As the closing ceremony of the Paralympics concluded a summer like no other, this end is merely the marker of a new beginning 
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I have re-written this blog at least five times. Crumpled bits of paper litter my floor, like a scene out of a movie. Somewhat fitting I reckon, as I am trying to sum up in 1000 words, what can only be described as a fairytale experience. 
Once upon a time, seven years ago to be precise, on a sofa in North West London, I watched the announcement of the host city of the 2012 Olympic Games. My first thought went back to the amazing atmosphere that I vaguely remembered from Euro 1996 – crowds and banners lining the approach to Wembley stadium, within an electric atmosphere that gripped the nation. And that was only one sport. What would the greatest show on earth have in store? Whatever it was, I wanted to be a part of it. 
In the approach to London 2012, I was in my final years of university in East London. Every morning, I would get the train out of Liverpool Street into the depths of Essex. Every day I would pass the hotly debated Stratford site. Every day, waiting, wondering, what would become of it? On those cold, dark winter mornings as I sapped the heat from my coffee cup I would look forward to the image of the sun rising over the Olympic stadium, a scene that never failed to draw a smile on my face. 
Whilst the negativity surrounding the games continued to escalate, deep down I knew that, when the time came, all the critics would be silenced by the power and beauty that underlies the Olympic and Paralympic movement; the human spirit. 
Of all the amazing feats of skill, athleticism and determination that were seen during the eleven days of competition, one thing truly captured my heart. Day eight saw the beginning of the wheelchair rugby competition and I just happened to be working outside the basketball arena on this hallowed day. Now, for those of you that haven’t come across wheelchair rugby before, let me introduce it to you by its more affectionate name: Murderball. 
At risk of exposing my ignorance of disability sport – I had never heard of wheelchair rugby until these Paralympics. Clearly, I was in the minority, as it was the fastest selling event at the games, reflected by the crowds it drew. The queue to get into the arena began to grow well in advance of the opening match: GB vs. USA. For anybody familiar with the Olympic park, to give you an idea, the queue extended from the front of the basketball arena all the way around the perimeter of the street market and right over Channelsea Crossing &#8211; even longer than the queue for the world’s largest McDonald’s (believe me that’s an achievement!). The atmosphere was buzzing. 
As I stood at the information point overlooking the ever-increasing queue I was approached by an elderly American couple asking for more details about the event; what time the doors were due to open,  where they could get hold of memorabilia, etc. Now, having recently come to learn of the brutality that can envelope some of these wheelchair rugby games I couldn’t help but wonder what such a lovely, well-mannered elderly couple were doing flying across the Atlantic to witness such an event. 
“We’re here supporting our son” said the gentleman with the widest, proudest of smiles. “He plays for the US national team.&#8221; 
Having seen the mental torture my own mother would put herself through every weekend during my brother’s American football playing days, I could not understand how any parents could watch their son purposefully ram his wheelchair at top speed into that of an opponent. As they proceeded to tell me their story, however, it all became clear. 
Caught in an unfortunate motorcycle accident, Josh Wheeler spent a year in hospital recovering from numerous injuries including a broken neck that left him paraplegic. During this hospital stay, one of his physical therapists approached Josh with a DVD of the 2005 Oscar-nominated documentary Murderball and the rest, as they say, is history. 
I came home that day fascinated by Josh’s story, and jumped onto my computer to read more.   
For many, such a life-changing experience can feel like the end of the road. In one interview, Josh describes many dark days, where he struggled with the new challenges he had to deal with. Fortunately, he describes these challenges with a smile as they provided him with the motivation to get to where he is today. Whilst I didn’t have the pleasure of meeting Josh himself, I will never forget the smiles on his parents’ faces; how proud they are of him, and how grateful they are for the opportunities he has had to travel the world as a result of his new life. Having endured a year-long stay in hospital, during which his survival wasn’t even guaranteed, and to come out on top, he and his fellow team-mates will always represent to me the epitome of the Paralympic spirit. 
Oscar Pistorius, perhaps the most famous Paralympian of modern times, encapsulates this notion in a beautiful quote: “You are not disabled by the disabilities you have, you are able by the abilities you have”. 
What’s so great about this, for me, is that it is a simple, yet universal truth. It does not pertain to disability alone, in the same way that the Paralympics are not only for people living with disabilities. For me, the Paralympics are a celebration of the human spirit’s defiance in the face of adversity. They represent a celebration of hope over despondency. One door opening in the shadow of another closed. 
Of course, spirit, hope and open doors are not enough on their own. They require action, and that my friends, is down to us. The Paralympic flame has now been extinguished for four more years but this is by no means the end. If anything it is only the end of the beginning. We have watched as these amazing athletes have delivered superhuman performances; they’ve done their bit. As they slowly leave London, and the Olympic hubbub dies down, the hard work really begins. It’s now time for us to take the reins of the legacy of London 2012 and ensure that we protect the spark of the Paralympic flame in our hearts and carry the beauty of this spirit into everything that we do. 
<figure id="attachment_6583" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-6583" style="width: 538px" class="wp-caption aligncenter"><a href="http://www.the-platform.org.uk/wp-content/uploads/2012/09/Paralympics-.jpg"><img loading="lazy" class="size-full wp-image-6583 " title="Yasmin with Iraqi Paralympic team " src="http://www.the-platform.org.uk/wp-content/uploads/2012/09/Paralympics-.jpg" alt="" width="538" height="403" /></a><figcaption id="caption-attachment-6583" class="wp-caption-text">Yasmin meets the Iraqi Paralympic team while volunteering at the Olympic Park</figcaption></figure>
<pre>Photo Credits: Yasmin Al-Asady
Featured image from: http://sports.yahoo.com/top/photo?slug=89449c63-38d9-32ca-b7bc-94e2b3f42e65-l</pre>

