Tiny Dancer
The book is titled "Tiny Dancer: The Incredible True Story of a Young Burn Victim's Journey from Afghanistan". It was written by Anthony Flacco, and it is the perfect follow-up to the August 22nd entry about the Ju/hoansi's atypical attitude toward the distaff side of the tribe.
It details the experience of Zubaida Hasan, a nine-year-old living in the village of Farah, Afghanistan, when the story begins in 2001. It follows her from the day that nearly ended her life when she fell into a kerosene fire, to the day when she and her family moved from their village home to one in Herat, where she and her siblings would all actually attend school.
Zubaida was alone in her house when she lit the kerosene fire to warm water for a bath, so her screams for help went unanswered until her mother, Bador, and her second-oldest sister could run back from the house next door. What they saw was a human torch. They upended the tub of bathwater over the girl, and the unbelievable saga had begun.
One of the first "unbelievables" is the reason why Zubaida's trip to the first clinic couldn't begin until the father had been found and brought home. It's a long quote coming up, I know, but you have to see this passage to get a feel for how incredible everything that follows really is.
"Bador couldn't take Zubaida to seek the help she needed - under Taliban law, a married woman was only allowed to offer help inside of the home and behind private walls, but without a father or brother to chaperone her, she couldn't even take her own injured child to a hospital. ... a woman caught trying such a thing by herself might be judged an "adventuress". And since an adventuress is a temptress and a temptress is a whore, a woman so judged could easily receive a sentence of death by public stoning - or perhaps a simple beheading as a quicker alternative..."
The idea that any one person, let alone a whole society, would believe a woman seeking help for her badly burned child might abandon that search for a chance to bespoil some poor,innocent, put-upon young man is quite beyond belief. Nonetheless, it is the idea that still prevails in far too many places.
When Hasan made the seven-hour journey to bring his daughter to the first clinic, there was little they could do for her. They washed her burnt skin without the use of any anesthesia and rubbed her down with a salve, then sent them home with the advice to the father that his best option was "to pray for her end to come quickly".
Bador's making of that first trip and his subsequent refusal to accept the doctors' fatalism was an astounding breakaway from the strictures of the society that usually reserved such efforts to save a life for the males only. As the author explains, "many parents would simply abandon their dying daughter in the wilderness, or, if the family patriarch was of a more kindly nature, dispose of her in some quick and painless method like a stealthy bullet to the head and then bury the body with little respect."
Instead, Hasan admonished every member of the family to pray for a miracle for the little girl as he continued his quest for the people who could finally offer the medical assistance that would save his daughter. His search took them on to Herat and then to Moshad, where all the doctors did was to renew the salve. It ended in Tehran where the doctors worked on her with what little resources they had. After 20 days, however, it was agreed that she was showing no improvement and was taking up much-needed space, so she was sent home and her father was once again advised to "pray for death to ease her suffering".
The girl continued to live despite all expectations to the contrary, but her open wounds were gradually closing themselves over with stiff scar tissue. This scar tissue contracted to the point where she could no longer close her eyes or her mouth. Life had become a living hell for the little burn victim but still her father continued to hope. Because he had been a soldier during the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan, Hasan had seen some of the resources available to the Americans stationed in the region and he became convinced that taking his daughter to them would be the act that would save her.
He knew little about the Americans other than their perceived status as a wealthy people and the fact that they treated their females differently than Hasan's people were wont to do, so he scraped together the financial resources that allowed him to take her to the city of Kandahar.
After first having been refused the chance to speak to any medical personnel on the base, Hasan was in the marketplace with Zubaida when they were spotted by a Green Beret. The man chooses to remain anonymous in every retelling of the story, but you don't need to know his name to know that his heart had not been hardened by the life he lead as a soldier. He was moved to break the rule about not getting involved in the medical problems of the local people, and when he did, Hasan's prayed-for miracle began to take shape.
The miracle takes Zubaida from Afghanistan to Los Angeles on a two-year trek through multiple surgeries and a gradual healing of her spirit, that involved so many who really "shouldn't have" gotten involved at all. Her burn surgeon, Dr. Peter Grossman and his wife, for instance, take the girl into their homes and their hearts before long, in a relationship that has survived her final return to her family in Afghanistan.
The explanation for the involvement is difficult to precisely articulate, but maybe it is because, as the author suggests, there are still those of us who have a level of humanity and decency that is beyond the reach of religious rhetoric and politics. Perhaps the plight of one little burn victim was enough to transcend the fear and the hate long enough for her to be made whole again. Maybe the story of Zubaida Hasan is one that bears repeated telling, as a promise that the breaking of rigid societal norms can be good. It can shine as a beacon of hope through this time of darkness in the souls of so many.
Take a look for it. The time you take to read it will not be wasted.
