madly in love with Iraq

Dear Baghdad

2008-03-23T20:11:00.002Z

You’ve always been my title although I’ve never used your name as one.

Five years has passed, five years of you being torn apart and drained off.
We were told it is the dead line for you to turn into heaven and look what is happening all over the world because of you and what is hidden is far greater.

So are you finally taking vengeance?

Every morning we wake up to a new crisis.

Where shall I start? What happened to the promised stable oil prices? Where is the flourishing Global economy? Or maybe we should speak about the peaceful world that will live happily ever after?

“Five years! That is too long, stop being pessimists. We are free from fear now and we’ll make it up quickly, we have resources of all kinds; we will be an example to all.”

I was happy and hopeful and did not want then for anything to disturb the beautiful image I had started to paint and the happy endings I started to wish for. I wanted to forget that wars bring nothing but destruction and misery. I forgot that I’ve experienced two wars myself, I forgot that I left home because I couldn’t take another one which was looming in the air.

Iraq-Iran war slaughtered our boys. The first Gulf war destroyed our infra-structure and took more boys. The sanctions killed our children and turned us from a dignified nation to a corrupt and hungry one.

All the above was just a warm up and a preparation for the big event “The Liberation of 2003”. The aim was always there, once they set foot on this land it will be for good.

We lost nearly everything along the way. Many ordinary things have lost their meanings, we became without dreams and the days that have passed are more reassuring than the ones to come.

A lot of my friends think of me as a dreamer when I speak about Baghdad not only my friends even my own family back home. They all believe that I talk and talk but in reality I cannot live there again. I sometimes feel that it is my duty to dream for them and see matters brighter through my comfortable eyes.

I tried to forget about you Baghdad but you are like a curse you keep on controlling my life and many others. The people who hurt you are paying dearly and the people who were hurt because of you are paying even greater.

I met her a while ago, my friend’s sister; just arrived from Baghdad, an energetic, focused young woman. She jumps and shouts and laughs from the bottom of her heart and keeps on saying “I cannot control my adrenaline; it is so high I cannot even sleep.”

Her presence brought life to our monotonous routine and stimulated a lot of our inner yearnings and memories which we continue to suppress to get along with life.

I started to look forward to our meetings because of her. Everything about her even the looks screams that she is from Baghdad.

We chose to meet on that day; the fifth anniversary of operation shock and awe.
No one of us mentioned anything, we just sat there eating and looking at the deserted tower bridge through the restaurant windows in a freezing London night.
She was very quiet through out the evening, but smiled widely when any of us directed the talk to her.
When the time had come for us to leave and when we were all busy putting our coats on, she sat on the nearest bench and started to cry softly.

I fought my usually stubborn tears as I was trying to pull her up, but she just froze in there.

In few moments a flash back of my whole life materialised in front of me, and all our losses felt so small and irrelevant compared to the biggest one, the one that we all cry for.

I will say that all nations in the developed and modern world are better than us so no one would accuse me of bigotry. These countries can give you opportunities, pay you for your hard work, justify you when you have a legal problem and above all provide you with the right of living peacefully without fear. But does anyone of us feel secure? I can bet on my life that the answer is no.

The advanced world is a loveless one; it is a cold, ruthless and functions robotically.
Everything is beautiful and immaculate but at the same time lifeless.
Our miserable world had nothing to hold it together but love.
We survived the wars with it and fought tyranny with it.
If we assume that 30% of Iraq was Saddamists the other 70% supported each other through hell by sharing their sorrows and joys with love, a romantic love not a systematic one.

The war advocates say the hate in my country was a collateral damage but it is “The damage” and maybe it was our only weapon.

Love is our real loss; love is what my friend was crying for.

In the coffee shop

2008-03-05T21:11:00.002Z

There was a loud argument and a scraping noise of chairs being dragged around as I sat in the busy but usually quiet coffee shop. I looked up as everyone else in there did and saw two young women fighting over an empty space, each one claiming being there first.

The winner settled herself next to me huffing and puffing, then she lifted her big canvas bag up and placed it on the counter top. She looked at me apologetically and said “Sorry, but some people really makes one lose it”.

“No accent whatsoever” I thought to myself, but still most likely she is from our part of the world. I was almost certain; very casually dressed with too much make-up on in the middle of the day; that is definitely our trend!

My thoughts took me back to my early days here when I used to watch women putting on make-up on the train. They would take all sorts of brushes out and start powdering and painting for ages, and when they finally finish and look up, all you see is a glowing face with a touch of colour. They use all their skills to appear natural and convince others that this is all genuine. Unlike our women who spent probably more time painting only to prove their unnatural look.

Her voice ordering something brought me back to where I am and as she pulled her bag to take something out I got my proof! There was a badge of the late Sheikh Zayed’s -of U.A.E- face clipped to her bag. And before I lowered my head back, I caught a glimpse of something else which made my stomach turn; a bigger badge of Saddam in his military uniform and sunglasses staring back at me.

Without thinking I asked her “Do you think that you are doing Sheikh Zayed justice putting them together?” She was a bit taken but immediately replied “They are both my heroes, one of peace and one of war”.
“And which war you consider Saddam was a hero of?” She quickly said “All of them, all of them, if he was here today Iraq would have been in a much better state and Israel wouldn’t dare do what it is doing now”.

“Let us go back a little please” I said “What about Kuwait? Do you think it was the right move? It would have happened to your country easily if he had had the opportunity.”

“I hate Kuwaitis and they deserve what happened to them, you know what we call them back home; the Jews of the Arabian Gulf.”

“So you are justifying that war in favour of Saddam?” She looked at me and said “He is a real man do you understand that, what we have in the Gulf is a bunch of cowards hiding under their cloaks and behind the Americans and all they do is say yes and bow their heads to their masters.”

“So you are after machismo men Rambo style I mean, a lot of blood without reason right?”

She puffed again and said “Listen, maybe you think I am shallow and ignorant, but you are wrong, I do care. I haven’t slept for a week now thinking of the people in Gaza and what is happening to them, thinking of the silence of all Worlds first, second and third towards this ongoing tragedy. We need a hero I tell you this is our only solution.”

“Can’t we think of a hero like Mandela rather than Saddam?”
“No we cannot, Mandela fought his peaceful war without foreign troops invading his land and missiles striking his city. His country doesn’t represent a threat to the first World interests and there is no Israel there to protect either.”

After I left I thought a lot of the hero or the real man concept and how mine at least has changed completely. Back home the Bedouin style of men who protect and defend using their muscles and force their rules used to be my type and probably everyone else’s even if we denied it then.

This woman is no exception. All Iraqis say we need a strong man running the government at this stage, and you can tell that what they mean is strong and ruthless physically rather than anything else.

One day I was walking with a man in here and we could see from a distance a group of teenagers shouting and laughing, so he suggested that we cross to the other side.
When we did I felt upset and he could sense that and asked me whether I would have preferred him to walk through them and beat them up to prove he is manly enough to take a woman out.
I felt so ashamed of myself and since then I learned my lesson.

Here people who use their hands are considered thugs, and beating someone could lead to a serious criminal conviction.

Even women, it did not take me long to realise that people get very distracted when I gesticulate while speaking- a very Arabic habit- and some even find it offensive, so I started to sit on my hands or fold them before I start any conversation.

I had no intention of hurting anyone of course but getting rid of this habit calmed me down somehow, and I started to concentrate more on what I am saying and became a good listener as well.

Later that evening I did not feel that confident about my conversation with the woman in the coffee shop and not even with my thoughts afterwards. I’ve been judgmental again and what I do support now did not come from nothing. I practice it because I can afford to.

People of Gaza or Iraq or Lebanon have very little choice and for the brains to win over the muscles the road is still too long.

One Sunday morning

2008-01-17T17:04:00.000Z

Someone somewhere has once said “There will be no democracy and no freedom in the Middle East till men learn how to respect women and look at them as partners not inferiors”.

I thought of that very late on Sunday night as I was trying to calm myself down over a matter that took place earlier in the day.

I’ve never been in this situation before; I hear, read and probably see but never a direct involvement. These things happen far away from me, with people I don’t mingle with.

It all started two years ago, when we happened to have a vacancy at work; I did not even know she was looking for a job. When she asked, I took her C.V. to our personnel manager, who later contacted her, and after going through the usual procedure, she was offered the post.

H is a highly qualified Iraqi woman and has been in this country for over twenty years. Three of her four children were born and raised in the UK.

I always liked her for being so professional and serious but at the same time bubbly, chatty and easy going. And although we worked in different departments and rarely meet I did hear that she was doing well.

Suddenly and after two years she decided to quit due to personal problems.

In spite of being distant relatives, we were never close. We meet probably once or twice a year on special occasions, so I couldn’t even bring myself to ask why she took this decision.

Sitting on my confession armchair sipping my coffee peacefully on a sunny Sunday morning I received the dreadful phone call. The man introduced himself as Abu A (the father of); he guessed that his title did not click, so he said “the husband of H”.
For a second I thought something bad has happened to her, so I greeted him warmly and waited for him to proceed.
“I want you to keep the relation with my wife to the minimum, and I demand that she hear no news from work, and I mean it nothing whatsoever. This work of yours has ruined our life”.
I tried to say something but felt my mouth dry somehow. He barked again “A respectable woman with Hejab (headscarf) wouldn’t allow herself to take photos with half naked people in the Hyde Park, would she? And on top receive phone calls from men clients outside working hours, and when I ask her who the hell were they, she says Mr so or Dr so, and he sarcastically said; Do they phone you as well hala?
She has no respect to the Muslim outfit she wears, no respect to the veil over her head. If it wasn’t for our two young girls who still need her, I would have taken a completely different action”.
My body was shaking as I put the phone down, and I tried to put a face to this man whom I met once or twice before, but I failed.
I thought of her, how could a woman of her calibre accept a vulgar man like that?
How could he accuse his wife and partner for so many years of being shameless and irresponsible?

