June 2020
Madiha
June 7: Chicago protests: Hundreds of protesters condemn police brutality in Wrigleyville, Lincoln Square, Mount Greenwood (ABC7 Chicago)
From the signs to the chants and the heated one-on-one conversations, the message remained clear: speak up against police brutality, demand justice and unite to fight back against systemic racism.
"Every young black man is not a criminal and so I'm out here for that reason," said one protester, Muriel Harris.
"We're seeing our young African American men not able to grow up to be everything they aspire to be," said another protester, Catherine Walker. "They are not able to graduate, to finish school, to become their full self. My concern is I'll have to visit my son at the cemetery before his time is up."
My heart broke for the men, women and children who had to deal with systemic injustice night and day. No matter what my experiences were in this country my slightly less melanated skin put me at a privilege not enjoyed by my Black colleagues and friends.
As I sat alone on a bench outside the hospital, reading the news and eating my sandwich at lunch time, I saw Omar and Elijah walk out of the main entrance and take their masks off. Being able to simply breathe in fresh air was another privilege, many within the walls of a hospital didn't have.
It took Omar a moment to notice me, but when he did and that heartwarming smile slowly spread across his face making my pulse quicken, I realized too what a privilege it was to be loved by a man like him. From the way his eyes lit up at the sight of me, and the genuine affection of his smile, I always found a sanctuary within him, a place where acceptance and warmth converged to comfort my soul.
"I was hoping I'd find you here," he said, taking a seat next to me on the bench.
"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't hoping the same," I smiled back before dramatically pouting. "Especially, after you dumped me the other day."
He laughed, "I would never dump you, Madi. I had someone important to meet?"
"A female someone?" I raised a brow.
"No, not female at all." He shook his head with amusement.
"Then who?"
"Your father," he said with a straight face, making me sit up immediately. Alarm bells rang, a conversation with Faraz I hadn't mentioned to Omar came to mind. Theories on what the conversation with my father might have been about rattled through my head like an unexpected storm.
"Abu? Why would you go meet him?"
He confirmed what I feared, "Uncle called, asking me to convince you to marry Faraz."
Disbelief washed over me. I had always respected my father, he had been my hero, the man who supported me through the worst of life, yet in that moment I struggled immensely. Not just to find words to reply to Omar, dreading what his answer to my next question would be, but also to retain any semblance of respect for a father who refused to acknowledge my utter hatred for a man he kept trying to impose on me.
"What did you say to him?"
Omar sat back, and sighed, gazing off into the distance. "I told him I loved you in ways that no one else ever could, and that I would do everything necessary to give you a comfortable life."
His words filled me with warmth, but anxiety soon over shadowed it. "And? What did he say about us?"
"Nothing, really. Just that he was going to delay meeting Faraz's family." His gaze landed back on me, "But that was over a week ago. If he hasn't said anything to you, I can only assume nothing I said made a difference to him."
My conclusion wasn't any different from Omar's. Knowing my father well, I knew he had a tendency to make swift decisions. When he hesitated, it usually indicated his struggle to convey unpleasant news without the inherent pain it carried.
"If he doesn't accept us, I don't know what else to do," Omar muttered quietly, running his fingers through his hair. "I can't lose you, Madi."
In all honesty, I didn't know what else to do either. If I rejected Faraz, my father would just introduce someone else. It was a cycle that needed to be halted. And while my father probably didn't realize it, he had inadvertently instilled in me the confidence to stand up against those who hurt me.
No one was hurting me more right now, than my own parents
"I won't let that happen," I assured Omar, and meant every word of it. They had seen my humble, responsible, older sister side. They were about to see my rebellious side too - just as soon as I got back from an event I was attending tonight.
The 'event' reminded me -
"What are you doing in the evening, today?"
"I have to go to the lab for some important time-sensitive experiments. Why?"
"Uh..." I looked over at Elijah who was leaning against the wall, engrossed in a conversation on the phone.
"Wait a second," Omar immediately said. "You're not thinking of going to the protest tonight with Elijah, are you?"
I sucked in a breath, "Well..."
"No, Madi," he grabbed my arm, like I was about to run off now. "You are not going to any large gathering. You've barely recovered from COVID, and God forbid if you get exposed to tear gas or something you'll be back to square one."
"But Omar, this cause is very close to my heart. You know that," I pleaded, not that I needed his permission. Like Faraz, kept rubbing it in - we didn't have any relationship at all, for now.
"Stay home and right an op-ed then. Or donate money. Do not go around putting your life at risk."
"That's not enough. Showing up in solidarity matters." I tried to argue back.
"Nothing matters more than you own health. Besides, you scared me enough when you got COVID, don't make me go through it again."
"That's emotional blackmail," I pouted, which only made him smile wider.
"Then I am an emotional blackmailer. Or what ever else you want to call me. But promise me you will go straight home after work."
His impassioned opposition and the tender reason behind it, left me with no choice but to nod and say, "I promise." Containing within me the rebellious streak that was now morphing into full blown defiance.
