Dr. Henry’s testimony on colleague and friend, Rasmi Arafat
“It is with a heavy heart that we mourn the loss of a member of the Health for Palestine family today. Rasmi was shot and killed. The following is a reflection of knowing him and his kind soul.
Knowing Rasmi was a blessing filled with laughter and caring. Here are some words and stories through which I hope he is remembered It was about 30 minutes past midnight and Rasmi came flying through the guest house door with a giant grin on his face and quickly slammed it shut, locking it and splaying his arms across it as if to hold back some sort of cartoon animal chasing him. He paused and slowly turned his head towards me with wide eyes and his grin widened.
I had almost fallen asleep on the couch and perked up half terrified of the sudden motion but also eager for something hilarious to happen given the softness behind his eyes and the laughter barely being held back. I asked him what happened in my broken Arabic and he explained terms simple enough for me to understand that he had accidently walked into another room and scared a sleeping guest almost to a point of confrontation causing a huge commotion.
After his explanation the laughter just started pouring out and some time close to 1 AM, in the middle of a besieged UN-run refugee camp in the middle of Nablus city in the occupied West Bank of Palestine, Rasmi made yet another soul feel warmth and comfort despite carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Laughter heals and Rasmi had the gift of making people laugh.
Beyond laughter, Rasmi also taught me a thing or two about how to talk to those in need of healing. One of our community members is quite sick and suffered from a
stroke years ago. His mobility is limited as are parts of his speech and cognition. Left alone, I would have been lost, but Rasmi was that connection that we could not have worked without. The community member loved to demonstrate his strength by baiting you into an arm wrestling contest all while lying horizontal in his bed, one that Rasmi was always eager to start. The first time I observed it, Rasmi appeared to struggle a bit and I assumed he was playing it up for optics. “Your turn” he said and smacked me on the back. I moved in, grabbed our friend’s hand and was promptly yanked off my feet and halfway across the bed, having been baited into one of the strongest arm wrestling grips I’ve even felt. Rasmi and the man again burst into laughter, and shortly after I joined in. The tension was gone and our team could get to talking about medications and ailments, far better than we could have without this sense of partnership.
Rasmi was a profoundly caring soul and touched many lives of many people. He worked for his family, his wife, his siblings, and his parents constantly. His father was like a parent to me away from home, always embracing me with a warm hug every time I saw him and sharing dinners at his home.
Rasmi was indeed his father’s son. Rasmi brought food for those he worked with on a nightly basis and solved many hungry nights for me personally without me asking, leaving voice notes some minutes later to see if the food was to my liking. It always was. He was a soft and protective person and made you feel safe wherever you were.
To know Rasmi was to be inspired. If you are a healthcare worker reading this, we should be so lucky to have his wit and warm speech. He had a way of talking with patients that just overflowed with trust and built bridges over canyons seemingly uncrossable.
Losing Rasmi is a profound tragedy. To know him was a profound privilege. I pray for him and his family. Our community and the people that knew him will continue to walk on the blessed path that brought us together in the first place, one that bends toward peace and justice for him, his memory, and all of Palestine. Let God shine a light on his soul.”