Didn’t it occur to him that he lives in the UK and not in Iran or Saudi Arabia? Or that we are a minority in here and it is quite impossible to avoid being with natives and not interact with them? And above all we have to accept how they are and not the other way round.

Men of his ilk are already ruling the country, and women like H are still accepting the status quo.

How on earth are we going to fight the invaders when our brains are already invaded and infested by those silly and obsolete traditions? How could we progress and stand up when half and maybe more of the society is paralysed?

No wonder Bush dared to come all the way to tell us who our enemy is. In fact he is dictating and we are bowing “Israel is your friend, Iran is your enemy”. How could we agree? How could we explain it other than Arabs hate Iran full stop exactly as they think of women as useless and again full stop!

They don’t want to think for a minute that Iran regardless of what it represents is a neighbour forever and a power we need, to have our say and tell Bush to shut up and go back to where he came from.

What he said was a load of nonsense about a prospective threat against an existing one. What we are witnessing is a gross insult to our sacrifices and a disgrace to all the innocent lives we lost in Iraq and Palestine and Lebanon.

Sometimes I feel it is a nightmare, it cannot be true. Is politics so complicated or is it that I and million others are dumb? Why do we choose to fight powerlessly when we have a strategic and economic power?

What more could happen to break these fossilized brains that are controlling our lives and our destinies?

As I put my head down I ended up feeling sorry not only for H but for all of us, and I thought if we cannot get rid of the full stop mentality and start using question marks and exclamation marks, we will continue our journey to hell.....that is if we are not already in it.

Again on the train

2007-11-23T21:05:00.000Z

Getting home from work last night was disastrous; I couldn’t get into any train. Trains kept on arriving to the platform packed with football fans heading to Wembley stadium. The kick off was at 8:00pm, England vs. Croatia.

When I finally managed to climb into one, I was squashed between the Brits and the Eastern Europeans; both screaming their heads off cheering their respective teams and desperately trying to overrule inside the train.

Policemen were on alert and I could see quite a few of them in every station we passed on the way.
The whole atmosphere felt a bit hostile, many people were already drunk and were arguing about a match that has not started yet.

It was a bit scary for me, but at the same time a nice change to the expressionless faces I meet on my daily journeys including my own…

London is full of emigrants who mostly came over to stay, but lately jobseekers from poorer European countries joined in. The majority of the latter are here to make money and go back home, but in the meanwhile they are here and they are bringing their culture, habits, problems, and certainly their own football supporters.

I remembered the experience of having nearly three million Egyptians in the eighties working in Iraq. People were so resentful of them although they are Muslims and Arabs, for a simple reason and that is that they enjoyed more rights than us Iraqis.

I think the Brits would have the same feelings towards emigrants if they were to pay fewer taxes than they do.

“A rainbow society” that is what the anti-racial enthusiasts call the UK.
Or “An open market for all” as the government defends its policy of allowing foreigners in; “This work force boosts our economy and the benefits gained outdo all the mischief if any”.

Others find this combination “A recipe to kill” too many conflicting cultures, too many strange ethics and religions to cope with. Too much money is spent to accommodate their demands, even some laws and regulations had to be changed to fit their needs.

No grudges though, I am yet to meet someone who cries over the past or the good old days.
Old people might do but only because they are getting older, but mostly everyone believe in the natural social and economical progression in the society and accept the consequences whether good or bad.

In contrast we Arabs in general and Iraqis in particular trust the past more than the future.

It is only us who constantly look back and glorify the past. People now yearn for Saddam’s time and during his time they used to long for the sixties and in the sixties they wished the monarchy would rise again and so on.

Probably some would say it is unfair to put the blame on people when they are governed by brutal dictatorships and subjected to a lot of unjustness.

But I have become to believe that we Arabs are always afraid of losing our traditions and we grab in them blindly. Arabs don’t accept any criticism when it comes to religion or even sect. The majority of us live in cocoons even when we leave our countries.

We spend a life time struggling between what is forbidden (religion) and what is acceptable and not acceptable (tradition) and we end up losing on both.

We want to change but under our own conditions and changes are in most of the times unconditional.

However, and although I sincerely believe that people are the same all over the world, and their reactions and behaviour depend on how fairly they are treated, but unfortunately we are so used to being oppressed that we cannot function properly even when we taste freedom.

As Londoners cried all night over what they called a “disgraceful loss” of a very important match, they woke up the next morning and pinpointed the reason!
“We need home grown talents to rescue our national game”.

I thought of home, I thought of how long it would take to grow new Iraqis, how long it would take to demolish the concrete barriers between our areas, how long it would take to reinstate trust and love and most importantly how long it would take to reach enlightenment.

Republic of Kurdistan

2007-08-12T18:59:00.000Z

Rubbing shoulders with Iraq… the every summer urge that consumes all my savings and completely drains me emotionally and physically; took me inside Iraq this year rather than around it….it was not easy for my family but in the end it was much worth it.

When I arrived to Erbil airport I smelled the air of home and the scorching heat stung me immediately but I was happy and willing to get stung and stung again.

The surprise was how primitive the airport is and yet still acceptable for an international airline to land in. But when I remembered the money I paid for the ticket, it became clear. Let’s drain Iraq while it is possible.

My family required a Kurdish guarantor who drove over to the borders of Kurdistan in order to let them in. They also had a letter with their names including the children so we could move around.
The highlights of the trip were the check points; considering there is one every 10-15 minutes drive. Each represented a government of its own. The secret word was “ARABS”, the minute the police hear this magical word we had to leave the car and had our IDs checked and then grilled with questions and told off for not speaking Kurdish!

The worst was when we tried to enter Duhuk (a prosperous city up north) coming from Erbil. We were refused entry by two check points and we had to change our way and enter the city through the route coming from Mosul! Why? I don’t know. And the officer had the cheek to tell us that without my British passport he wouldn’t let us in.

When people heard we came from Baghdad, a mixture of panic and sympathy overwhelms them. “How are you coping? How do you live? How did they allow you to enter Kurdistan?”
They all looked at as with sorrow as if we were carrying a deadly disease, and would start to eulogise Baghdad and how great it used to be.
I used to boil hearing them speaking about my city in the past tense as if it was dead.

Can we blame them? I could, but my family wouldn’t, my mother would say “They are right, not even animals can survive in Baghdad”.

You cannot help feeling that everyone in Kurdistan let alone the whole neighbouring countries had learned their lesson from what had happened to us, and has become very vigilant and is trying hard not to let the tide of terror flow inside their borders.

Kurdistan is closed for tourism from all over Iraq this year, and it really hit them hard, but they are happy with the safety and the security they are enjoying.
I did not hear one shot! No helicopters roamed the skies, not a single American in uniform in there and on top you don’t see one worrying eye.
It is amazing how only in a three hour drive from Baghdad you find yourself in a safe haven.

The impression that stayed with me all the way through the trip was that I am in a place without history, as if nothing has happened in there before. No traces of the past whatsoever. No crafts of any kind; not even the simplest things like wooden spoons, urns or hand made carpets, and when you ask; the reply would be a laugh and a mocking smile about a past no one seems to want to recall.

What you cannot miss noticing is the Turkish invasion! Everything is imported from there, ice cream, dairy products, all food and vegetables, clothing, fuel, most of the engineering works contractors and there are even private Turkish schools!

The threat of a Turkish military action is probably a joke, considering the money visibly involved, and I am sure there is a lot going on behind the scenes.

There is nothing wrong with importing if you have the money, but I always thought of it as a comfort and a luxury. Not being able to produce the basic necessities or at least maintain and recover what you had before raises a big question mark. What about creating jobs? Or support the agriculture?
Saddam burned a lot of fields and he really damaged the land as he did to the people alike, but I cannot say that I saw any sign of something is being done about it, and I hope I am wrong.

When you ask where to go inside the cities, you are immediately directed to the shopping malls; not surprisingly owned by the new rulers! “The Barazanis”. The prices in one of them in Duhuk were marked in dollars, and believe it or not it was much more expensive than what we have in London.
Most of our money went on fuel and transport, one jerry can of petrol costs around $22. No one bought from petrol stations though as they are private and the prices in them vary dramatically. They all depend on road vendors who smuggle the fuel or buy it cheaper from other places.

On the personal level, I found my brother and his family really tired and confused, and what hurt me the most is they have completely given up. The children speak of death even when they joke with each other.
At one time my 10years old niece sat in the roof at 3:00pm reading a book in the sun when the electricity went off. I cried when I saw how those children have become so adaptable to not having the basic in their lives like water and electricity.
The electricity is much better than Baghdad, and there were industrial generators all over to provide the people during cut-offs.
It is embarrasing to say; but I am used to easy life now, although I did not show it, and acted bravely all the way, but I did spend my afternoons in the bath pouring the freezing stream water from the mains all over me.
It is degrading and humiliating that at this time and age people have to live in this way, running after what we take for granted.

The best fun for all was going out at night to have a meal in one of the traditional restaurants in the resort where we were staying. The children sang and danced walking back and took photos to show their friends.

We skipped the so called modern cities and hit the mountains and the beautiful nature; my mother remembering her honeymoon, me and my brother our childhood and the children discovering the Iraq they don’t know anything about.

I did not leave any opportunity to remind them that Iraq has a beautiful side to it and here are the proofs!

Below used to be an observatory built in the early eighties, it has two holes from being bombed during the Iraq-Iran war. I am not sure of Saddam's intentions (millions were spent ) in building it! but it is abandoned and yet it was impossible to get nearer

A village on the way

My favorite groccer Nourridine; he promised all his products are local!

Duhuk

A funfair in Rawandouz

Jundian

Beakhal water falls

The pomegranate

2007-06-17T15:12:00.000Z

The Fruit of the moment!
The pomegranate is the most fashionable, the most expensive and the talk of town and health magazines now a day in the UK at least.