2012 Paralympics: A Celebration of the Human Spirit

As a British Iraqi, I am in the blessed position of sharing two fantastic cultures. I savour my parents’ stories about Iraq, the hospitality of the Iraqi household, the nail-biting play of the Iraqi football team. Of course, the English national team fills me with an equal amount of dread whenever they take to the Wembley turf, but I can recuperate after a stressful match with an afternoon of Shakespeare at the Globe, or a trip out of London to enjoy the English countryside, maybe even a cheeky fish and chips by the sea. I love it all. 
Unfortunately, however, holding two very distinct cultures so close to my heart brings with it many challenges. When each culture has a different answer to the same question, all my cultural leanings are swept up into a whirlwind of confusion that leaves my sense of identity in question; who am I? What makes me who I am? And where do I really belong? 
I am having one of these moments now. As I sit here, having taken refuge from the glorious British weather in a lovely little tea house, my cultural compass is going haywire. The question my friends is this. Tea: black or white? 
It may sound trivial to some, but this is serious stuff folks. You see, anybody who has grown up in an Iraqi household, will appreciate the complexities of this fine beverage. The brewing process is an intricate art that takes years of perfection. There’s the choice of blend, the quality of the water, the speed at which it is brewed, and plain or spiced? Of course, then there’s the cup; tea out of a mug just isn’t the same as that from a traditional istikan. 
Then I went to university. Many parents worry about their kids leaving the sanctuary of the family home and venturing out into the big bad world. Dangerous ideologies float about on campus and as people progress on their quest to find themselves, things can change. For years I argued that these fears were unfounded, but the time came for me to flee the nest and experience the wide world for myself. 
During my undergrad years, many an hour was spent in tea houses and coffee shops dotted around the city, and it was here that I was introduced to the wonderful world of afternoon tea. Cucumber sandwiches, scones with jam if you’re feeling adventurous and a healthy pot of tea to wash it all down- an innocent enough affair. 
They say you can become addicted from your first time. For me it was exactly that; one drop of creamy milk, melting into the darkness of my teacup to produce that beautiful terracotta blend. Then came the taste; a silky soft smoothness finished off by the citrusy hit of Bergamot. 
And so the questioning began. Who am I now that I have compromised such a central tenet of my Iraqi culture. What does this mean for my future? Have I passed the point of no return? Can I still enjoy an istikan of Iraqi tea with a clear conscience? 
I guess there’s only one way to find out&#8230; tea anyone?

