<html>
<head>
<meta http-equiv="content-type" content="text/html; charset=UTF-8">
</head>
<body text="#000000" bgcolor="#FFFFFF">
<div class="container font-size5 content-width3">
<div class="header reader-header reader-show-element"> <font
size="-2"><a class="domain reader-domain"
href="https://notesfromshukri.wordpress.com/2018/11/14/historical-reflection-iii/">https://notesfromshukri.wordpress.com/2018/11/14/historical-reflection-iii/</a></font>
<h1 class="reader-title">Historical Reflection III</h1>
November 2018 - Shukri Abu Baker</div>
<hr>
<div class="content">
<div class="moz-reader-content line-height4 reader-show-element">
<div id="readability-page-1" class="page">
<div class="moz-signature">
<p><font size="-1"><i><b><span>The Holy Land Five are: <strong><a
href="http://freedomtogive.com/the-holy-land-foundation/ghassan-elashi-holy-land-five/"
target="_blank">Ghassan Elashi</a></strong>,
co-founder and board chairman;<strong> <a
href="http://freedomtogive.com/the-holy-land-foundation/shukri-abu-baker-holy-land-five/">Shukri
Abu-Baker</a></strong>, president and CEO; <strong><a
href="http://freedomtogive.com/the-holy-land-foundation/mohammad-el-mezain-holy-land-five/">Mohammad
El-Mezain</a></strong>, co-founder and
California HLF office representative; <strong><a
href="http://freedomtogive.com/the-holy-land-foundation/mufid-abdulqader-holy-land-five/">Mufid
Abdulqader</a></strong>, volunteer
fundraiser and <strong><a
href="http://freedomtogive.com/the-holy-land-foundation/abdulrahman-odeh-holy-land-five/">Abdulrahman
Odeh</a></strong>, New Jersey office HLF
representative.
<a class="moz-txt-link-freetext" href="http://freedomtogive.com/the-holy-land-foundation/">http://freedomtogive.com/the-holy-land-foundation/</a></span></b></i></font></p>
<p><font size="-1"><i><b><span>The Holy Land Five were
convicted 10 years ago.<br>
</span></b></i></font></p>
<p><b><span>9/11, A Perfect Setting</span></b><br>
<span> ________________________</span></p>
<p><span>The days that followed 9/11 were flashing by
quickly, but the mordant bitterness persisted. Public
rhetoric grew even more bellicose, the mood volatile,
and the discourse divisive. American Arabs and Muslims
sunk into a state of self-abnegation, ironically, as
the shortest cut to self-preservation. I whirled in
the midst of it, but I had more than self and family
to worry about. Rumors were becoming prevalent about
the Bush Administration intending to add new groups to
its list of Domestic Terrorist Organizations. My
anxiety swelled. Not that I had sensed there was
something fundamentally folly with the HLF that would
have warranted a justifiable move against it. Rather,
I had an instinct that 9/11 would present itself as a
perfect setting for the butchers to finally send HLF
on her way to the slaughter… and there was no better
time, because to eliminate your enemy without raising
eyebrows you must first dehumanize if not totally
demonize him. But isn’t that exactly what a
decade-long, media onslaught had already done to HLF?</span></p>
<p><span>What’s more, after 9/11 a major shift took place
in the doctrine of political correctness, where Arabs
and Muslims turned into boogeymen, called out as
enemies of the State, or would- be terrorists who were
capable of launching another 9/11- style attack on
this already disquieted nation. People like that with
tongue-twisting foreign names, as the revised doctrine
would suggest, were a threat to society and better to
not let them walk free. Hence, why not just throw the
book at them, find them guilty, lock them up, and
throw the keys in some deep sewer main in NYC or
Dallas! After all better be safe than sorry, right?
Now what jury in what American city wouldn’t fall for
an argument as such that was elegantly wrapped in the
American flag and eloquently raised in the collective
voice of 3000 innocent victims of “Islamic” terrorism?</span></p>
<p><b><span>Anxiety Builds</span></b><br>
<span>_________________________________</span></p>
<p><span>In the following weeks, the DTO list kept getting
longer and longer as new names were being added. Thus,
reflexively, when HLF had survived a day, its name
absent from that deathly list, it was cause for
celebration. Still the whole experience of being on
the brink started to take a toll on me and my family.
