Christmas, a family of French tourists was shot and killed, the perpetrators hunted and found some days later. After I heard about it, I logged onto my preferred news sources and found it as a headline in international news. And that is as it should be. This is a generally peaceful country, and this was a shocking and terrible act of hatred. It deserved to be reported.

Then, a few days later, there was an attack that went unreported altogether. I could not find it on my news sources of choice. In the north, about 200 kilometers east of Atar, a group of Mauritanian soldiers were ambushed and killed. This was not a senseless act of terrorism, this was an assault on the security forces of a Western-leaning Islamic Republic. This was an attack on an allie, and a highly unusual one. This does not happen in Mauritania any more than it happens in England. But I have a feeling that, had a militia killed a group of armed British soldiers outside of Manchester, we would have heard about it on the evening news.

Of the three failures of the media, the third is, I believe, the most egregious. I wrote earlier about the attack on the Israeli Embassy, in which my friend was caught in the crossfire and injured. My note was personal, and so I did not mention the injured Mauritanian civilians. In their professional accounts of the same incident, the Western media only reported one bystander injured, a French woman. They did not mention the other five Mauritanians who were shot.

After being in an often disregarded African nation for some months, I have developed a new respect for the words that Nolte's character was given in "Hotel Rwanda." Why is it that Westerners are worth reporting on? Why do we not even mention the Africans who are injured in the same attacks as Westerners? Why don't we ever hear about the innocents who are killed in Africa (unless they've already died by the thousand)? Is it really just because they're, well, African?

The Day Every Little Girl Dreams Of

Wedding Days are so beautiful. Beautiful clothing, beautiful locations, beautiful (usually bad tasting) food. The whole experience is just, well, beautiful.

For the guests.

The experience of the planners, on the other hand, is not one of tranquility and peace. The culmination may appear to be the joining of two loving people in the company of family and friends, a quiet and joyous celebration of unity. But really, how many people, on the day of that celebration, think "this is wonderful. I am marrying the most perfect person in the world for me, and the world has conspired to make this event exactly as it should be." And how many people instead think, "If the caterer screwed me, I will take a hit out on him, that son of a bitch, and damn, this [dress/suit] is hot, I can't wait to strip down, crap, was that thunder?" I'll take a stab at it and say more people are in the latter category.

With good cause. Weddings are expensive. They take a lot of planning. It's like a car, dozens of moving parts composed of still more moving parts, all of which must move in synchronicity, or the whole thing will be, at best, jumpy, or at worst, non-functional. I really don't look forward to the day when I will lay down thousands upon thousands of dollars to be uncomfortable, eat bad food, be gawked at, stressed out, hot... It doesn't seem like a great deal, is what I'm saying.

A friend of mine got married recently. A couple of days ago, in fact. I'd planned on attending the ceremony, which I always enjoy. "Isn't it beautiful," I like to think, "that I didn't have to plan a bit of this circus." But I never got word on when the actual wedding would be. "I'll call you to let you know," she told me the previous day. By the evening, I figured that it was postponed or I'd missed it. Then she called me, and confirmed that yes, I had missed it. But I have to admit, I didn't mind. I wasn't hurt that I wasn't there to witness my friend's nuptials. Why?

Because she wasn't either.

The bridegroom, a Mauritanian man, went to see the Imam. With him went an older friend of the bride, who would act as her surrogate father. The plan was that they would arrange the whole thing. They did better than expected, and when they returned home, my friend was married. No fuss, no muss.

There may be some radical elements out there reading this, feminists and the like, who will speak out against a system that lets two men arrange a marriage without the presence or witnessed consent of the woman who will be married off. I'll concede, it might be fairer if two women could arrange the same for a man who was not present. But rather than pick this beautiful event apart, let's take a moment to appreciate it for what it was.

My friends are married, and in the process, neither of them went broke, was uncomfortable, or was obligated to purchase and consume terrible food. Better still, only one of them even had to be present; the other was free to read, or work, or watch TV.

And that is a beautiful thing.

Why?

There was recently a terrorist attack in Nouakchott, the capital of Mauritania. A group of gunmen approached the Israeli embassy in the dead of night and opened fire. They achieved nothing, thankfully. As I understand it, no deaths were reported, only injuries. Among those injured was a friend of mine, a woman who was just leaving her friend's house next door to the embassy. She is okay, and after a handful of surgeries and a medevac to Paris, she is hoping to return to Mauritania to continue her work.

I want to tell you about this friend of mine. She is a very kind, caring woman. She has worked in Mauritania before, and returned because she loves the people, loves the cultures, and wants there to be a lasting change in the health care system. Between these two stints in Mauritania, she spent time in Palestine, seven months helping the Palestinian people on the ground. She has a passion for those in the greatest need.

This woman, who has given a piece of her life directly to the Palestinian people, was one of the few hurt in a retaliation against Israel. In a senseless, pointless attack of anger, the gunmen hurt someone who cares deeply for the same population that they claim to support (though their actions leave me with a different perception).

We're lucky that this friend of mine feels as she does, that she plans to return and continue her work. If I were shot and sent home to recover, I don't think that I would have the wherewithal to continue on the same path. And I don't think I'm alone. How many more good people, people without a political agenda, people who just want to see healthy children, will be shot, and will leave?