To buy a small salad tub with few pomegranate seeds scattered on top will cost you much more than usual. If you want to impress people, sprinkle some on top of dips, fruit salads and even rice and wow you will look so cool and really with it.

For me the sight of pomegranates takes me years and years back to my childhood when these fruits would stay in the basket untouched till my dear mother wash them, take the seeds out and put them in a large bowl in the fridge. Only then I would grab a spoon and dig it in the bowl and start eating and eating till I finish it off.
“Shut the fridge door, or take the bowl out and eat as you like” my mother would say.
“Just few spoons more and I am up” my usual answer used to be. They were so addictive and had this sour sweet taste that you cannot get enough of.

Poor Brits, they think they are eating pomegranates, while in fact they are eating something that looks like them, but far from the real taste, I wish they can try the ones grown in Baqouba or Karbala, they will know then that they’ve been cheated out of their money and taste!

This goes for nearly every other fruit or vegetable. Tomatoes are the best example, you find cherry tomatoes, beef tomatoes, plum tomatoes and tomatoes on vine leaves, and really they should be called cherry plastics or plum plastics. Where are they from our shapeless, disfigured, dented and full of spots ones?
Our ugly tomatoes full of juice and flavour will put all others in shame!

I once paid a fortune in an Italian restaurant to eat samples of few truffles brought all the way from Tuscany in Italy, and were served to me in such a fuss as if I was about to eat pieces of gold!
Oh my dear Iraq, if only they’ve tasted your muddy truffles that we used to buy in big sacs and spent ages to clean.

The last but not least are the Californian dates!!!! I feel sorry for whoever is gullible enough to spend a penny on buying them.
How unfair, the land of dates is on hold at the moment and has left the field to the amateurs to have a go.

You can spend millions to grow whatever you want, but money cannot buy you a fertile land of thousands and thousands of years, money cannot buy you water from the Tigris and the Euphrates, let alone the natural farming skills that are far from sophistication and high tech but full of hard work and genuine love to the land they inherited and never thought they would have to leave one day.

We the people of Iraq are exactly like our crops! Rough, tough, harsh and scarred, but once you open them up, you see the real flavour of kindness, generosity and genuineness.

The other day I watched a programme made by a British journalist embedded with the American forces stationed in Al Doura area in Baghdad.
One of the officers speaking of his hard and dangerous mission said that he doesn’t respect the people who live in this area, and that he will do so only when they will inform about the criminals who are planting roadside bombs!

His face and words stayed with me for days. At first I was angry and upset, and then I thought of how much this man knows about real fear and danger?

He was never brought up in a culture of fear and injustice that is for one, and he never experienced the feeling of losing a family member out of retribution that is second, and third his assumption that those people should have trust in him is baseless.

Then I sympathised with him and felt that probably he believes he is doing good, but in reality he is been cheated and his country has served him with plastic tomatoes instead of the real ones.

Look at them Bush and Blair and the rest, they come out well groomed and in their expensive suits speaking of peace and terrorist free world, and the truth is there is no difference between them and the masked men who slaughter people on TV. Actually those men are their own making. The only difference is the first sleep in comfortable and lavish beds and the latter sleep in caves. I bet they have the same nightmares though. They both carry the weight of our blood; assuming they are human beings and have feelings, which I doubt.

You know they came all the way to destroy the real taste, the real flavour of Iraq and with this they want to convince the world that there is no taste but their own.
Whoever agrees to theirs is great and moderate, the rest are evil and should be uprooted.

They are winning though, they brought their best fertilizers and advanced tools and planted the seed of hate successfully.

It is growing, but I have faith in our land, I have faith it will reject this weed and reserve the real seed.

Ali's Birthday

2007-05-28T17:45:00.000Z

Poor brother, my heart tightens every time I speak to him over the phone; not that he complains or shares any of his problems with me, but rather for saying nothing…
The more silent he is the more worried I get.

I still make relentless efforts to draw a nice picture of home and think of the bad situation as temporary sometimes, and hopeful in another. And out of pure selfishness I avoid asking details about their daily life. In contrast, and out of pure self denial my brother never conveys any of their hardships, and if he does; he puts it so gently like a pat on the shoulder “Have faith my little sister, everything will be fine”.

I called on his birthday last week; he came first on the phone, very unusual of him, but no one seemed in the mood of talking, I sang happy Birthday to him and finished by asking him for a wish!

“I wish I never grew up” he said “It is against nature that I lived a better life than my kids. They don’t know how to cycle, swim or even swing. When I manage to take them out, I tell them about imaginary places and events that took place on this spot or that. I could see their jaws drop in disbelief, and my youngest insists that I repeat those fairy tales at bedtime!”

Jokingly and to lighten the conversation up I said “Ali do you still remember your birthday parties? They were so special, like festivals, you were such a spoilt brat. I still remember how you used to beat me up afterwards for opening your presents while you were busy playing with your pals.”

On the eve of Ali’s birthday there was a massive attack on a near by Embassy that I thought was abandoned, but apparently it is functioning in full-scale according to a well-informed friend of mine!

My family has no choice but to sleep on the roof at night as the house has turned to a Turkish bath already, and when the shooting started they hurried down carrying the children as the streets around us were filled with police, militias, and army no one knows firing at all directions. Few hours later our house was raided for the third time in the last six weeks.

Then my nephew took the phone and started to give me details about what for him was an adventure and a real life play station!

“Untie, you know two days ago my friend H and his family had to leave their house which is about 10 minutes walk from ours, after being threatened through megaphones to abandon the whole area.” He started to give me directions to their place, but I couldn’t tell where; the new landmarks are new to me.

“Untie you know our headmaster and quite a few students are from…..(city in Iraq) and I found out that all people from that city are bad and stupid, I really hate them and I am happy this is my last year in school”.

So we are finally there, sectarianism has reached not only our area but our own door step! We are not Baghdadis anymore; Baghdad became too small to contain us all, and the new generation already confirming this as a fact.

I’ve been asking my mother the same question for the last ten years and that is whether my choice of leaving Iraq was right or wrong. She never answered me and when I press harder she would say “There is no way I can say to you that you are not welcomed to come back. It is your house and you have every right to be here.”

I feel now that I am in the same position, I fear for them terribly but I cannot bring myself to ask them to leave.

If they leave there will be no coming back. I am selfish I now, I want them to hang in there and wait for me…..

I hang up the phone and called a neighbour to get more details, just to find out that only the grandparents were there! They left all of them.
The woman said “We started to hate this place, we don’t know it anymore, when we go out I see no familiar faces, if I look up I see only shutters and rubbish, so I bend down and get back quickly. We are leaving as well by the end of the month, pray for us.”

I quickly left my house after those distressing telephone calls and went for a walk.
I looked at the shops, cafes and buses and wondered whether I love this place or at least feel connected to it somehow, and there I saw it; a new shop which I’ve never seen before!

It is named after the city I originally come from… Najaf...

Could this be a sign that I am going home soon? Or is it another proof that people are still settling and giving up on Iraq?

When I came back, I stood outside my house and said to it “You are just a station in my life, I appreciate having you but I don’t love you, call me ungrateful, a traitor, and say that I used you, but it is out of my control my first love will always win.”

Whistle blowing

2007-05-17T20:03:00.000Z

Just you wait Sirs and Madams, residents of H……Lodge!
I was boiling with anger reading a forwarded e-mail from P my only ally in the block of flats where I live.

How dare they meet and agree on a new management of lease-holders behind my back?
Haven’t I been living in here for the last 10 years? Don’t I pay my mortgage, my council tax and my service charge as all of them do? What right they posses that I don’t? Or is it the foreigner dilemma again?

Upset was not the right word to describe my state; cheated? Looked down at?
Fooled after all these year? I guess I felt much worse…

Self-pity controlled me for two days; I started picking on people and wondered about the real meaning behind their said words, and whatever had hurt me for the last ten years came to life again, sizzling and ready to explode.

I even lost it in the gym which is supposedly the only relaxing place in this city, when a woman asked where I learned to hula hoop, and I said “back home at my school in Baghdad”, she nodded alright; but I did not like the expression on her face, I thought it was of disbelief and mockery, and I had to straighten matters up and lectured her on Iraq before and after.

The worse feeling I usually endure when I’m down like this, is guilt.
How can I allow myself to complain and feel bad when my people are living in Stone Age conditions? Expecting death at any minute, and have nothing to look forward to? Shouldn’t I be thankful to be here instead of moaning?

To hell I said to myself, let them manage as they like and leave me engulfed in my own worries and sorrows. What is it for me anyway? It is all about the wheelie bins, recycling crates and saving the environment.
The hypocrites, what about the pollution they are causing in my country? One bomb is enough to ruin all the plans to save the world from global warming.

What do I need from all this waffle? Those people are creating myths out of war on terror on one hand and saving the globe on the other and who knows what is next?

I told these neighbours of mine long time ago that I come from a country that has a neighbour ethic. It is a disgrace to hurt abuse or spy on the person who lives in your area. I said it confidently then, but can I do that now?

I used to brag about how warm, sincere and genuine Iraqis are, when compared to this regimental society where everything has to be written and documented even with the closest people…neighbours.

Then I remembered the whistle blowing…

The following day I wrote a short letter to the management describing my concern about the behaviour of some residents who insist on excluding me from their meetings without any apparent reason and with my letter I enclosed a copy of “Diversity and equal opportunity policy” which dominates most businesses in this country.

I felt it was a silly act, or at least it was not a me act; but this is how it works and I have a right which has to be activated and made use of.

A week later I received a letter calling for a new meeting of residents to choose a new management!

On the day, I went into the place confidently although inside I felt a bit shaky, I looked in their faces which revealed nothing as usual, and was greeted with the normal chats.