My stress level hit new heights, blood pressure out of
whack, and migraines longer and closer together. The
wife and the girls felt a bewildering loss of
normalcy. Parents helpless. Things had lost their
appeal, from taking the kids out for ice-cream to
spousal intimacy. Amazingly, though, HLF itself didn’t
go into a spastic paralysis; work continued to pick
up, plans drawn, and programs implemented. My staff
did not descend into a panic mood, either_ but did
exhibit signs of fatigue as anxiety piled on anxiety
not knowing what the next day had in store. Truth be
told, it was quite a trial for any to function under
such mental punishment. For, often times a prolonged
anticipation of a sudden death can be more dreadful
than death itself. No one exactly knew when HLF would
heave its last breath.</span></p>
<p><b><span>Judith Miller Knew</span></b><br>
<span>______________________________</span></p>
<p><span>When my aide, Dallel, called me on Monday
evening, December 3, 2001, sounding like she had just
seen a ghost, and told me Judith Miller had been on
the phone with her and told her she had learned from
reliable sources that the HLF had been designated a
terrorist organization, and that a public announcement
would be made sometime in the morning__ and that she
had requested an HLF response. Dumfounded, director of
emergency relief services answered by saying she was
not authorized to comment on unconfirmed reports. By
9:00 p.m., Ghassan, I, and a number of other
executives were gathered in the office discussing the
authenticity of Judith’s forewarning. Knowing who she
was and how well-connected she had been, I had no
reason to believe she was spinning us. In fact, when
it came to this particular “journalist” I always
thought of her as Israel’s most trusted, accessed, and
celebrated operative in the US. “It’s going to
happen,” I told the distraught bunch. “If Judith said
we’ve been designated, then we are indeed, and we’re
going under.” “Not necessarily,” objected Ghassan, who
had been a staunch believer in American justice. “This
is a country of laws and a constitution. What cause
did the government have to list the HLF?” At that
moment I believed my good friend was simply in denial.
“This is not coming from Washington,” I said
impatiently. “Think Tel Aviv, habibi (my dear one).
Think Tel Aviv!” Shortly after his position had
softened a little, Ghassan worked the phone to put the
Board on point, while I started to write a short
statement, which was to be taped onto the front glass
door of the building as notice to the public in case
the next day was indeed Doomsday.</span></p>
<p><span>However, in the quietness of the short drive home
a tearful voice in my head was crying: ‘<em>yaa.rubbis.tor’</em>,
(O my Lord, let it not be).</span></p>
<p><b><span>I Said Goodbye. No Shame</span></b><br>
<span>________________________________</span></p>
<p><span>On that ominous night, I didn’t exactly know why,
but I had been rather calm and composed, my thoughts
streaming orderly. Perhaps I was finally at peace
knowing we had reached the end of a very long road
after having put up a good fight at every challenge,
leaving behind thousands of lives saved and thousands
of hopes raised and countless souls touched by some of
the most amazing acts of generosity, selflessness, and
tenacity. Or maybe I had, indeed, resigned to the fact
that my charity’s life had come to a spectacular
finale, and there was nothing I, or anyone, could have
done to stand between it and its preordained
martyrdom.</span></p>
<p><span>Yes, sorrow and grief were starting to collect in
mass, but no shame had ever seen the light.
