The greatest athlete in Doha was far from the track.
by Mark Cullen
by Mark Cullen
Doha hotel.
Tall Dutchman, born of Somalia.
We speak of track and field, but that’s not why he’s here.
His younger sister was in the wrong place at the wrong time
when a suicide bomber detonated herself in Somalia, where a rash of such
attacks have taken place this year.
Among the survivors, his sister is most grievously wounded,
with extensive injuries to her left face, her left shoulder, her left hip.
Here to reclaim her young adulthood.
Two days later, the lobby, a tap on my shoulder.
The tall Dutchman with his entire entourage.
This is my sister, he says, as she extends her hand from her
wheelchair.
I encounter their mother at breakfast every morning, a towering
familial fortress of strength and reserve. I glance and nod, my daily brief
greeting.
Impenetrable.
On a day, she holds my eye.
On another, a barely perceptible nod.
Ten days sweep by.
At breakfast, a movement captures my attention. A woman is using
a walker.
Her daughter.
Mother follows.
She waves.
Copyright 2019 Mark Cullen and Trackerati.com. All rights Reserved.
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