The discussions went on and on and we finally agreed on what was agreed upon few weeks back when my esteemed self wasn’t present! and we finished with all smiles and best wishes.

As I walked home I thought of how much there is yet to learn from those people.
Inside of them there is a lot going on, but so little is said.

I am still trying what else can I do? At least I blew the whistle…

Sarrafiyah Bridge...

2007-04-12T21:52:00.000Z

“It was designed using a very high factor of safety, on the assumption that it would stand the weight of a row of fully armoured tanks standing still on the bridge for at least an hour!”

Prof. Sam’an explained in one of his structural design lectures back in the good old days in Baghdad University.
“Now we stopped using the BS code (British standards) and moved on to follow the ACI code (American concrete institute) which adapts a much lower safety factor and consequently is more cost effective.”

No wonder why I insisted as a child to cross the Sarrafiyah to the other side of the river rather than any other Bridge. Something in its huge concrete pillars and its overlapping steel bars brought confidence and security.

My late Uncle used to tell me stories of diving competitions back in the fifties which he personally participated in, in an effort to convince me to swim in deep waters.
Stories which I was never able to verify as my mother denied them completely.
But yet they are still engraved in my memory.

I remember sticking my head out of the car window every time we cross and wish a train would pass along the abandoned railway track by the side of the bridge. Freight trains used to cross I was told; but I never saw one. I hope this is not an imaginary thought as I couldn’t see any tracks on the pictures of its partial collapse today.

I came across many Sarrafiyah style bridges in Britain especially in small villages in the country side and it always made me feel nostalgic and sometimes proud.

But they were never like our Sarrafiyah which towers the river Tigris and with the effect of the everlasting sunshine reflects the palm trees line along the bank on the water surface.

Just over the weekend I watched a series of interviews with ex-Iraqi Army top commanders testifying on what had happened to their troops during March 2003.
One of them said “All the measurements we took before the war to conceal our arms and tanks in camouflaged warehouses were in vain. Everything was bombed in the first few days of the war. The jet fighters have density sensitive sensors which helped aiming at the correct targets. ”

I am fed up with the blame game, but any reasonable judgment has to raise the question of how the most advanced and hi-tech army in the world is failing miserably to detect where these tons of bombs are coming from or at least where they are stored!

Nothing left in our Baghdad. The evil Goddess demands more and more; too many sacrifices were given but the Goddess is still not satisfied. We tried human beings to protect our heritage and failed, we left our houses and our areas and it did not work either.

No factor of safety seems to work; not British and certainly not American. Whatever we were taught seems useless and laughable.

If we only knew then maybe we would have established a new code and call it IABC (Iraqi anti-bombs code)! I wish...

The handsome

2007-04-09T20:14:00.000Z

They say 90% of people don’t enjoy their jobs, or at least find them boring. Unfortunately I fall under this category. The only merit is the friendly and positive atmosphere at my work place, which I find extremely important considering the long hours I spend in there.

Last week and in one of yet another boring meetings outside the office I met up with this man who attracted my attention instantly for no reason other than being very handsome!
He walked in with a Newspaper under his arm and a big smile on his face.
His name indicated that he is from one of them countries, I mean the ill-fated ones, and as much as I dislike getting involved in personal matters, my mission that day was all about getting personal.

The smile disappeared from his face the minute I asked where is he originally from.
He lowered his face and said “Iran…and gazed at the Newspaper, not this Iran though”. I took a look at the paper and saw the captured woman sailor with a veil staring back at me.

“I am Christian you know, I don’t agree to what has happened”.
His name was Mohammed….
“I belong here in the civilised world, where I have rights, where I see top ministers apologize and resign following train accidents or alleged corruptions. Here is where I want to be, where security and law prevail”.

I looked at his now angry face and wanted to say “You idiot are so concerned about trains and corruptions and don’t give a damn why those same ministers wouldn’t have the decency to apologize for the catastrophic situation their government had inflicted on the whole area.”

A new comer I thought doing his bits to impress, so I said “Nice to meet you Mr, and by the way I come from Iraq”.

“I am a peaceful man, I hate wars. I’ve been in one that is with Iraq and I cannot bear these mind games and muscle flexing that could by a small flip ruin our lives all over again”.

I felt sorry for him, he has a long way to go, a lot to learn and adapt to and much longer to reach the same conclusion “Nowhere is like home”.

I wanted to tell him that here is no better than there. People are the same and religions are the same, I wanted to stretch my hand to him and speak of my experience, but I know better don’t I? People have to go through their own and learn from it the hard way.

There was a knock on the door and a young veiled girl peeked in “Dad, we are late shall we go without you?” he snapped back in Farsi “I am coming, and cover yourself properly!”

“Cover yourself” is the only term I know in Farsi and it goes back to my childhood when we used to visit my grandfather’s house in Najaf and in there lived “Mehri” an Iranian old woman who was a fixed fixture in that house till her death in 1995.

To reach a point where you feel you hate your life, your religion and your future is something only people from that area know exactly what it is.

At work when I was asked my opinion about the British seamen capture, I answered back with a question “What were they doing in there in the first place? And why on earth should we believe the Brits story rather than the Iranians? Haven’t they lied enough so far?”

But in spite of what I said I found myself in the same circle; Iraqis at the moment hate whatever the Iranians do because of their interference in our affairs, and the Iranians hate their government because they are hungry not only for food but for freedom and social rights.

We despise our governments and love our countries like a mother nursing her sick child, while in here they respect and love the system and don’t care much about being in love with the country.

This is the secret I thought, when law and justice rule, people would feel confident to support or at least oppose in a civilised manner. While back in the Middle East we are against and in doubt all the time and that is why we are extremes.
Saddam (May he rot in hell) used to give money to the Palestinians at a point where Iraq was dying under the sanctions. The act itself was justified in the eyes of everyone apart from the Iraqis.

I wanted to say that Iran has the right to nuclear power; Israel having one would be a very good reason for me. But for Iranians it means a threat of war let alone spending money that should be invested in them the people of Iran.

On my way back to work and swallowed up in my thoughts as usual I sensed something was not right “What on earth are those people staring at?”
Without turning my head I took a quick glimpse of the person sitting next to me, and there he was Ken Livingstone the mayor of London commuting with us in the underground on his way to work. In fact I could feel his elbow touching mine on the hand-rest!

Would I live to the day when I see this happening in Iraq?
A day where power is in the hands of Iraqis and whoever hold it does that for a short while and pass it to others?

I was tempted to ask him his opinion, but I found him also in deep thought thinking probably of the Olympics and of new ways to tax Londoners to pay for it!

The sound of silence

2007-03-09T00:20:00.000Z

“Happy women’s day” I said it over the phone to the few friends I have left in Baghdad.

F’s cheerful laugh echoed back as usual “I don’t believe you phoned just to say that, darling take me off your greetings list, I am in hibernation.”

“Have you lost hope completely?” I asked.

“I don’t know, but hope means expecting something to happen and get frustrated if it doesn’t. I am really fed up with this game, I prefer to get along with the idea that this situation will last forever and I have to live it as it comes. This is my new philosophy.”

Sensing her good mood I said “What about love? Are you still madly in love with him?” Another cracking laugh pierced my ear “Of course I am, and worse than ever! My heart actually still throbs when I hear his keys opening the front door."

She went on "Tell you what, in spite of all; I feel lucky I managed to fall in love. Look at this generation not only there is no way for them to live a normal life, but somebody is poisoning their brains and killing their future dreams. A programme on a so-called secular and liberal channel broadcasted last week, was implying that love is safer if it comes after marriage for young women! And pressed at least three times that men were born with the ability to love more than one!”

A, my other friend’s answer to my greetings was “You know what; all I dream of is silence. No bombs, no shooting, no sirens, no generators, no news and even no calls for prayer. I reached a point where I wish I could strangle my children just to shut them up."
"The day of silence would be my day, if I managed to live till it comes.”

S, a divorcee with two small children is still working because she has to. She still drives as well, “It is really tough, but I prefer it to sitting at home. My only problem is the guilt. If I got killed my children would have no one.”
“Do you remember how anti-men I used to be in the good old days? Now I am not. We are equals at last. Bombs and mortars do not discriminate, so probably they deserve a men’s day as well”.

The last call I made was to another A, the only one deeply involved in politics!
That is if women’s’ associations and orphanages are considered politics!
Actually I phoned in reply to her greeting e-mail which made me feel bad for not taking the initiative.

Her drained voice reflected her worries and defeat, but as soon as she recognised my voice she said “It is tough but we will get there. We have to compromise, bend and twist just to keep things going. There are constant clashes, and the hope to work as a team looks far fetched.
To be frank and direct, religion is our big obstacle; every little issue has to be channelled through its narrow tubes.”

“Is there any hope for women?” I asked.
There was a moment of silence then she said “Maybe when we manage to convince the nation that we are better. At least women are mothers first and there is no way they would allow these killings. You cannot imagine a woman running a militia can you?”

I laughed and said “I miss Baghdad” and her immediate reply was “Me too”.

The monster

2007-03-06T23:10:00.000Z

“He is rich that is why” a very wise friend whispered in my ear; watching my puzzled eyes and fidgety movements.
Everybody was surrounding him laughing and cheering at his silly jokes, praising him for taking smart business decisions which sounded really dumb choices by any standards.

The amount of nonsense was unbearable and looking at all these people whom I respect and thought of as interesting and principled made it feel worse.
However, my wise friend’s comment said it all and managed to put a smile on my face…at least for a short while.

I remembered this gathering which happened long time ago while watching King Abdullah of Saudi Arabia sitting in between the Palestinian competing parties in an effort to bring them to reach an understanding. For sure this idiot has no wisdom to offer rather than money and more money to settle a matter he promised his masters to solve.