Hard-earned honor; that’s all I had taken back with me
as I stepped out of my small office- at the right
corner near the main entrance of the HLF building, got
in the car, and drove home. It was around 11:30 p.m.,
less than 8 hour away from the time the men in suits
would knock at my door, come inside, and hand deliver
me the Presidential Executive Order that had named HLF
a terrorist organization. All my personal items:
family pictures; framed certificates; awards; boss-day
gifts; books; personal notebook; even the beautiful
live plants my wife had bought and decorated my office
with… All remained uncollected, undisturbed; as though
part of me wanted to stay behind till the very end,
so in the event my charity had to go I would have
been there, lovingly, faithfully, and eternally
holding its hand.</span></p>
<p><b><span>HLF Death Certificate, Hand Delivered</span></b><br>
<span>_________________________________</span></p>
<p><span>As it turned out: December 4, 2001 (the tenth day
of the holy month of Ramadan) was indeed Doomsday. At
7 a.m. several federal agents including officials from
the Office of Foreign Assets Control, OFAC in the
Dept. of Treasury, had already been in my house
serving me an official notice authorizing OFAC to
immediately seize any and all HLF assets, tangible and
intangible. When they asked me to sign a document that
said I had been served the notice, I respectfully
asked them to sit down and be patient till I had
called HLF’s lawyer, and I asked if they cared for
coffee, to which they said no, thank you. I spoke with
the lawyer, who had a question for the Feds. I turned
the phone over to them. They spoke briefly before they
handed the phone back to me. Still on the line, the
HLF attorney told me I could sign the statement. The
Feds. left my house. I stood in the living area, my
wife disturbed, her facial expression saying, is this
really happening? </span></p>
<p><span>My system flowed with Adrenalin. Now, all of a
sudden I felt defiant. Yes, earlier I had resentfully
submitted to the notion that HLF had little or no
chance of making it alive, but It was very difficult
to notice ( and accept) the elation on the faces of
the executors. It was beyond heart shattering to
actually see these men walk in and out of my house so
sanctimonious, so peacefully, so handsomely, so
professionally, and so indifferently__ when as far I
was concerned HLF lay dead and not buried yet, and it
was my moral obligation to preside over her funeral. I
felt no animosity towards anyone. Hate was not my
thing. I could live forever without enemies, because I
had no existential need for enemies. It was late that
night I finally crashed. My wife couldn’t soothe my
hurting. She too had her own hurting to process;
hurting for her great charity and hurting for her
beloved husband because out of 7 billion people on
earth she knew more than anyone what HLF had meant to
me.</span></p>
<p><b><span> A Ghostly Visage</span></b><br>
<span>___________________________</span></p>
<p><span>I woke up at dawn, offered my prayers, and drank
my coffee before an odd feeling took hold of me. I
felt as though my feet had sunk into some muddy ground
and were sucked in so deep I couldn’t jiggle them
loose to be able to walk, much less run away. Life Now
without the HLF was my new reality, and I had to face
it, fathom it, accept it, and move forward past it.
This was the only way I could set myself free. Within
the next 3 days everything HLF had would be in
government possession. The largest American Muslim
Charity will no longer have to its name a pencil, a
paper clip, a desk, a chair, a computer, a printer, a
camera, or a single document. All will be gone.
Moreover, every hard-raised charitable dollar HLF had
in its bank accounts to fund its humanitarian programs
will be frozen; All three million of them will sit
idle in the cold hands of the Feds., while Muslim
children and their parents starved and withered like
stubble. And had you walked into the – now a ghostly
visage HLF headquarters in Richardson, you would not
have believed that until a week ago this place was
bustling with life, Imbuing with vibrancy, bursting
with energy, and teeming with men and women, young and
old: staffers, volunteers, donors as well; all working
together as a “Helping Hand for Mankind.” </span></p>
<p><b><span>A Night of Solidarity</span></b><br>
<span>____________________________</span></p>
<p><span>On Saturday, December 8, in solidarity, HLF
friends organized a community breakfast in the
multi-purpose hall, at the Richardson mosque, and
wanted me to address the crowd and speak on the latest
development. My wife, daughters, and parents (who were
living with me at the time,) and I were ready to leave
the house. Out of nowhere, my father, now lividly
gestured, screamed at me, “Shukri? Why are you dressed
like some miserable pauper?” Stunned by his outrage I
asked, “What do you mean, father?” He replied, “Are
you afraid something? Do you feel shame or self-petty
or defeat?” Baffled, I just stood speechless, my eyes
squinted. The talkative turned-taciturn man (due to
his severe hearing loss) took a quick breath, raised
his right hand and said, “I swear by Allah no one in
this house- not even you- is going anywhere before you
change your clothes and put on your best suit and
tie.” His voice softer, an air of empathy in his
breath, he lectured me:</span></p>
<p><span>“Son, if you’re afraid they’ll now come for you,
you’re wrong, because they won’t. That Son of a b***h,
Sharon, (Ariel Sharon, Israeli PM at the time, who
eerily had been in meetings with Bush in the W.H only
3 day before HLF had been taken out) all he wanted was
to end HLF and he got what he asked for. Now that the
genie is put back in the bottle, he’s not worried
about you. Everyone is counting on you to lift their
spirits. There is a reason you have been called a
leader, son. You can’t be or even look weak, Shukri.”