I loved Omar, but I could make my own decisions.
*******
A Few Hours Later
"Hey Elijah, wait up." I called after the intern who had become quite good friends with Omar, and now seemed to be heading out after finishing his shift.
"Oh hi Madi. What's up?"
"Are you going to drive to the protest today?"
"Yesss." He breathed out a slow, reluctant reply. "But you will be staying at home, right? Omar, said you've just recovered and its not safe for you to go anywhere near the protest."
Oh did he now? My lips pursed.
"In case you have forgotten, I am the senior resident, and you two are the interns. In just a couple of weeks, I'll actually be your boss as the new Chief Resident. So tell him that he shouldn't pretend he knows more than me. Besides..." I shrugged. "I feel fine. And I was just going to volunteer at the medical camp, not attend the protest per se."
"But -"
"No buts. Just give me the location of the medical camp, and I'll find my way there. If you don't, I'll make sure you have the worst call schedule of everyone next year."
His shoulders slumped. "I'll come pick you up in an hour," he said, and didn't go back on his word. Though much to my annoyance, he made a call just before he came.
Omar
I was all suited up in my BSL3 lab's safety gear looking at a plate of SARS-CoV-2 infected lung cells, when I was forced to de-gown after the incessant ringing of my phone. The fact that it was Elijah who was calling so relentlessly was the first indication that my 'important time-sensitive' experiments would be have to wait.
"Hey dude. Your woman is holding my call schedule hostage. Come and get her."
"Get her from where?" I asked, though I had an inkling my plea from that morning had gone completely unheeded by my strong-willed woman.
"The corner of Superior Street and Michigan Ave. We're at Medical Camp 4, but she keeps trying to join the protest itself."
That was all I needed to hear, before I was already half-way out the door.
*******
"Who told you I was here?" Madi frowned as soon as she saw me.
"I have friends," I replied, which made her look at Elijah who was standing next to her.
"Traitor."
Elijah laughed, "Sorry Madi. Its the intern code, interns over senior residents. Always."
"I'll remember that when I am making next year's schedule," she wagged her finger at him, before thrusting an open box of masks into my hands. "If you're going to be here, at least make yourself useful."
Pointing to the front of the medical tent we were standing in, she instructed, "Stand there and offer a mask to anyone who is not wearing one"
"On one condition."
"What condition?"
"You do not move from this tent, and we're leaving in an hour."
Her hands rested on her hips as she declared. "Two hours, not a minute less."
So stubborn. It was almost comical to see her her beautiful dark eyes narrowing, and whimsical wisps of curly hair dancing into her face. If I wasn't sure that she would snap my head off, I would have told her that she looked so adorable when she argued.
"Fine. But not a minute more either." I told her, mesmerized as always by her spirit and determination.
For the next hour, Madi stayed put and I diligently handed out those masks. Even though we were out in the open the crowd of people had swelled from just a trickle when I first got here to people walking on both sides of the streets and the sidewalks. Greater the number of people, greater the inherent risk of COVID transmission, open air not. Thankfully, almost 90% of the people were masked, and the others were willing to put one on when I asked them.
A far cry from some of the anti-masking rallies that were happening in other parts of the country.
I was glad I had decided to leave my car at the hospital and jog over. Otherwise, trying to drive in this crowd would have been absolute nightmare. Apparently, as Madi found out from Twitter, there were at least 2 other demonstrations like this one going on in other parts of downtown. And while the demonstrations themselves seemed to have been impromptu, the organizers were now encouraging people to march towards the city government offices which were next to the Chicago Police Department's headquarters - just a few blocks away from us.
Over the last few minutes, we had also been joined by a couple of ER physicians from other hospitals around the city, as well as some experienced nurses.
"There is no way ambulances will be able to get through this crowd, so I've told the organizers to call us if medical services are needed somewhere," one of the ER attendings was saying when much to my dismay Madi pulled up a map of the downtown area and pointed to a circular region around out current location.
"If services are needed in this area, should we be the ones to respond?"
What I wanted to say out loud was, don't get any ideas in your head Madi, you promised to stay put. But the glimmer of excitement in her eyes to finally do something other than stand under a canopy with a red cross on it, was enough evidence that no matter what I said it would all be in vain.
Neither did it help that the rest of the medical staff was already busy organizing themselves. "It's best if we go out in pairs, maybe one nurse with one doctor," a trauma nurse who had previously volunteered at a local demonstration was saying when Madi bobbed her head up and down.
Great, I gave up.
Luckily though, there were more physicians that nurses in our group so I was able to pair up with Madi. We had barely finished putting together our medical supplies bag when the crackle of the walkie-talkie interrupted us.
"Omar and Madi are you guys up for dealing with this call?" one of the ER attendings asked.
Madi was on it, before I could even process, "Yup, come on Omar." she said and grabbed one of the first-aid kits. I grabbed the other and started following her towards the location of a 60-year old reported to be feeling dizzy. A few minutes later we reached the woman, sitting on a bench surrounded by several young people.