When I think of the contributions Saudis have made to the Arab countries let alone to the World, I find myself cornered with money for the wrong purpose.
Al-Qaeda and Salafis ideologies were the only product of their finance, and while exporting this idiocy to Iraq and Afghanistan and the rest, they sit there as their partners in the Gulf states safe and happy buying off these criminals and sponsoring them to keep their dirty hands off their cities.

They have been throwing money for decades to build up radical Islam and hate towards others. They actually succeeded in killing tolerance in one of the most stable societies like Egypt.

They shamelessly donated money to London zoo few years back and keep on pampering royals from all over with expensive jewellery.

The rest of the money they spend lavishly and disgracefully in Europe and America to enjoy what their own code of beliefs forbids!

We hear all the time of distinguished Arab doctors, scientists or engineers and professors working all over the world, but you rarely hear of any from this great Kingdom. We only hear of them as “dodgy business men” or suicide bombers.

As I watched the execution of 14 Iraqi police men by Al-Qaeda in Mesopotamia hearing the Quran being recited in the background, all I could see was those Saudi perverts laughing and cheering their victory

And yet Saudi Arabia is considered the head of moderate Arab states that are fighting to stabilize the area against Syria and Iran extremism!

They even got away with not condemning the Israeli assault on Lebanon last summer, and in fact managed to influence what took place as only a Shia plot to take over Lebanon!

They act as if they are the protector of Islam and Muslims as well as backing democracies anywhere else but in their own land.

This is the power of money which makes black looks white for the people who can actually differentiate and this same power is able to completely blind those who are already clueless!

I read somewhere that corruption, injustice and religious fundamentalism are only the complications of one disease and that is dictatorship.

Those are the people who are ready to burn and kill the world in order to keep things as they are.
The balance of power which they fear has been disturbed in the Middle East is a myth of their own making. No balance is what they are really after.

Well done America please continue feeding the monster till it eats you up.
How clever of you to identify where the bombs and ammunitions in Iraq are coming from at last.
While you are at it, could you please check the source of the bombs that blew up a hundred pilgrims in Hilla earlier today?

Meanwhile beware where the next bullet is coming from!

You and us!

2007-02-08T11:46:00.000Z

She attacked me without mercy as if I was a member of Maliki’s government.
“You suffered a lot, all of you so why are you taking it on others? Corpses of our people are being thrown daily in garbage bins or found floating in rivers, and we don’t even dare to collect them from the morgue. Not only that, but your esteemed government has struck a deal with the Syrians to kick all of our people back to Iraq to slaughter them”.

For a minute I couldn’t absorb what she really meant…but then it hit me.

My brain was running fast trying to capture the best reply as I sensed no room in that conversation for Iraqis as Iraqis, there was a lot of you and us.
I could see it clearly in her eyes. She demanded a confession and a confirmation from me to the horror the Shia have brought to Mesopotamia!

I decided not to answer back and switched to jokes about Al Mahdi army to ease the tension in an effort to reassure her that I don’t agree to what is going on.

And when I stupidly-trying to be funny- said to my friend that he has to pay the fifth (which is a Shia practice; an annual payment due to their clerics), she snapped angrily “We don’t pay the fifth, we pay Zakat”. And that was the knockout blow which brought the whole conversation to a halt!

This incident reminded me of an Iraqi Jewish lady I met a while ago.
She told me of her fear and confusion back in 1967 when she was a high school student in Baghdad, and how during the infamous Arab-Israeli war(The Setback of the 5th of June), all her friends turned their backs and refused to talk to her.

On my way back I felt very hurt and what worried me more was taking it personally.
Why would I feel like this? Why something which has no prominence in my identity suddenly took over? By the time I entered my house all I felt was shame.

It is terrifying this cancer that is creeping to get hold of us all.

Suddenly we became touchy about this subject, even among intellects.
Without knowing we are building a case against each other.

You read about and meet with nostalgic Iraqis who are yearning for the Iraq they had once before, the Iraq they barely knew, or to be precise they did not want to know.

Are we yearning for or crying over the sanctions? Wars? Injustice?
Is this the most of our expectations; to get back to what we had before? And especially now and after all we’ve been through?

Many people are puzzled by how contradictory our attitude is to the tolerant, loving and educated people we claim to be.

What they don’t know though is that when you are socially, economically and politically subjugated you can easily be turned to a complete backward and limited person. And it stays with you for a long time.
I will never believe that religion and ethnicity by themselves are able to command bloodshed.

Iraqis in here have brought their legacy with them. It is sad but true.
Undermining each other pains is the game now a day.

We are sandwiched between Saudis lamenting sectarianism and the Shia threat, and Iranians raging war against America and Israel.

Instead of finding a united cause to bring us together we became up for grabs for all.

We in here have a verbal war and back home an armed one.

No one knows the face of Iraq when the dust settles, but I know that most of us have failed in the most important test….the test of Love.

The house

2007-01-26T21:52:00.000Z

“What if we run out of oil?”
“That would be the day of our relief, let it dry out before it dries our blood off” My mother would say.

Last week over the phone she was quoting my late fathers’ words of forty years ago when he tried to talk her out of building a house in Baghdad “It is not worth laying one brick in this country”
“He warned me enough but I wouldn’t listen, you left and the rest of us will be forced to follow and the house will stay here and becomes a property of someone else’s”.

Knowing my mother, she will be the last to leave, she only vents when she is deeply upset.

Her brother in law, my late auntie’s husband was slaughtered last week.
A seventy three years old who stayed to guard yet another house. .

A relative kept his brother’s dead body for three days at home, too afraid to take him out of the house for burial.

"Too much death to contain, nothing is sacred anymore,If it wasn’t for the house we would have left long time ago!”

They all say that for as long as they can afford to.

And people are still wondering whether oil has been a boon or a doom.

We spent a life time dreaming of getting hold of it, touching it, depending on it and making it our security.

In the name of oil we were abused, oppressed, tortured and were sent to useless wars.
In its name we lost a fertile land, a promising industry and literally everything.

Over it we are fighting each other and because of it we are following the turbans thinking God will do us just.

Oil for us has been like a mirage we keep on running after, and would be happy to get a drop to satisfy our thirst if ever.

The truth which we don’t dare to face is that it was never ours. We guarded it for so long and now it seems we were made redundant, the real owner has arrived. We either have to leave for good or go six feet under.

Oil is the real name behind democracy, stability and eventually the New Middle East.

People are counting and disputing our death toll. People are trying to condemn this illegal war,and they want to impeach Bush and round up the culprits responsible.

The above might put a stop to any future adventure, it might arrange for an exit strategy but what about us? Not even Bush's death will solve our problem.

I’ll be lying if I say I lost hope. When you are in love it is hard to do so.

But my aims for Iraq have changed.

I want this horrifying hybrid of a government to succeed and the 21,000 extra troops to take control. All I dream of which is no different to the millions of Iraqis is damage control force.

Let them take this cursed oil and drink it to the last drop, let them leave the house unfurnished it doesn’t matter anymore.

What matter most is our blood and it is much thicker than oil.

What about them?

2007-01-15T23:16:00.000Z

Nuha’s bloody hair, her torn clothes and her expressionless face was all I thought about watching him the mighty Saddam walking to the gallows.
Sitting on a small stool in our utility room back home and me standing there shakily pouring jugs of hot water over her head while my eyes followed the red water seeping through the floor drain.

How can I forget? That was the day I joined the grown ups and my happy go lucky times had come to an end.

Nuha my friend and neighbour lost a mother, a baby nephew, and her untie when Saddam’s Special Forces bombed the old city of Karbala in March 1991.
They were all buried under the wreckage of their own house including two other people who were visiting.

In January 1991 we took refuge in my uncle’s house on the outskirts of Karbala city.
As silly as one could be at that age, I spent the horrible nights of operation desert storm praying for the next morning to come quickly so I could join my cousins on their daily errands to the old city to meet up with Nuha and her family.

I still hold nice memories of that time; walking through the narrow allies around the shrines and how easy it was to loose each other as all women wore long black cloaks over their heads including us. I was the easiest to spot by others; my cloak was almost always tilted to one side or nearly falling off my head compared to my experienced mates who held it on confidently.
We had to rush back home before the sun sets and the air raids and rockets starts to rattle the whole area.
Karbala was spared the direct bombing, but was surrounded by military industrialization factories located in nearby Latifiyya and Mahmoudiya towns.

In spite of the frightful bombing during the night, there was an aura of optimism and hope in our house and probably in all the others in the city. My oldest cousin used to jokingly asks us whenever the shelling intensifies “What do you think guys, has he (Saddam) packed yet?”

How little we knew of what was about to happen.

Two days after Saddam’s speech ordering his troops to retreat from Kuwait, the real operation desert storm started.

We were so confused watching tens of helicopters flying at low level towards the old city, we thought at first that they were American, but soon the news were spreading of an uprising and of local people taking over the city.
We watched from the roof as columns of smoke blocked our vision and we could no longer see the domes of the two shrines.
Later in the evening screams on our street took all the men in the house out where they found five injured young men who had fled to what they thought a safe area.
We spent the night the twelve of us in one room anticipating the worse. No one said anything but we could clearly hear announcements through microphones by the rebels claiming their victory and another by the Special Forces asking everyone to surrender.

By dawn we heard a terrifying blast as the hussainya (Islamic shia centre) up the road was targeted. My little 8 years old cousin started to tremble uncontrollably and half of her face was paralysed. Without a word we all apart from my uncle left the house towards the surrounding orchards.
We walked aimlessly till we reached some shacks and stayed with the farmers for few hours.

I cannot believe it myself so I am not asking anyone to do so. But we did walk with many others through out the day till we reached Hilla and then we took a car to Baghdad.

After two days Nuha and her sisters arrived barefeet wailing and screaming in the street to tell us of what has happened to them.

Three relatives of mine were killed in Najaf that same week. One of them was only fifteen years old.

