HEIMAT

“Heimat” is one of those German terms that is practically untranslatable. The word “Heimat” is a noun and means something like ‘home’, ‘native country”, ‘homeland’, ‘home town’, ‘where I was born’, etc.

Malaysians sing the ‘Negara Ku’: Negara ku, tanah tumpahnya darah ku (My country, where I have spilt my blood); a description of “Heimat” in Malay. The other Malay word is ‘tanahair’ (land/water), which means the same.

The popular Swiss music group Züri West in one of their songs in Bernese dialect describe it like this: “…irgendwo uf em e Parkplatz / plötzlech schmöckt’s wieder wie dahei / irgendeinisch fingt ds Glück eim / irgendwänn weisch wär d’bisch / irgendwänn weisch genau wo de häre ghörsch / öpper schteut es zwöits Tassli uf e Tisch…” [“…somewhere on a parking place / suddenly it smells like home / some day happiness will find you / some day you will know who you are / some day you will know where you belong / someone puts a second cup on the table (for you) … “.]



Maybe I like this song so much because it reminds me of my own “Heimat” smell: Whenever I arrive in Zurich Main Station, step out of the station, and cross to Central to take the tram, I smell the water of the lake of Zurich and the river Limmat, a green, cold, fecund smell; that is “Heimat” for me, then I know that I am home!



“Heimat” means different things to different people and is expressed in different ways.

A few weeks ago we had “Green Day” at the Sahabat Support Centre. Some students from UIA came to the centre to organize different activities for children around environmental issues, such as recycling, reusing, and composting, things that they could do at home. Some films were shown, there were role plays, quizzes, games and other fun. The parents and other family members of the children who were present and the staff also joined.

To conclude the workshop, the students brought out big sheets of paper, groups of children settled around the papers on the floor. The last task was to draw the spoiled, polluted world on one side, and the green safe, clean world on the other side, and in the end present the paper to all, and explain the drawing.

One of the Afghan teenagers began drawing a tree on the green side of the paper: Carefully he drew one line for the trunk, another for a branch; he was adding line after line, slowly a tree emerged, as if chiselled, an intricate structure was built, line by line. The drawing reminded me of a fine Iranian carpet, the best kind, with the Tree of Life in the centre; the foundation of “Heimat”.



A young man from Gaza took the pen and drew a palm tree. Not the usual kind with a stem and lines representing leaves extending on the top. Carefully he drew one line for each palm frond in all detail. Then he drew two big bunches of dates, hanging from the centre, each date fully formed. That date palm was his symbol of “Heimat”.



Then another refugee from the Middle East came forward and drew thick rainclouds over the whole “green” side of the drawing, with drops and rivulets of water showering the Tree of Life and the date palm.



At first I was taken aback, thinking like a European, who identifies rain with something negative, like sadness. But I soon understood that rain in the Middle East is the blessing of Allah for all living things; so that rain over the green, fertile, safe, clean world is indeed the life-giving force of nature, together with the sun.

The Malays express it like this: “Hujan emas di negeri orang, hujan batu di negeri sendiri, lebih baik di negeri sendiri” (Rain of gold in foreign lands, and rain of stones in your own land, still your own land is better).



We all, Malaysians and people of other countries and with other nationalities, refugees, need the bounty and blessing of nature, rain and sunshine, the blessing of God; and everybody and all need a “Heimat”, if not in the country where we were born, we still need a place where someone puts a second cup on the table for us in a place we can call home.

Mohammad’s Birthday

Yesterday was Mohammad’s 24th birthday. That is, it would have been if he would be alive.

Mohammad died last December 26; he was 23 years old.

Mohammed was riding a motorcycle on that Sunday afternoon on the DUKE, wearing a helmet, and keeping on the left, as usual, as he was a careful driver.
The circumstances of the accident and his death are not clear. The photos of the accident show that the motorcycle was completely squeezed under the car from behind from the impact, and the police had difficulties pulling the motorcycle out from under the car. Mohammad’s body lies outside of but parallel to the safety railing at the left side of the road; he lies on the stomach, and his arms are positioned as if he is protecting his head, as if he is lying down with a headache.

There are many questions unanswered:

The car driver stated that he had parked the car on the left side of the highway. Was he really parked there– by itself an offence – or had he missed the nearby junction and was driving backwards at great speed? If he was parked, were his break lights functioning? Why did Mohammad not see him? It was broad daylight, afternoon, with bright sunshine.

What was the driver doing when the accident happened and right afterwards?
And why does Mohammad lie on the other side of the low safety railing in an orderly fashion? With his arms across his head? Was he thrown into such a position? A highly unlikely outcome of the accident.

Was he instantly dead? Or did he still live after the accident and crawled into that position himself, to succumb to his head and leg injuries? Over the safety railing? Very unlikely as well.

Was he carried there and placed in that position? By whom? He was a big, heavy young man. Who called the police?

Mohammed was the eldest son of an Iraqi Palestinian family who have sought refuge in Malaysia from persecution in Iraq a few years ago. The parents received death threats, they feared that Mohammed or another of their children would be kidnapped for ransom, or to disappear forever.

They are registered with UNHCR Kuala Lumpur and wait for their resettlement since a few years.

I had known the young man, as it was he who came to the MSRI office regarding some support for his mother’s medical treatment. He was also the one to bring his youngest sister to the school and back to the house, before going to work.
He was engaged to a very nice Malay girl, whom I finally met for the first time at his funeral. They wanted to get married in 2011, and she was set to follow him to whatever country he would be resettled in.

I accompanied the family during the whole day of the burial, from claiming the body at the morgue of HKL, to the mosque where the body was washed and prepared for the burial, to another mosque for prayers, and last to the cemetery on the outskirts of KL. There were about forty men with the father and brothers of Mohammad. I accompanied Mohammad’s mother on that day in a journey that no mother should have to make. His sisters, nieces and fiancée were also there. I knew of the bad health of the mother, and I feared that she would break down.

I was a witness to the strength of a mother who has to bury her son. Who called her firstborn to wake up and come back, to acknowledge her presence, to reminisce his life with her. She sat on the ground next to the grave after the burial and did not want to leave her son. She talked to him, pleading. Trying to accept, struggling to understand.

But she did not break down. I think that comes later.

Mohammad’s family is still waiting for the police to investigate the accident to find out what happened and whose fault it was. The autopsy report, which was promised to take 1 or 2 months is also not ready yet. RM 80.00 were paid in advance for the report. There was an error in the Death Certificate, which had to be rectified. Time of death was given as a.m., instead of p.m.

The family feels that the Malaysian authorities, the police, hospital personnel, JPJ officers are dismissing their case because they are foreigners, refugees even. They think that the authorities involved are not taking them seriously, are biased against them, and wait for them to be resettled and go away so as not to have to take any action.

Without the police investigation report and the autopsy report the family cannot find out the facts about the accident. Without knowing all the facts they cannot come to terms with their loss. Without these reports, the driver of the accident car will not have to face up to and account for his actions during and after the accident.

The father walked around with red, teary eyes yesterday.

Mohammed would have celebrated his 24th birthday, yesterday.