It details the experience of Zubaida Hasan, a nine-year-old living in the village of Farah, Afghanistan, when the story begins in 2001. It follows her from the day that nearly ended her life when she fell into a kerosene fire, to the day when she and her family moved from their village home to one in Herat, where she and her siblings would all actually attend school.
Zubaida was alone in her house when she lit the kerosene fire to warm water for a bath, so her screams for help went unanswered until her mother, Bador, and her second-oldest sister could run back from the house next door. What they saw was a human torch. They upended the tub of bathwater over the girl, and the unbelievable saga had begun.
One of the first "unbelievables" is the reason why Zubaida's trip to the first clinic couldn't begin until the father had been found and brought home. It's a long quote coming up, I know, but you have to see this passage to get a feel for how incredible everything that follows really is.
"Bador couldn't take Zubaida to seek the help she needed - under Taliban law, a married woman was only allowed to offer help inside of the home and behind private walls, but without a father or brother to chaperone her, she couldn't even take her own injured child to a hospital. ... a woman caught trying such a thing by herself might be judged an "adventuress". And since an adventuress is a temptress and a temptress is a whore, a woman so judged could easily receive a sentence of death by public stoning - or perhaps a simple beheading as a quicker alternative..."
The idea that any one person, let alone a whole society, would believe a woman seeking help for her badly burned child might abandon that search for a chance to bespoil some poor,innocent, put-upon young man is quite beyond belief. Nonetheless, it is the idea that still prevails in far too many places.
When Hasan made the seven-hour journey to bring his daughter to the first clinic, there was little they could do for her. They washed her burnt skin without the use of any anesthesia and rubbed her down with a salve, then sent them home with the advice to the father that his best option was "to pray for her end to come quickly".
Bador's making of that first trip and his subsequent refusal to accept the doctors' fatalism was an astounding breakaway from the strictures of the society that usually reserved such efforts to save a life for the males only. As the author explains, "many parents would simply abandon their dying daughter in the wilderness, or, if the family patriarch was of a more kindly nature, dispose of her in some quick and painless method like a stealthy bullet to the head and then bury the body with little respect."
Instead, Hasan admonished every member of the family to pray for a miracle for the little girl as he continued his quest for the people who could finally offer the medical assistance that would save his daughter. His search took them on to Herat and then to Moshad, where all the doctors did was to renew the salve. It ended in Tehran where the doctors worked on her with what little resources they had. After 20 days, however, it was agreed that she was showing no improvement and was taking up much-needed space, so she was sent home and her father was once again advised to "pray for death to ease her suffering".
The girl continued to live despite all expectations to the contrary, but her open wounds were gradually closing themselves over with stiff scar tissue. This scar tissue contracted to the point where she could no longer close her eyes or her mouth. Life had become a living hell for the little burn victim but still her father continued to hope. Because he had been a soldier during the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan, Hasan had seen some of the resources available to the Americans stationed in the region and he became convinced that taking his daughter to them would be the act that would save her.
He knew little about the Americans other than their perceived status as a wealthy people and the fact that they treated their females differently than Hasan's people were wont to do, so he scraped together the financial resources that allowed him to take her to the city of Kandahar.
After first having been refused the chance to speak to any medical personnel on the base, Hasan was in the marketplace with Zubaida when they were spotted by a Green Beret. The man chooses to remain anonymous in every retelling of the story, but you don't need to know his name to know that his heart had not been hardened by the life he lead as a soldier. He was moved to break the rule about not getting involved in the medical problems of the local people, and when he did, Hasan's prayed-for miracle began to take shape.
The miracle takes Zubaida from Afghanistan to Los Angeles on a two-year trek through multiple surgeries and a gradual healing of her spirit, that involved so many who really "shouldn't have" gotten involved at all. Her burn surgeon, Dr. Peter Grossman and his wife, for instance, take the girl into their homes and their hearts before long, in a relationship that has survived her final return to her family in Afghanistan.
The explanation for the involvement is difficult to precisely articulate, but maybe it is because, as the author suggests, there are still those of us who have a level of humanity and decency that is beyond the reach of religious rhetoric and politics. Perhaps the plight of one little burn victim was enough to transcend the fear and the hate long enough for her to be made whole again. Maybe the story of Zubaida Hasan is one that bears repeated telling, as a promise that the breaking of rigid societal norms can be good. It can shine as a beacon of hope through this time of darkness in the souls of so many.
Take a look for it. The time you take to read it will not be wasted.
1 Comments:
Tiny Dancer is a miraculous story. Impossible as it seems, a man trained by his society to not value females; a man trained to kill; two completely different cultures, separated by religion and a whole lot of hate; all came together perfectly to save one little girl. It's a story of hope. It restores some faith in the human species. This is what humanity is about. It's inspiring.
Great summary too ... thanks for spreading the word.
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