All the orchards we walked through were later burned to the ground. No more palm trees, no more orange trees and no more welcoming shacks.

Last week a man from the United Arab Emirates was sitting next to me in the plane praising Saddam. He told me bluntly “He was a hawk, wasn’t he?”.
A hawk in the Arab culture in case people don’t know is a symbol of courage, strength and intelligence as well.
The more I ignored that stupid man the more he persisted. So I finally told him “Listen I will answer your question only if you answer mine."
“How did Dubai look like 35 years ago?”
“A desert” he replied “And now?” I followed “A paradise” he said.
“How you people from the UAE are treated around the world today?” He twisted his head “respectfully” “and what do you think the attitude towards Iraqis is?”
He did not answer back.

It looks like in a world of no heroism everyone wants to create a hero regardless.

I wished then that I could understand Arabs and their mentality. Every time I thought I reached an understanding, their reactions shake me to the core.

No one commented when they found the “Hawk” in a hole. And when they did; we heard the absurdity of him being drugged and dragged in there. The same when they don’t want to know or hear about the atrocities he committed, or grant them justifications of some sort.

People should be ashamed of themselves when they identify themselves with this bastard and his cronies, or even think that his punishment was a blow to some.

What national hero? What justice?

Till this day many think that the shia is a rabble backed by a bunch of clergy men and Saddam did very well by slaughtering them.

It is hard to convince those people otherwise because this belief suits everyone. It is a struggle to keep things as they were for centuries.

Shelving these issues wouldn’t work anymore; peace and stability will come to the Middle East only when the distribution of power and wealth reflects the balance between communities.

When I remember them I feel relieved that he is no more.
When I see what is happening today I feel angry because it is all because of him.

It is them whom we should glorify, it is the Iraqis who are facing death whom we should rally for.

Traditions Traditions!

2006-12-23T10:46:00.000Z

“Here watch this and keep it” and he handed me a video tape. I recall that day as if it was yesterday. I stood there perplexed looking at him for a minute then I stretched my hand took the tape and before opening my mouth, he turned his back and continued talking to the others.

“Fiddler on the roof” that was my first encounter with this movie in December 1996 and the last is yet to come!

Tevye’s “the main character” message all through the story was “Without our traditions we would find our lives as shaky as a fiddler on the roof!” For him God’s law provides the balance in our lives and from it we establish our habits and boundaries.

Keep them or get rid of them? This is the question that I could not find an answer to then and not even now.

I live in a society which is struggling to keep or bring back the lost traditions.
Traditions here are replaced by the law of man.
The balance is justice and equity nothing else.

You walk into areas in London and feel that you are in the middle of Bombay or Peking or Karachi or Istanbul and even lately downtown Baghdad.

Traditional restaurants, traditional super markets, traditional cloth shops you name it, but untraditional business rate, untraditional customers’ rights, untraditional traffic regulations and consequently all seek the untraditional law to function freely and fairly.

Some Iraqis still to this day consider mortgage haram or forbidden as it involves returning a borrowed money with interest. But in practice this is the only way to own a property in here and I believe everywhere now a days.

An old uncle who used to be merchant in the good old days still think that his word is his commitment and he doesn’t have to sign papers to prove it, but does that really work today?
It is not that “People have changed” but trade has expanded and the competition is very high people are out there to kill for money.

Last month a relative of mine came over with his wife from Iraq. I took them out one night and after I parked my car, I found out that the meter was faulty and I had to move to another bay. As we walked together, the man admired my law obedience and wished that one day Iraqis will behave this way.

I thought a lot about his comment and I wondered whether my respect to the law or my faith or my concern about the hefty fine was the reason behind my action.

A four week investigation that stunned the nation lately was the killing of five prostitutes in Ipswich, a small city that have one red light district with around fifteen prostitutes, five of them were the victims.
I am bringing this matter up because no religion agrees to prostitution.
This oldest trade in history instigate disgust and disrespect among all people. It is also known that even police despise working in cases related to this dirty business.

However when I watched the reverend of Ipswich on TV praying and asking the community to light candles for these unfortunate young women, I thought something here is different, this man wouldn’t have done this fifty years ago.

The dialogue has changed along the way not because people are better or more advanced or they practice a superior religion, but because they found out the impossibility of living with each other otherwise. You have to accept others as humans in order to be treated as one.

Unfortunately God’s law is not enough to contain, control and guide us anymore.

And while waiting for a turbaned man to utter some pearls of wisdom back home, I wish everyone and especially people in Iraq a happy Eid and a happy new year.

And here is my small contribution to the only tradition left in this country apart from drinking themselves to death!

The illusion

2006-12-10T15:12:00.000Z

My early days in College in London were terrible. A complete lack of confidence, I kept a low profile in the class, I wouldn’t answer a question even if I was 100% sure of the answer. I was taken by my out spoken colleagues and their easy going attitude. I thought to myself “Where are you from the Brits you lousy Iraqi woman”.

Even my high grades later on did not lift me up. I thought I was studying like a donkey day and night and that was the least I could get.

I used to send 30 CV’s per day applying for jobs. And I joined more than four recruitment agencies.

It took me a while to get a job, and the bad recession in the late nineties did not help.

However, my life story wouldn’t be of interest to anyone, I don’t think, but what I discovered through my journey might be.

Common sense and practicality let alone dirtying my hands in everything were the qualities that kept me going, and left a good impression wherever I worked. Not my degree or qualifications, definitely not.

Mind you, these are the qualities of most Iraqis, I brought them with me, and somehow they are built-in I cannot change them even if I want to.
I still fix the photocopier at work instead of waiting for the engineer to come over, a skill I learned back home.

In the streets of Baghdad the first thing you notice is the old Japanese cars which are still running in Iraq today after more than 30 years of their make. My people invented parts and created methods to keep them going under the sanctions.
And do they admit it? No. They still think the credit goes to the Japanese. They opened shops to sew torn tires with wires and put them back on the road. The same goes for air-conditioning and air-coolers motors and so on.
Because of the hard life and the insecurity we went through all our lives we became harder than life itself.

The set backs though are many as well; being tough is not a virtue all the time.

We have this strong belief that people in the first World think better, understand more and consequently know exactly what they are doing!

It strikes me how some very educated and reasonable Iraqis still say “We believe that America is holding all the strings, and once they decide it is over, everything will fall into place”.

Even when they admit the total failure and the unquestionable disaster, even when they genuinely believe that America and its allies are the main cause of the daily killings; they still have hope in the Almighty advanced first World.

Say Iran or Syria in any Iraqi circle and you can immediately feel the electrified vibes.
“Those criminals, they ruined our country, they sent their fighters and intelligence inside Iraq and caused these miseries”.

Of course they would. They have the right to defend their existence; otherwise they will be the next on the list. They are part of the axis of evil or am I mistaken?

But Saudis and Kuwaitis are not mentioned in our bloody story, although they are financing the destruction of Iraq.
It suits America to say Hizballah is training the Mehdi army now, and I am not here to confirm or refute, but I am emphasizing on the timing.

It took America more than a year to admit the Iranian militia’s involvement in south Iraq.
Even when they say the truth, you have to question the intention behind it.

I call the above diplomacy. The same diplomacy that Col. Gathafi of Libya used and became an angel overnight and is free now to slaughter as many people as he wants.

The long years of tyranny, wars, sanctions and the current civil war taught us a lot about how to survive, but it did not teach us one bit about how to live.

Democracy means; the ability to accept being ruled by your opponent, we couldn’t handle this so far. What we did was voting for a bunch of antagonists, and we are no better as people, we are dealing with each other on the same basis.

We’ve been very clever in identifying our enemies inside and outside the country, but how to deal with them is the question.

Should we listen to the first World diagnosis? Fight fiercely with each other? Hate and despise whoever was the cause from our neighbours?

The first World has admitted defeat and the ball is in our court to rectify the mess.

At this stage nothing but diplomacy will turn our enemies to allies.

I wish I could say love can sort out our problems, but unfortunately diplomacy was never about love, it was always about tactics.

For better and for worse

2006-11-25T19:07:00.000Z

Ali Flayih was from J’bala, a small village in between Baghdad and Hilla.

I have never heard of this village before, but staff in Al-Yarmouk Hospital in Baghdad knows Dr Flayih and J’bala very well. If a patient of the hospital says he is from J’bala, then he must have been referred by Dr Flayih.

He was a determined young man who fought hard to achieve his degree in medicine. His high grades enabled him to further his studies and become a qualified surgeon.

A shy man from a very reserved background and yet full of wit and enthusiasm.
When asked about his future wife, he insisted then on choosing a very white woman whose family were registered as Baghdadis in the 1957 census. As it was a must if you want to buy a property in Baghdad under Saddam’s reign.

He ended up marrying a brunette doctor from Najaf!

For years he travelled back and forth from his small village to Al-Yarmouk hospital in Baghdad. As security deteriorated, he decided to transfer to Hilla medical school for a teaching position in the morning, and practice in his clinic in the village as usual in the evening. He lived all his life in a mixed community and was lately upset because Wahabis were creeping into the area and accusing his people of being infidels. How could they? he said. Who are they to judge us? How dare they disturb our peaceful village?

The pride and joy of J’bala was killed last week on his way to work leaving two children and a devastated young wife.

A post that was meant to be a tribute to him and to all our invaluable academics and professionals whom we are loosing daily by death or desertion again sounds so futile compared to the recent massacres.

I’ve passed feeling upset, anger is my only sentiment. I feel as if I am facing someone I am madly in love with who went literally mad and uncontrollable. I want to slap him and wake him up or else sedate him to prevent his evil.

I don’t usually dream, but lately dreams are eating me up. Flashes from the past haunt me day and night.
If I was with my family, I would have established a survival instinct, but being very far all I do is worry about all Iraq. I worry about the trees as much as I worry about the young and old.

