I'll warn my reader that this post is not like any I have ever posted before. It's a tribute to someone I have never met and will never meet.
I've grown close to my Arabic professor, Rana. She taught for three years at the Defense Language Institute which is also here in Monterey. She told me today about a student she had at DLI. This student was a hard worker and passionate about Arabic. In fact, he was so focused that instead of being at the DLI for the normal year and a half for the program, he was sent to Iraq after only 6 months to use his Arabic as a linguist. He was barely in Iraq when he was shot and killed.
I am haunted by his story. It's not that he was killed. I'm fully aware that too many Americans have already died in Iraq, but it hits too close to home. I could imagine him having Rana as a teacher. I could imagine him struggling to learn the 10 Measures of the Arabic Verb, of listening to hours upon hours of Al-Jazeera, and dreaming of a life as a translator, only to have his life ended so quickly by a single bullet.
I don't even know his name, but I know that for as long as I continue to learn Arabic, I will never forget him.
