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Guantanamo detainee’s emotional reunion with his mother
5-03-2016
On April 16, the US Department of Defense issued a short press release announcing that Mohammed al-Hamiri, a Yemeni citizen held at Guantánamo Bay, had been transferred for release. Hamiri had been incarcerated at Guantánamo since 2002, when he was detained by American forces. First taken into custody at the age of 19, Hamiri spent more than a third of his life at the prison. During that time, he was never charged with any crime.
Writing was one of Hamiri’s greatest comforts during the 13 long years he spent at Guantánamo. Hamiri’s letters and other personal writings were cleared for release earlier this year through the work of lawyers at the Center for Constitutional Rights. The letters reflect an enduring sense of hope, love for family and friends, and a remarkably poetic imagination.
A subject that, naturally, pulled the strings of his heart, was al-Hamiri’s longing for his mother. He wrote in a letter from 2014:
This prison has made me forget my mother’s smile. She looks at me now as if I was never part of that family. I have been away for such a long time that now when I talk to her, she uses a formal tone, for aging has changed my appearance. She is timid and she talks to me as if I were a stranger. The only thing that I notice during the calls are her few tear drops which she cannot control when she sees me. I try to bring some humor to the conversation and remove that noticeable sadness from my mother and family’s faces, yet what I get in return is a look of pity which makes me even more miserable.
At the beginning of 2015, facing yet another year of incarceration without hope of release, he wrote another letter to his mother saying the following:
“Dear mother, I wish I could write to you with my blood on the walls of history so that these walls could tell the story of my love and loyalty to you, and light a candle for you in history. And even then, I could not even come close to paying you back for all those nights when you stayed up so I could sleep, when you went hungry so I could eat. You cried and hoped to see me free one of these days, and each day as the sun goes down and disappears into the horizon to mark the end of a day, I remember that you are getting weaker and I start to worry.
Mother, without you, I’m like a small boat lost in the middle of the ocean waves in a scary dark night. If I could take away all your sorrows and put them in my heart, I would not hesitate to do so and keep them forever, and you would always see my smile. But I know that you would not accept any such thing, because sacrifice is your trade, love is your name and compassion is your nature. We will see each other again one day, God willing. I will carve the day in which we meet again in all my being, God willing, and kiss your head to tell the entire world that you are the breath of air that I found to become alive again.”
He was released Saturday after over 14 years of detention without charge and met his mother. True to his promise, Al Hamiri fell to the ground still in his Guantanamo uniform to kiss her feet. The picture below tells a story far deeper than any words can describe.
Other poignant excerpts of Al Hamiri’s writings
On injustices commited in the name of 9/11
I want you to understand my reality. As far as I’m concerned the government has closed its door on our cases. Unfortunately, a tragedy happened on September 11, and many innocent people were killed. Every year on that same date people relive the suffering repeatedly; yet it is also saddening that other innocent people are dying or put in jail without having committed any crime. It doesn’t make sense for someone who gets stung by a thorn in his leg to start hitting everybody around him to relieve that pain, for he could be hurting innocent people.
Guantanamo sarcasm
The government cleared me for release in 2009. It handed me the “cleared for release” document. In 2011, I pulled out that clearance document and I was looking at it when something very funny happened. I was reading that document which was lying on the floor and I dropped the cup of coffee I was holding my hand. The coffee spilled over the document. I did not wipe the coffee, and do you know where it spilled? It spilled on the line that says: “The United States is planning to transfer you as soon as possible.” It felt like my destiny was telling me that it was a deception.
A whisper from Heaven
One night while I was immersed in my thoughts I saw that segment of a television program and it felt like a message was being sent to me from heaven. I am aware that many people don’t believe in these things, for they are too busy and enamored with money, whereas in this prison every whisper I hear and every breeze I feel mean a lot to me. Everything in this life is beautiful and everyone, with a positive outlook towards life, can make his life beautiful and make everyone around him joyful.
The absence of Mercy
We see animals killing their prey swiftly to avoid suffering and torture, yet we see human beings depriving other humans from their mothers, fathers and families just for the sake of making them feel the bitterness of deprivation and the pain of loss. Mercy is present in the ferocious animals’ instinct, yet harshness is present in human injustice.
Wearing out the human being
Guantánamo prison has undergone multiple renovations. The worn walls needed repair and the steel structure which has become rusty over time needed to be renovated. Even inanimate materials have weakened over time. If time has caused inanimate walls to tear and their colors to fade, what do you expect it did to a human being?
Dreams of Freedom
There are always means to happiness. Nothing is impossible in life, as long as you live and breathe. Thirteen years I’ve sat here. I’ve never lost hope that one day I will be free. … One day, our day for release will come. We’ll wear a suit. I’ll wear a black suit and I’ll shave. On the second day, God willing, I would wear that new suit, nice shoes, and just walk around the streets, meet the people. That’s if it’s a new country, to see the world, to see the people.
(Adapted from The Intercept)
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