Our struggle is making everybody happy but us. We insist on looking for enemies rather than friends, and I wish we are identifying the right ones.

Is there a method behind this madness? I don’t believe there is, and if I am wrong, it is definitely not our method.

Look at Lebanon; they are turning to the Americans for help. Is there a limit to this stupidity?
America who authorised a war just few months back, and kept silent watching them bombed and their country falling apart, let alone fuelling the war with their arms.

Why doesn’t America put more effort to find a solution for the Palestinians?
They want to protect democracy in Lebanon, oh yes, a democracy that encourages hate and fragmentation. Look at us for heaven’s sake.

Unfortunately they are winning and their mission impossible has been achieved far much better than Tom Cruise.

One day they will leave and we will be left with a history of violence and wounds which are very hard to heal, and yet we will still be together.

Like a catholic marriage, no way out….

It is for better and for worse.

Remembrance

2006-11-15T23:33:00.000Z

She was wailing bitterly on the radio “Oh my dear boy, he was only 17, when
I heard that a British solider was killed I knew it was him, something inside me told me it was him. I signed his papers when he joined the army last year, I signed his death papers, I agreed to put my signature and register a 16years old with the bloody army”.

I felt for this mother who lives in a previously mining village where jobs are scarce, and career choices for young poor men are very slim.

Later she said “I did not know that he will be sent to this horrible country to die”.

I felt hurt, deeply hurt and switched off the radio.
My country is not horrible how dare she say that, or is it?

The next day was Remembrance Day. Newspapers were paying tributes to all dead soldiers since the First World War by listing their names and their ranks. Special prayers and speeches were held and later shown on TV.

I sat there watching, reading and wondering about our unknown soldiers and unknown victims; who will list them and pray for them? Who will compensate our children for their stolen childhood? Who will compensate our youth for the lost years?

I cannot stop myself from thinking that the prosperity and stability in here were only accomplished because countries like ours live in hell.

They initiate wars to get cheaper fuel for themselves, they starve Africa to get better food and they incite hatred to cause civil wars and find markets for their filthy arms business.

And don’t they sell it well? Exporting democracy to the third world; introducing fair-trade by backing small farms and banning child-slavery produce and last but not least selling arms through intermediaries to cover their backs.

Even when they sympathise with us, you cannot help but feel humiliated. They look at us as aliens or lower species.
When someone asks me for an explanation of what is going on and why are Iraqis killing each other, I can’t see it as an innocent question anymore.
They believe something is wrong with our race, there must be, otherwise what?

This belief somehow authorise them to think, decide and execute on our behalf.
Otherwise how do we explain An Iraqi Study Group with no Iraqi in it?
And if we skip that how come there is no military official involved in this group? Isn’t it about a country that is soaking with blood? Let alone having more than 150,000 foreign troops in there?

So we are waiting for a decision of yet another arrogant bunch of politicians to decide on how to save face or overcome the irreversible damage they caused.

And they will definitely come up with the same conclusions of how great their policy was and how difficult it was to implement it in a depraved and un-compromising society.

Why the Americans and the British have to train our police and army forces?
Our army was established in the twenties of the last century. Those two forces have to have ethics before fighting skills, our own ethics to be precise.

Why the current government is completely chained and thumbed down?

When I ask my family and friends back home whether it is better for the foreign troops to leave us alone, I find their answers more confusing. They became accustomed to the fear they know and cannot take another shock.

Writing all this really hurts me and hurt all Iraqis.
My posts and a lot of the others are becoming like obituaries, let alone some which are sinking unintentionally in the sectarian drain.

Once there was love, once there was hope and once there were memories.
Now there is nothing, and if there will come a day when this nightmare is over, I am sure no one will want to remember.

There will be no remembrance day for us.

A Mockery of Justice

2006-11-06T20:00:00.000Z

So what! This is what he deserves. A theatrical court! Again so what isn’t it better than no court at all?

A lot are worried about the injustice the trial reflected.

A simple Iraqi man had the best answer and said on TV, “Those who think of it this way have never been ruled by a dictator and simply have no idea what dictatorship means”.

It is amazing how some people in the media threatened that this verdict would open the doors of hell and would only have drastic ramifications on the already complex situation in Iraq!
I did not know that the doors were still closed! So what has been going on so far? a warm up?

We were flooded by stiff Arab analysts of very low calibre shouting and jumping on quite a few Arabic screens. Manoeuvring and twisting facts, they said all sorts of things but the truth!
I am afraid that there is only one truth and if they don’t want to acknowledge it, tough.
Mussolini and Stalin had supporters and they were cried over as well; what we have here is no difference.

Watching the reaction of some ordinary Arabs and Iraqis was another puzzle.
Their answer to the simple question of whether Saddam deserves death by hanging was by pressing another “Why not try Bush? Or Sharon?” while others “What about the thousands who are getting killed and bombed everyday? Who is going to be put on trial for them?”

As much as these are legitimate questions as much as it shows the confusion of those people on one hand and their inability to be objective on another.

Would trying Bush and Sharon make Saddam less guilty?
There are too many criminals around who deserve the same punishment if not more but isn’t punishing one is better than none?

If the decision was 100% Iraqi that is a credit to the Iraqi jurisdiction and if it was 100% an American one, then isn’t it great that Saddam was tried by his ex-partners and co-criminals? I believe this is an irony of fate.

Hasn’t anyone thought of how important it is to recognise the real cause of our conflict and who was behind it in the first place?
Let us forget about his crimes, who brought the Americans over?
If we don’t learn from the past there would be no future for us.

The western media iwas even worse, “Shia and Kurds are celebrating and Sunnis are lamenting!” How come I don’t meet with those Sunnis?

The British tried to stir up strife between Shia and Sunni from 1917 to 1958 and failed. The Iraqis natural and impulsive unity and love for each other wouldn’t allow it. While after nearly 50 years it took them few months to cause this uproar.

Who do you think is responsible for turning us to a fertile land for this?

One of our big problems is that we are incapable of employing our own tragedies and sufferings into something useful. Look at the Jews; a 60 year old holocaust is still throbbing with life and with it they gain more respect and more empathy. Till this day they still follow war criminals and invest in thousands of organisations and agencies to locate them.
And here we are after only 3 years we don’t want to know about Saddam and everybody wants to undermine this subject.

I am not ignoring the current catastrophe, but we have to start from somewhere to bring people together.

Yesterday I joined some Iraqi friends as we sat watching the events all day.
I heard some of them ridiculing the people celebrating the event on the streets, and calling them thugs, insensitive and ignorant.

When are we going to learn that sharing others pain let alone happiness will hold us together?

Two years ago, a friend who I really used to look up to, told me that he is fed up with hearing about mass graves and he wants a solution to this mess. I wonder if this guy had someone buried in one would have another opinion.

The 5th of November is a bonfire night in here. The skies were filled with fireworks away after midnight.

For a second I thought this was all happening for me. A tribute of some kind to the fall of Saddam; then I realised that we are not allowed to be happy and every single day is breaking us into smaller and smaller fractions.

War pornography

2006-10-22T19:11:00.000Z

“The following programme contains scenes of sexual nature and strong language from the start”
We hear the above before showing an adult movie on TV.

And we hear the following before broadcasting reports from Baghdad, Baquoba, Kirkuk or Amara:

“What you are about to watch includes events which some viewers might find disturbing and distressing”.

How considerate and thoughtful of them.

I highly respect and appreciate human rights. And I am all for the freedom of speech, the freedom of choice and even the freedom of putting a veil on. But I cannot categorize the freedom of following or ignoring an ongoing war under any of the above.

These scenes and reports should be enforced and made mandatory to watch.

It is very easy to sit and say “Oh war is horrible, I don’t want to see this” , and believe me people in here do turn off or switch over to other channels, and then go to bed and get on with their lives.

But it would not be as easy if these scenes haunt you and make you toss and turn all night.

Bush and Blair think that history will substantiate their plans and value their role in the War against Terror. They are sure it will be celebrated as another D Day (National memorial to the allied forces who participated in World WarII).

Indeed it will!

I am not writing this for Bush and Blair because I think they are both hopeless cases. But I am writing to the people who are still defending and giving various excuses to this tragedy. And not only that, they are attacking Iraqi bloggers( kid , Miraj,treasure )and accusing them of being Baathists or backing Sunni insurgents and so on.

For a change I am not going to talk about the invasions’ accomplishments!
But about the Iraqis. Our dear American readers love to put the blame on us and love to clear their conscience from the guilt on our account so let it be.

I don’t believe criminals and killers were born with this inclination. But I strongly believe that your surroundings and circumstances can make you one.

Amara sits on the biggest oil field in Iraq and yet it was and still is the poorest city in Iraq.

Basra our only port, oil rich and the home of millions of date trees was a battle front in two devastating wars. It lost everything not only her sons but her palm trees as well.

Sader city, over a million and a half inhabitants, situated in Baghdad was a rubbish dump and her sons the fuel of Saddam’s adventures.

Najaf, one of the holiest cities to Muslims was stripped off its role and turned to a dirty and ignored ghost city.

The country was ruled by a bunch of gangsters. These rulers destroyed the social structure before physically destroying the country.

We had a culture of reporting on each other, not only for financial gains but for fear of being accused of not reporting when hearing comments or jokes against the regime!

As a kid in school, I was ordered to bring my father’s and mother’s certificate of nationality; to prove none of them is of Persian origin! And since my mother was of one, I still remember I passed water while handing her certificate to the principal.

And my experience is nothing compared to others, but I have a scar. Others have bitterness and distrust and the frustration of living in poverty and deprivation in a supposedly rich country.

Still, we were not ready for your democracy if you believe you came all the way to install one.
Yes we voted and we are responsible for the idiots who represent us at the moment, but we never had proper elections before and we don’t know how and whom.

