Here's to you Mr.Shadid

I was driving to work a few months ago, while listening to Fresh Air on 91.7. Terry Gross’ guest was this Pulitzer-winning Beirut-based correspondent with New York Times. He talked eloquently about the war in Iraq, the Arab uprising and the future of the region. I had stopped at a light just when he started talking about the future of Iraq. Just then a minivan pulled up beside me. A middle-aged woman, sat smoking at the wheel; the other seats were empty. My eyes were drawn to the signs on the van. The one that said “Iraq- Mission Impossible”, was partially torn off. I thought about the meaning of the sign for an instant. Perhaps, they thought the relevance of the sign had outlived its comedic life and the owner of the car figured it was time for a new sign. Something that said “Iraq was the dumb war,” to reflect then-candidate Obama’s views on the matter. Perhaps the car was bought second hand, and the new owner felt offended by the sign, figuring it was a valiant move on Prez Bush’s part to send in men and women and machinery for a brutal 10-year conflict, and sought to set the record straight for the future generations. In the new owner’s mind, perhaps the sign “Mission Impossible” ought to have instead proudly read “Mission Accomplished”. But all those signs were probably now resting in a dusty old box at the Smithsonian. The power of a strong voice and eloquent thought sometimes does force one to think a bit differently, and break away from the monotony.

I then moved on to other topics to write about and completely forgot about the day. Occasionally, I did struggle to remember the correspondent’s name, but never really took the time to dig it up from the archives. Last week I knew. His name was Anthony Shadid. Last week, he died of an apparent asthma attack, trying to make his way into Syria, while chasing the story of the uprising there. Here is how the official story goes: He was allergic to horses. The day he was trying to get his story in Syria, he was being taken there by guides on horseback. An asthma attack ensued, and he passed away miles away from any medical help.

He was an eloquent speaker, and from the brief few minutes I heard him speak, a journalist passionate about his subject. He spent years in Beirut, writing about life there. It was evident he was surrounded by danger, in a volatile region. And to meet his end with an asthma attack! I can only imagine the shock his family feels. They must have constantly worried about his well-being, what with all the danger surrounding him. And it came from a horse!

To each his own. Goodbye Mr.Shadid. This essay is to you.