By Nadrat Siddique
Special
to the New Trend
It
was Patriot’s Day Monday in Boston, and I ran through torrential rain from my
hotel to the Boston Common two miles away. I was there to run my second Boston
Marathon, calling attention to the case of a small, slight Pakistani Muslim woman
neuroscientist, being held political prisoner by the United States. Her name is
Dr. Aafia Siddiqui.
Boston
is very odd as far as marathons go, for three reasons. For one, unlike nearly
all other races, which are held on the weekend, Boston is held on a Monday. And
that Monday is nowhere a holiday except in Boston.
Secondly,
the race starts for most runners—depending on one’s assigned start time—around
10:30 or 11:00 a.m., very late by racing standards. Nearly all other races
start around 7:00 or 8:00 a.m., with some starting as early as 6:00 a.m., both
to avoid the heat of the day, and to minimize traffic blockages. The late start
means that a majority of Boston Marathon runners do the bulk of their running
in the afternoon heat, which raises the specter of serious health risk.
The
third major oddity about Boston is that the course is one-way, as opposed to a
loop, or multiple loops, like most marathons. On race morning, we runners
gathered at the Boston Common to be bused to the tiny town of Hopkinton,
approximately 26 miles west of the city. Once there, in what seemed a no-man’s land, we
were, at our assigned time, to run our way back to Boston. In between were a
multitude of colleges, hills, and screaming fans. The fans lined every mile of the course, making the
race extremely boisterous. It is decidedly not
the place for an introvert. The runners were overwhelmingly White, as were most
of the fans. There were, relatively speaking, a small number of Asian and
light-skinned Latino runners.
The
race was sponsored by the financial giant John Hancock. The founding father’s
name was everywhere, proudly plastered on our marathon medals, mylar blankets (reflective
blankets given to runners post-race to prevent hypothermia), and other marathon
paraphernalia and memorabilia. There was no discussion of the fact that
Hancock, like the other founding fathers, was a slave owner.
In
the Boston Common, we runners went through a checkpoint, to get to the yellow
school buses which would carry us to the race start. We were told precisely
what type of bag (clear plastic) could be carried on the buses. Grateful to be
out of the rain, we boarded the buses under the direction of volunteers. The
twenty-six mile bus trip took close to an hour. It provided a welcome
opportunity for runners to dry off.
Once
in the very white Hopkinton, we went through an additional checkpoint to the
starting area. Repeatedly, it was emphasized that only the clear plastic bags
provided by the race organizers could be used for bag check (ie to allow runners
to leave essential items needed after the race in a common but secured holding
area). Automated announcements repeated ad naseum that unattended bags (along
the course) would be confiscated by authorities and might be destroyed. A large
number of metropolitan police, as well as some military police with submachines
(the number of the latter had diminished significantly since the 2017 race,
which I’d run) lined the course. Army snipers were positioned on rooftops in
Hopkinton and at various points along the course.
Many
of the athletes represented corporate teams. These names, e.g. Dana Farber,
were pre-printed on runners’ singlets (sleeveless running shirts). As I ran, I
heard the corporate names yelled out frequently by spectators, far more often
than individual names. To me, this was yet another indicator of the stranglehold
of corporate culture in the U.S. At many smaller races, spectators call out
runner’s names (sometimes printed on the runners bibs) as they pass. Or, they
call out the runners’ bib numbers, or other identifying nouns based on runners’
attire to encourage them. Not so at Boston. Unlike at previous races where I’ve
worn the same shirt, nary a person yelled for me, “Go Aafia!”
Some
runners ran in memory of a deceased family member, whose name they wore on
their shirt. A few had country affiliation on their shirts. The most
interesting were the visually impaired runners. According to statistics which I
read later on the race website, these numbered 44, and required a guide
companion. Each runner/ guide pair held opposite ends of what looked like a connecting
plastic bag to keep them together, with the guide wearing a tee saying “Blind
Runner.”
No
other runners, as far as I could tell by observation and later research, ran
for a political prisoner. And this year, like the last, there appeared to be few,
if any other Pakistani women. As I said the last time I ran Boston, I could
only run this race for Aafia. It pained me, as I ran past the turnoff to
M.I.T., where Aafia had once studied, to think of this petite woman, beloved mother
of three, and star scholar, suffering in a tiny Texas prison cell for a crime
she clearly did not commit. But—what pained me the most was that Muslims, even
those who knew her during her time in the U.S., and all Muslim organizations,
except for Jamaat al-Muslimeen and the Aafia Foundation, were willfully silent
on her suffering. And silence is still complicity.
By
now, I have run two National (Washington DC) Marathons, a Chicago Marathon, and
two Boston Marathons in Aafia’s name. (All told, I have run 42 marathons, but
many of them have been for my own personal edification/ challenge, which I also
view as important.) I am obviously not a professional athlete, or particularly
fast. My best mile time is 7:18, run at the International 5K in Columbia, MD,
where I represented Pakistan (unofficially).
I am
not paid by anyone to run for Aafia or other political prisoners. I run for
them because I believe it is a fundamental part of my faith, Islam, to stand up
for the oppressed.
The
Qur’an says in Surat-ul Balad, “And what is the Ascent? It is to free a slave.”
I view it as my responsibility to fight for the freedom of the modern day
slaves, the political prisoners, whose existence, while denied by the U.S.
government, is an unfortunate reality under the system of White Supremacy and
the congruous imperialist wars.
In
that capacity, I traveled to the Black Hills (SD) and Plymouth (MA), to run
for Leonard Peltier; to Salt Lake
City (UT) and Hyannis (MA), and to run for Mumia Abu Jamal
(Black Panther political prisoner); to Chicago to run for Aafia; to Wilmington to run for (then-) Bradley Manning (Wikileaks whistleblower turned political prisoner);
and now again to Boston to run for Aafia. There is always a way to speak out when grave injustice is occurring,
however one chooses to do it. And for me, it is through running.
#FreeAafiaSiddiqui #FreeAllPoliticalPrisoners #BostonMarathon2019 #RunningForJustice
© 2019 Nadrat Siddique
This article first appeared in New Trend, April 21, 2019
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