by Monia Mazigh
The years that the public inquiry lasted changed Maher. He came to exist for that alone; it was his full-time job, his favorite subject of discussion, the topic he was most at home with. I will always look back with a smile to the day when Houd answered someone who asked what his father did in life: “He works at the Commission of Inquiry,” the little boy replied innocently. Hardly surprising, because every day he saw his father get ready and then leave the house to attend the public hearings being held in Ottawa, or heard him discussing the inquiry with his lawyers on the telephone.
Maher’s imprisonment in Syria had broken him – morally and physically. The public inquiry held him hypnotized, transfixed; he became a man obsessed. The search for truth he’d dedicated himself to drove him on; tirelessly he read his way through document after document, always in the hope that the inquiry would give him the answers he’d been denied. His name had been destroyed, slandered, his reputation ruined, his career crushed. The public inquiry was the only way for him to break the infernal cycle he’d been thrown into that fateful September 26.
Before my husband was arrested and my whole life collapsed, I believed I’d got the better of my mother, and of all the adults of my childhood. I thought I’d found happiness with my husband, two children, and a relatively easy life in Canada. All of it vanished in the twinkling of an eye. Happiness would never again taste the same to me.
Now I see it in a different light. I try to go beyond appearances and impressions. Our lives are fragile things; happiness is almost impossible to grasp. What we make of our lives every day is what brings us a little closer to happiness. When my husband was arrested by the Americans then sent off to Syria, I could have chosen to remain silent, to hide, to see myself as a victim and lament my fate. But I chose not to; I took another path.
When my husband returned to Canada, changed forever, after a year of imprisonment and torture, once again I could have remained silent, fled the media, found a job and tried to be forgotten. Once again, I refused that option. I don’t regret doing what I did. My husband, my children, and I have all suffered as a result. But I believe that the inquiry, despite its ups and downs, despite our doubts and dreams, has brought us much, both as individuals and as a society. Maher was finally able to clear his name, and the whole question of national security as opposed to human rights was re-examined.
In the aftermath of September 11, the dominant view was that security must override individual rights. That doctrine is no longer viable. The public inquiry proved that nothing can be more precious than a just balance between security and human rights. Leaning too far in one direction or the other can only lead us onto dangerous ground for either human rights or security.
On January 25, 2007, four months after the publication of Mr. Justice O’Connor’s Report, the Government of Canada, now led by Stephen Harper, presented us with its official apologies. In a letter addressed to my husband, Maher Arar, which I have framed and hung over my desk, he writes: “On behalf of the Government of Canada, I wish to apologize to you, Monia Mazigh and your family, for any role Canadian officials may have played in the terrible ordeal that all of you experienced in 2002 and 2003.” It was I who insisted that our lawyer obtain that letter, its words written black on white. I wanted Barâa and Houd to be able one day to read those words, and not live their lives in the shadows.
Words that can disappear into thin air are not enough, I had learned. They must be recorded.
Over the last six years, I have lost what many families try so hard to build: stability. I lived my life from day to day, not knowing when misfortune would strike again. My husband’s name, those of my children, and even my own were linked to terrorism. We were spied upon, scrutinized, and examined minutely. Even though I have long lost my childhood enthusiasm, I have not lost my ability to look at the world like a child. I have kept my naivety and a kind of innocence that has many times saved me from falling into depression and pessimism. When I learned later, in the course of the public inquiry, that certain individuals in the government apparatus had done their utmost to block my husband’s return, and to obstruct me in Canada, I thanked God with all my heart for protecting my faith, and the hope that better days would come.
My two children, Barâa and Houd, were my constant companions in this search for justice; they were a constant source of inspiration, the wellspring of hope from which every day I drew the courage I needed to pursue my path. In their simple desire to play, speak, and simply to grow, they helped me keep my feet firmly planted on the ground. When I looked into their eyes, I understood that life goes on above and beyond our misfortunes, and that there is always meaning to be found, even in our worst of trials.
… it may be that ye dislike a thing and Allah brings about through it a great deal of good. – THE QUR’AN, CHAPTER 4-AN-NISA [WOMEN], VERSE 19
Our wedding day, in 1994.
At home, in Bayshore, winter 1999.
In Al-Haouaria, Tunisia, with Houd (left) and Barâa in the summer of 2002.
The vigil, December 2002. From left to right: Alexa McDonough, author, Nazira Tareen.
Julie Oliver, Ottawa Citizen
Above: The birthday photo that appeared in Time magazine in January 2003.
The giant passport for the march on September 25, 2003.
Courtesy of Amnesty International
The press conference at Montréal–Dorval International Airport, October 6, 2003. Rod MacIvor, Ottawa Citizen
At Montréal–Dorval International Airport, on the day of Maher’s return.
At the press conference on November 4, 2003, in Ottawa. Jim Young/Reuters
Maher, Barâa, and Houd at home in 2004 or 2005. Bill Grimshaw, grimshawphoto.com/Getty Images
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I would like to thank many people who helped me during the writing of this book:
Lucie Dumoulin for her patience and professionalism in reading and reviewing the French text with me. Pascal Assathiany, Jean Bernier, and the whole team at Boréal for their encouragement and support.
Doug Pepper, Susan Renouf, and Jenny Bradshaw at McClelland & Stewart for their help and guidance throughout this process.
Patricia Claxton and Fred A. Reed for their meticulous and rigorous translation.
Michael Levine for his advice, his enthusiasm, and his encouragement.
Our friend Richard Swain for his devotion, receptiveness, good humour, and helpfulness.
My father and mother for their encouragement and for giving me all the love and affection in the world.
Finally, my husband, Maher Arar, who since the beginning of this project has been a pillar of support with his encouragement, his advice, and his patience.
PATRICIA CLAXTON has received two Governor General’s Awards for Translation and numerous award nominations. She has a master’s degree in translation and taught in the field for eight years. Her translation A Sunday at the Pool in Kigali by Gil Courtemanche, published in ten editions worldwide, was long-listed for the International IMPAC Dublin Literary Award and nominated for two other prizes. Her most recent translation is Jacques Godbout’s Operation Rimbaud. She lives in Montreal.
Born in California, and a Quebec resident since 1963, FRED A. REED worked in the labour movement before becoming a freelance journalist, contributing to Le Devoir, La Presse, CBC, and Radio-Canada. At the same time, he pursued a literary career, winning the Governor General’s Award for translation three times, twice for his English versions of works by the late Thierry Hentsch, and, with David Homel, for Martine Desjardins’ Fairy Ring, as well as writing books on Iran, Syria, Turkey, and the Balkans.
Copyright © 2008 by Monia Mazigh
Translation copyright © 2008 by Patricia Claxton and Fred A. Reed
All rights reserved. The use of any part of this publication reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, or stored in a retrieval system, without the prior written consent of the publisher – or, i
n case of photocopying or other reprographic copying, a licence from the Canadian Copyright Licensing Agency – is an infringement of the copyright law.
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Mazigh, Monia
Hope and despair / Monia Mazigh.
eISBN: 978-1-55199-330-0
1. Mazigh, Monia. 2. Arar, Maher. 3. Human rights. 4. Detention of persons. 5. Deportation. 6. False imprisonment. 7. Prisoners’ spouses – Canada – Biography. 8. Prisoners – Syria – Biography. 9. Torture victims – Syria – Biography
I. Title.
FC641.M39A3 2008 971.07092 C2008-901759-5
We acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Book Publishing Industry Development Program and that of the Government of Ontario through the Ontario Media Development Corporation’s Ontario Book Initiative. We further acknowledge the support of the Canada Council for the Arts and the Ontario Arts Council for our publishing program.
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