Haji Character Analysis

“He taught me to treat everybody well, because we are all equal, no matter what we look like, what we believe in, or how much money we have. To always do the right thing, even if it’s hard. Even if people tell you it’s impossible.”

I was drawing on something deep inside me. Maybe it was the letters my mom received from Haji in Baghdad, or the pictures I’d seen of the gassing of the Kurdish babies. Maybe it was the tenacity and optimism of Mama Evelyn or the strength and integrity of my dissident parents. Maybe it was the inspiration of my heroes, fighters like Alice Hamilton. […] Or maybe there was even something in my DNA, an ancestral inheritance of persistence and rebellion and activism, handed down to me from the generations of prolific scribes who had hoped to keep Nestorian traditions alive, or from Nuri […] with his brave rebellion, or from Paul Shekwana with his passion for public health.

“A small bird few down and tugged at the hem of his white dishdasha. The bird told Haji that he would take him to the doctor. But Haji laughed at the small bird, wondering how such a tiny bird could carry him. Soon another bird came and took the edge of his sleeve. Another bird came, and another, until hundreds of birds surrounded him. They each held a small piece of his dishdasha, and even his hair and his toes, and together the birds were able to lift him and fly him through the air.”

“He taught me to treat everybody well, because we are all equal, no matter what we look like, what we believe in, or how much money we have. To always do the right thing, even if it’s hard. Even if people tell you it’s impossible.”

I was drawing on something deep inside me. Maybe it was the letters my mom received from Haji in Baghdad, or the pictures I’d seen of the gassing of the Kurdish babies. Maybe it was the tenacity and optimism of Mama Evelyn or the strength and integrity of my dissident parents. Maybe it was the inspiration of my heroes, fighters like Alice Hamilton. […] Or maybe there was even something in my DNA, an ancestral inheritance of persistence and rebellion and activism, handed down to me from the generations of prolific scribes who had hoped to keep Nestorian traditions alive, or from Nuri […] with his brave rebellion, or from Paul Shekwana with his passion for public health.

“A small bird few down and tugged at the hem of his white dishdasha. The bird told Haji that he would take him to the doctor. But Haji laughed at the small bird, wondering how such a tiny bird could carry him. Soon another bird came and took the edge of his sleeve. Another bird came, and another, until hundreds of birds surrounded him. They each held a small piece of his dishdasha, and even his hair and his toes, and together the birds were able to lift him and fly him through the air.”