"Oh thank God you are here," a girl in her teens called out. "Grandma felt dizzy all of a sudden and then she tripped on the sidewalk. I caught her before she fell, but her ankles look pretty swollen."
The sweet old lady laughed it off, "Oh I am fine, my grandkids are just fussing about me unnecessarily, like I am some ancient oldie or something."
"Oldie? You don't look a day over 30," Madi chuckled as she kneeled in front of her. "But even 30 year olds can sprain their ankle sometime. Could I take a look?"
The ankle did look swollen, but there was no deformity or point tenderness suggesting a fracture. So, while I took her blood pressure and other vital signs Madi wrapped it up in a bandage to support it. On that relatively hot day, the older woman had low blood pressure as well, which made me think she was dehydrated.
We handed her a couple of bottles of Gatorade, however, she was in no shape to walk any further, and there was no way that a private car or even a taxi was going to make it through the crowd.
"Oh grandma, I told you to stay at home," one of the kids spoke up.
"And miss out on this historic moment? No way," the old woman retorted, turning towards us. "You know, I almost didn't come. But the enthusiasm and sense of justice these young kids is so inspiring, I couldn't help myself."
"That sounds like a move I might pull when I hit 60," Madi responded.
"And I'd still be following you around like a crazy man," I muttered.
By then the group of teens had figured out an exit plan for their grandma. "The bus service is shut down, but the trains are still running. Let's get you on the train and then Dad will pick you up from the station near home."
Madi and I left them and headed back to our medical tent, though we hadn't even gotten a chance to sit down when Madi's walkie-talkie crackled again. Another demonstrator had fainted three blocks away.
For the next hour and half, we alone attended to at least a dozen other people in the crowd. Most had dehydration, or cramps, or were dizzy from the heat. Most people had still continued to keep their masks on, but a significant number had taken them off given the heat and humidity of the day. A couple of people had breathing difficulty when we were called to attend to them. In the middle of the pandemic those symptoms made me nervous and I made sure that both Madi and were wearing eye goggles as well when we approached them. Turned out both patients just had a mild panic attack because they were feeling claustrophobic in the crowd.
According to Twitter and other live news outlets, there were nearly 30,000 people on the streets of downtown Chicago at that moment. With the sun setting, I hoped the crowd would start to disperse since we were now running low on supplies and Madi and I had barely had a chance to sit down before we, like the other pairs of medics, were repeatedly called back out into the crowd. Plus we were well over the the two hour limit I had set for us. Yet, it was obvious we couldn't leave our post without a significant thinning of the crowd.
The demand for medical services was just too high.
"Sit down, Madi," I finally told, almost pushing her down on to a chair as I took away the walkie-talkie from her.
She wiped away sweat from her forehead, "I am fine," she insisted, even though her movements were obviously getting slower and her voice heavier with fatigue. "I just need some Gatorade. Then I'll be ready to go out again." Her hand reached out for the walkie-talkie, but I snatched it up before she could grab it.
So freaking stubborn. I had been very supportive so far, and understanding I might add. But it was time for me to put my foot down, for her own good.
"Stop pushing your limits, Madi. You are not moving from this spot for another 10 minutes. Otherwise, by God, I will carry you out of here and drop you off at home."
"You'll carry me?" she asked, amused.
"Heck yes. So don't push your luck."
"I'm not that lightweight."
"I work out."
"You're not my husband either. You're not allowed to touch me."
"Force my hand, and I'll get a Qazi here in minutes for a Nikah."
The conversation had veered into a completely unexpected direction, catching me off guard. Now, I found myself amidst a boisterous crowd fervently chanting slogans, wondering if my imaginary scenario was our only option left. That thought might even have dispersed itself had it not been for the way Madi's gaze fixated on me. As if, those words said out loud - for the first time between us - carried a weight beyond a mere suggestion voiced in frustration.
"Why are you giving me that look?" I finally asked.
"Omar..." she leaned in, perching on the edge of her seat. "What if we don't wait for our parents to come around? It's entirely possible they never will."
I gulped, not so much in response to the idea itself, but more at the earnestness with which she expressed it. Had that thought crossed my mind? Multiple times. Yet, never did it occur to me that she would entertain the notion of defying every societal norm and tradition, even if not religion, that we had been brought up with.
Despite my silence, she saw right through me, "Marriage doesn't require our parents' approval; all we need is consent from each other, and witnesses."
"Madi, that's a huge step."
My hesitation didn't stem from personal reservations, I had none. My own parents had essentially disowned me, and I questioned whether I even desired a relationship with them given their narrow-minded beliefs. However, she had always held her parents, particularly her father, in high regard. How could I be the cause of irreparable conflict between them now?
"I know, but look around you. Sometimes you have to push back in order to move forward." She reached out and slipped her hand into mine.
"Marry me, Omar. Today."
*******
Haha...bet you didn't expect the chapter to end on that sentence! TBH I had another ending planned, but this is better.
Next chapter is mostly written, so should be up soon.
Please vote and comment!