One stood out from the rest for two reasons. The first was the name, Maher Nawaf, which I didn’t recognize. The second was the subject line: “pleas papers.” Clearly, the e-mail was from someone who did not have a complete grasp of the English language.
The message was from an Iraqi, a university research scientist in Mosul who wanted permission to reprint a research paper I had authored. As a scientist, I’m used to getting these kinds of requests; it’s part of the give and take among researchers that I especially like. I wrote him back the next day, asking for more information about the type of work he was doing. I also wished him and his family (presuming he had one) best wishes for their safety and wellbeing during this dangerous time in his land.
A couple of days later, his reply appeared in my inbox. It read, in part:
“hi dear Dr. I’m very happy to hear good news from you and your help, also I’m grateful about your feelings towards me and my family … thank you very much for help I want to tell you that I’m ready to help you in mosul university/iraq if you need that … the situation in iraq (new america as I call) is very good and best than before when bad saddam regem miss chances for help researcher.”
Maher also explained in his broken English that he was interested in a paper I’d written on the use of lactobacillus acidophilus (a beneficial probiotic that can be found in yogurt and other foods). It was his hope that he could use my findings to help find a treatment for gastrointestinal illness. He signed off: “warmest regards to you and lovely family.”
Despite his difficulty with the language, he had painted a picture for me that was far more than a simple request for information. The humanity that leapt off my computer screen made me want to both smile and cry.
I don’t know whether his reference to Iraq as “new America” was simply a verbal turn of exuberance, an attempt by him to convince me that we were simpatico or a fatalistic expression. I don’t know Maher, so I can’t say how his mind works.
I do know that at a time when we constantly focus on the push-pull of leaders and events in Iraq, Maher’s message reminds me of the countless ordinary people there who are making an effort to carry on with their lives. When I shared his e-mail with a friend of mine, she said, “Sometimes it does help to see the tree in the forest.” Another said,“Certainly, a haunting, heartbreaking optimism comes through in that letter.”
I don’t write this to comment in any way on the Iraq war, its aftermath or U.S. foreign policy. There’s no shortage of people with opinions on these matters. The world doesn’t need my two cents.
I want to share the story because even though it was sent from a part of the world where one often hears of angry and frightened people saying and doing angry and frightening things, Maher’s message brings to mind another image-one of a fellow researcher looking for scientific information so that he can go forward with his work and, with any luck, find a way to help sick people. His note conveys a sense of hope and promise in a region that often seems bereft of both.
He is simply a researcher, reaching across the world to ask a fellow scientist for information. Maher, I’m happy to send it to you. Ask anytime.
McFarland lives in Seattle.