Does It Matter if You&#039;re Black or White?

I just sat my medical finals. Six years of hard work culminating in four exams that will determine whether or not I have earned the right to practice medicine. So here I am, eagerly awaiting the results. With all the stress of exams and deadlines, it&#8217;s very easy to be swept up in the fast pace of life. Having caught up on sleep, I now have lots of time and not much to do, so naturally it&#8217;s time to reflect. 
Six years is a long time to study, and I often find myself chuckling when I bump into old friends who are shocked to hear that I’m still at university. As I turn onto the home strait however, I am in the privileged position of being able to look back on this journey, and understand the path that I have paved for myself; the successes and the failures along the way, and what can be learned for the road ahead. 
It’s an interesting time this – in limbo; having survived my exams, all I can do now is hope and pray, as my fate is decided. Then again, is that not always the case? 
In the final few days before my exams, as the nerves began to fester, and the feelings of doubt slowly crept in, I would increasingly turn to the Holy Qur&#8217;an in the hope that simply taking some time away from the books would allow me to re-evaluate. True to form however, the words of The Almighty did much more than that. I was repeatedly reassured by the messages of hope, patience and trust in His will &#8211; a message that has definitely resonated with me throughout my time as an undergraduate. After all, only so much is actually in my hands. 
Control is a funny thing &#8211; people tend to crave it, and we often freak out when we think we’re losing it. But if you take a step back and think about it objectively, when have we ever had any control? Did we decide when we were born? Did we choose our parents, social status or ethnicity? Yet, we still live under the delusion that control is the be all and end all; that control is the key to happiness and success. 
What if I could guarantee you all of the happiness in the world? Would you take it? No conditions or catches; a simple proposition. 
What if I was to tell you that the ultimate way of guaranteeing contentment is to simply relinquish the desire to be in control? Embrace the uncertainty, and jump the hurdles as and when they arise. 
Many of you reading this will be well on your way to a heart attack at the thought of such an atrocity, but take a breath or two and let your imagination run wild. Surely, the biggest act of faith is to have full trust in Almighty Allah&#8217;s plans and His grace. With faith comes patience, and from patience we breed hope &#8211; and hope, my friends, is a beautiful thing. 
With hope comes the strength to look catastrophe in the eye, and learn from it; to appreciate that what we wanted might not have been what was best for us. When one door closes, hope gives us a reason to knock on the next; to open our eyes and our hearts to whatever opportunities may await beyond it, and to strive to find our place within them. 
So, with the finish line in sight, I look back on the successes and the struggles, and I can honestly say that each and every one of them has watered the seeds of hope, patience and faith within me. And with any luck, this will make me a better doctor, but more importantly, a better person. 
Of course this isn&#8217;t limited to medical students, nor to students of any other subject for that matter. We are all on the journey of life, we all have lessons to learn, and we will all inevitably come across some sort of struggle along the way. However, through faith, honesty with oneself, and ultimately trusting in the will of Almighty Allah, no obstacle will ever seem insurmountable.