And my father was absolutely right. At the time, I was
underdressed for the occasion, because I had been
feeling sick in the stomach, having lost a sense of
purpose without HLF… and the seasoned man read it as a
sign of defeat and shame on my part. I walked into my
bedroom, changed, and I drove the family to the
mosque. Over 500 supporters had packed the hall. As I
walked to the podium the crowd started chanting
raucously: HLF…HLF…HLF. I faced the audience and spoke
for 15 minutes. In closing I said, “At this time, I
might seem like a wounded eagle, but I promise you I
will never become paranoid of heights”. Spirits hit
the ceiling…and the night gave me the triumphant jolt
I so badly needed.</span></p>
<p><span>Little did I know then that 11 years later most
people in that crowd along with many others would
gather in this selfsame place, except this time they
won’t be facing me. Rather at that gathering they
would be facing a simple plywood coffin, inside which
lay a petite body, freshly washed and shrouded with
three white cotton sheets. Rows upon rows will stand
behind the Imam who will lead them in the pre-burial,
funeral prayer. The deceased will be none other but my
own lovely daughter, Sanabel… and I will be missing
from that scene. In the following year it will be the
funeral of my father, Ahmed— and aging but not bowed,
I will be also missing. It really hurts. O God, you
know how much it hurts— but I at least I had been
there for my charity, and thank you God, I had been
there to the very end lovingly, faithfully, and
eternally holding its hand.</span></p>
<p><span>______________________________</span><em><br>
Related</em></p>
<p class="jp-relatedposts-post jp-relatedposts-post0"
data-post-id="1342" data-post-format="false"><span
class="jp-relatedposts-post-title"><a
class="jp-relatedposts-post-a"
href="https://notesfromshukri.wordpress.com/2018/08/13/days-before-september-11-2001/"
title="Days before September 11, 2001. Reflections
I

Historical review of some facts and
events relating to the attack on the HLF by powers
controlling the US Govt. (Administrator) Shukri
AbuBaker relates: Days before September 11, 2001
Part 1 of 3 Feds raid Infocom With all eyes toward
a bright future, I had enrolled in the Executive
MBA…" rel="nofollow" data-origin="1511"
data-position="0">Days before September 11, 2001.
Reflections I </a></span><span
class="jp-relatedposts-post-context">In "Words For
Thought"<br>
</span></p>
<p class="jp-relatedposts-post jp-relatedposts-post1"
data-post-id="1381" data-post-format="false"><span
class="jp-relatedposts-post-title"><a
class="jp-relatedposts-post-a"
href="https://notesfromshukri.wordpress.com/2018/08/27/9-11-flashbacks/"
title="9/11 Flashbacks, Reflections II


Part 2 of 3, chronicling some events surrounding the
HolyLand Foundation Charity Case 9/11 Flashbacks A
Little Broken Heart I had a terrible day and I
needed a break, which came in handy when my wife
called me and told me she was caught up in some
house chores…" rel="nofollow" data-origin="1511"
data-position="1">9/11 Flashbacks, Reflections II </a></span><span
class="jp-relatedposts-post-context">In "Legal Case"<br>
<br>
</span><a class="moz-txt-link-freetext" href="http://freedomtogive.com/the-holy-land-foundation/">http://freedomtogive.com/the-holy-land-foundation/</a>
..... History and discussion of the case <br>
</p>
<p class="jp-relatedposts-post jp-relatedposts-post1"
data-post-id="1381" data-post-format="false"> </p>
<div id="first" class="widget-area">
<ul class="xoxo">
<li id="widget_contact_info-3" class="widget-container
widget_contact_info">
<h3 class="widget-title">Mr. Shukri Baker 32589-177</h3>
<div itemscope=""
itemtype="http://schema.org/LocalBusiness">
<div class="confit-address" itemscope=""
itemtype="http://schema.org/PostalAddress"
itemprop="address"><a
href="http://maps.google.com/maps?z=16&q=usp+pobox+26030+beaumont,+tx+77720"
target="_blank">USP
<br>
POBox 26030
<br>
Beaumont, TX <br>
77720</a></div>
</div>
</li>
</ul>
</div>
<p class="jp-relatedposts-post jp-relatedposts-post1"
data-post-id="1381" data-post-format="false">-- <br>
</p>
Freedom Archives
522 Valencia Street
San Francisco, CA 94110
415 863.9977
<a class="moz-txt-link-freetext" href="https://freedomarchives.org/">https://freedomarchives.org/</a>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</body>
</html>