I have written before about how I hate to hear the news of deaths in the Middle East due to the “war.” But when I hear things like the following that I just heard on NPR, it really makes me sad.
A pair of insurgent attacks in Iraq’s northern Nineveh province on Tuesday killed three U.S. soldiers and their interpreter, the military said.
Even though that was a spoken language interpreter, the job that he/she did and the job I do are the same…and I feel like a colleague, a peer, even a family member, has died rather than just one more nameless casualty of “war.” I hear that word above all others, every time another interpreter is killed, loud and clear, above the numbers of soldiers or the name of the place where he or she was killed…I feel it, if that makes sense. I think about whether or not I would have the courage to do that job, were I a speaker of that language rather than American Sign Language and English.
Is it January yet? Are we to the point of finally talking about getting our brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers, friends and colleagues out of this “war” and back home where they are safe?