Relinquishing Control

Having endured three brutal wars in less than thirty years, exacerbated by more than twelve years of UN sanctions, Iraq has witnessed both its physical and civil infrastructure crumble, leaving behind a humanitarian crisis of an unimaginable scale
The health system 
The Iraqi health system did not escape the wrath of the conflict. In addition to the structural damage that health buildings, telecommunications systems and the road networks suffered, the mass looting that ensued as a result of the unstable security situation stripped the few functional health centres of essential resources, leaving entire cities unable to meet even the simplest of health needs. 
The difficult circumstances translate deeper within; with a combination of the early ‘de-ba’athification’ of the system, the targeted kidnapping and murder of professionals, and the continued exodus of academics and professionals, the system has been left lacking in the expertise it so desperately needs to re-build itself. 
Nonetheless, the tragic history Iraq has had to endure has planted a seed of hope in both hearts and minds, and now, seven years since the invasion, evidence of progress is beginning to materialise. Early building projects are coming to life and resources are slowly making their way to the frontline- but we mustn’t get ahead of ourselves. The needs of the nation are great, and only through effective long-term health strategy can these glimpses of hope be turned into a lasting reality.
Putting things into context 
The almost continuous barrage suffered by the country’s infrastructure over the past three decades has left a heart-rending legacy. Whereas they previously provided safe drinking water to over 90% of the population, water and sanitation plants now lie abandoned and the surviving ones are unable to operate due to a long-term lack of maintenance. The pattern of neglect continues with mountains of rubbish lining the streets, and dysfunctional sewage systems that leave a toxic trail in the country&#8217;s waterways. 
Add to this the poor dietary intake that results from the continued financial insecurity, it is no wonder that the spread of infectious diseases is rampant. Cases of Cholera and Tuberculosis, once unheard of, are becoming increasingly common. Perhaps more worrying, however, is the number of lives being lost to what would otherwise be a simple case of diarrhoea. 
In light of these living conditions, the Iraqi health system is in considerable need for the development of an effective public health program capable of facing the worsening incidence of communicable diseases.
Mental health 
Despite the steadily improving state of affairs, according to the Global Peace Index of 2009, Iraq remains the most violent and dangerous place on the planet. Violence is a very real threat and security remains at the forefront of concerns. 
With most families having experienced the tragic loss of loved ones, homes and livelihoods, superimposed upon a 30-year history of poverty and oppression, the population as a whole is extremely vulnerable to a vast spectrum of mental disorders and psychosocial distress. What’s more – due to the considerable stigma associated with psychological illness, those most in need are considered shameful and are often found neglected and abandoned by their families, who favour traditional interventions. Alongside the development of a much-needed psychiatric health programme, therefore, considerable effort needs to be directed at the primary and public health sectors to address the troublesome health perceptions of this community.
The future of Iraqi health 
So, what are the greatest medical situations facing Iraqi citizens? Quite simply, the medical situation itself. 
The rehabilitation of the healthcare system requires a coordinated long-term strategy based on reliable up-to-date health information. A nationwide data collection campaign is essential to facilitate an objective needs assessment from which successful policy can be formulated. 
Physical infrastructure needs to be restored but cannot stand without a strong civil presence parallel to it. The passage of information needs to be a two way process, mobilising local expertise and addressing the range of lingering health perceptions, in order to begin to establish a greater communal responsibility for the health of the population.
Where do we go from here? 
As we enter 2010, we are reminded of all the achievements we have seen over the years, the advancements that have been made, and the progression of mankind. Take time to look a little deeper, however, and you will notice the injustice that continues to reign around the world, the hardship our fellow humans have to endure, all the wrongs that need to be made right. 
To the Muslim community, Iraq has been the centre of centuries&#8217; worth of Islamic history and heritage; the wealth of this great nation stretching much deeper than its oil fields.To Britain, Iraq has been both friend and foe throughout its long and complex history. Power shifts and failed coups, the British presence in Iraq has never been taken lightly. 
As the Iraq inquiry continues, as mistakes are exposed and lessons are hopefully being learnt, it is quite clear that the question of whether you fall in the pro- or anti-war camp is long since irrelevant. It happened, and now we must deal with the consequences. For those in favour, the responsibility to finish what was started remains; for those against, the need for human rights advocacy, in light of continued suffering, is crucial. 
With an ever-increasing global population, there has never been a greater period for us to come together as fellows, to put aside differences and disagreements, in order to nurture our global community. We are by no means perfect, but we can, and should, aspire to be. As the great saying goes, ‘Be the change you want to see in the world’.

This post was part of The Platform&#8217;s pilot run envisioning &#8216;Britain 10 Years On&#8217; with the turn of the decade (2010)