I hate the word tribe, and when I see tribal leaders meeting on TV, I wish I can just shut them up for ever. And the same goes for religious groups.
Many of Iraqis have the same feelings, but we are minority. This is how our society has become and it will require a long time to regain its sanity.

We were not given a chance to celebrate Saddam’s fall, we had no time to lick our wounds and cry over the mass graves. The doors of hell were opened and we were stormed by Takfiris and Wahabis who grouped with other local criminals and ex-regime gangs.

War brought lawlessness and made our blood cheap and worthless. It only added more scars and more distrust and ruined all our hopes.

Nothing, absolutely nothing can justify a war.

So please stop kidding yourselves. We are all against this war.

Ramadan

2006-10-12T18:46:00.000Z

Fasting is a tradition I kept since I came here.

I am far from being a devoted Muslim, but I’ve been almost always a devoted Iraqi.

The main reason was to share something, anything with the Iraqis in general and my own family in particular.
The sensation of being in common with them during this month makes me very happy indeed. We lost the normal dialogue long time ago, as I feel ashamed and embarrassed to include them in my problems for fear of sounding petty or silly.

This practice is not ideal outside its normal environment. The feel of it requires being in a Muslim country.
Some people in here create their own miniature Ramadan to celebrate the event.
They join together to break their fast and later go to mosques or Muslim community centres, while others prefer to go to Arabic cafes or restaurants and stay late which is the usual custom back home.

In my case, it was always impossible; I work long hours and I rarely have time to socialise with friends and relatives during week days.

Still I do create something just to grasp this feel of yet another illusion of mine.
I phone home daily to check what they are having for Iftar, I hook myself to some special programmes on Arabic channels, and the most important I pull my sleeves up and get into Iraqi cooking, and venture new recipes.

This Ramadan is different.

My family cannot deny their fears and worries anymore. The total collapse of public services and security turned their Ramadan as everyone else to hell.

My brother is jobless, my nephew cannot reach his school anymore; while my two nieces go on and off; most of our neighbours had left Baghdad, so no exchange of food or late gatherings. My sister-in law speaks of the silence and the lack of any conversation in our household. “If it wasn’t for the children and the atmosphere they make, I would have lost it long time ago”.

My family’s only outing is a walk to a mini-market across the road.
“Survival” and that is the name of the shop; is our only survival as my mother puts it.
“It is our reward after the usual slavery of the day. We pray all the way that it is open when we arrive!”

I phoned a close friend in Baghdad to say happy Ramadan, and found the woman in a state of shock. She was leaving early morning on the first day of Ramadan to work, and found a human head just thrown in the middle of the street.

Another was forced to leave her house and I cannot trace her till this minute.

I can list endless disasters about people I know and don’t know that sound so unreal and impossible to believe, but they are happening and in broad daylight.

Suddenly everything looked worthless to me.

The Arabic Ramadan series which are known to be very good and especially made to capture the viewers became very difficult to follow.
Some man worried about corruption and his political career, another trying to protect his son from drugs, another torn between his wife and mother.

Those programmes started to get into my nerves. I felt jealous. Why do we have to be different? Why can’t we have their problems?
Why our problems have to be unsolvable? Why is it our turn all the time? Why can’t these wars happen somewhere else?

This Ramadan became a sad occasion, I found myself restless all day, thinking of food and a smoke in the evening.
We were told that during this month we are supposed to think of the deprived and less fortunate human beings………..and look at me…

Deprivation is an understatement when it comes to Iraqis, less fortunate is even worse, no fortune is more likely.

Asking God and being spiritual doesn’t seem to work.

So I stopped.

In Denial

2006-10-01T21:41:00.000Z

My friend has to go home. His application for asylum has been refused.

Omar came four months ago to visit his brother and sister.
Both are willing to support him, and they signed a declaration to this effect.
“No recourse of benefits or public money”. But all that did not count, not even an exceptional leave to stay was granted.

As it was his first time out of Iraq. Omar suddenly realised the hell he had been living in.
The comparison was too much to handle.

When we go out I could see his eyes glowing with joy. He just couldn’t believe that people can get on with their lives without fear. People can plan and fulfil, can go out and stay late, can commute and reach their destination and can sleep soundly.

He once told me that the difference here is not only you feel secure but the bliss of waking up in the morning and say to yourself here comes another day and with it another hope not another bomb.

He reminded me of my mother when I met with her in summer. She used to move around the room in the dark, and when I questioned why, she told me that she lost the habit of switching lights on and off. She was always reluctant to go out at night; something in her subconscious told her it is dangerous.

What is upsetting me really is that the media in here is full of detailed news about Iraq.
Reports are very hard to catch up with, and you can hardly find a Newspaper without an extensive article about what is taking place on that day. Sometimes I phone my family to check on them, only to find out that they are oblivious to my worries imprisoned in the house, and I start to tell them what happened in their own city.

Tony Blair was discredited, humiliated and kicked out of office because of Iraq.
For once he was speechless and stopped his theatrical lectures because the damage done is beyond covering up.

And yet, the Home Office reports consider Iraq not at war since May 2003, and in their refusal letter they stated “We couldn’t find one single convincing reason to why Omar is under threat!”

Two years back another friend whose application for asylum was submitted just before March 2003 received a refusal for a different reason, and that was “You should go back now, Iraq is free from tyranny, just keep away from Falujja!”

But the whole of Iraq is Falujja now and worse.
If you have failed your mission, at least have the courtesy to acknowledge it on paper.

And now senior military officers are pressing the government to withdraw the British troops from Iraq and reinforce the ones in Afghanistan, and why is that? Because they think it is more worthwhile and winnable battleground in Afghanistan!

The irony is their troops are getting killed by the same people they supported to kill the Russians back in the eighties!

One has to think that whoever invented the board game RISK must have a say in the British foreign policy.

For them it seems we are just another game, an adventure and an opportunity. If it works fine if not let’s just change faces to absorb the anger of the public and whoever is opposing and move on to another.

No one seems to think that flesh and blood are involved in this process, including their own.

I feel sad and upset for Omar and whoever is in the same position. But deep inside me the idea of people leaving Iraq still upsets me more.
It is like giving up and giving in at the same time.

And here I am at the top of the list.

Is there a common ground?

2006-09-22T21:07:00.000Z

Can’t they just shut up and save us their stupid remarks?

I am developing an allergy from all headdresses. Back home we used to joke about head-scarves by calling them intelligence-blockers when the fashion of wearing them was just starting. Later on when they became the majority and the trend entered our own families, we had to shut up.

It somehow makes people who wear them feel authoritative, and obliged to lecture others whenever it suits them.

Obviously today I am speaking about the Pope with his “Episcopal Mitre”; no I am not that clever and not that interested, but I asked about the name of the thing he puts on his head and this is what I was told.

People inside Iraq wouldn’t care less; in fact some of them approve of what he said, as they are waking up everyday to see corpses all around the place and daily murders in the name of religion.

None-religious Iraqis in here are more to the philosophical side, an understandable attitude when you are far from the real action. “He really shouldn’t have said evil and inhuman bout Islam, he is only stirring up matters and inciting more hatred. The world is trying to build bridges and he has just blown them all up."

Religious Iraqis are sure that this was a planned strategy and was thought of and prepared for beforehand, and they went as far as a CIA involvement possibility.

The reaction in Muslims countries is very well expected; burning and screaming and threatening. It makes one feel they are watching an Arabic film; you could easily predict every single scene before it shows on the screen. You don’t have to think or wonder. The movie makers have no intention to tire your brains, and let you continue living in lies peacefully.

I was talking to a new-comer to London lately. He is a recent graduate of medicine school in Iraq, blessed with a British passport. In his effort to prove himself as an open-minded young man, his comment on the pope’s speech was that people should avoid speaking about taboos!!

“And what in your opinion is considered a taboo may I ask?”
He confidently answered “Sex and religion”.

I looked at him and said “You have to accept that you are now in a taboo-free zone, if you cannot live with it you better pack up and leave.”

Later I felt guilty, and thought I was a bit harsh on the guy. I remembered myself and my own shocks when I first arrived.

Many years back on my way home from work I saw an ambulance parked outside my neighbour’s house.
I saw Marie standing outside the front door, and when I went closer to check if everything is alright; she quietly told me “Jack has passed away”.

The two paramedics were checking if anyone is coming over to stay the night with her, or whether she prefers they take the body to the morgue. Marie gently thanked them and said

“My husband is staying in his house; Jack never hurt me when he was alive, and I don’t think he will now that he is dead”.
She slowly left us and walked back to the garden to finish trimming the bushes.
I couldn’t believe that she will sleep the night alone with Jack dead upstairs, but apparently she did.

I pictured the same incident had it happened back home, and I could easily see all the neighbours inside Marie’s house and relatives from all over landing there in no time as well. Let alone the following rituals which will take another forty days.

The bigger shock was the funeral which turned out to be in a crematorium rather than a church, and Jack’s body ended up ashes in a small jar.

Accepting others is very important, but I think facing and admitting your own faults is far more important.

I always try while in heated discussion about let’s say Shia and Sunni to put the blame on the Shia to let the other party soften up and admit their own mistakes so we can reach an understanding or a solution.

The pope would have made more sense if he had spoken about Christianity’s own history of violence; the Crusades, the inquisition and Europe’s religious wars along with his statement about Islam. We are all after a meeting point not further clashes.

But how could he? He is constantly wearing something over his head doesn’t he?

And finally any speech or announcement made about the above matter was overshadowed this week by the great news of the discovery of our great great great 3.3 million year old cousin as seen below:

This is our common ground. This should shut all of them up.

Principles

2006-09-08T19:00:00.000Z

“We are not living in an era where principles stand out or count”

How could she say that? I was really baffled by her statement.
Since when principles were related to time and place; they either exist or not.

An Iraqi I have known for years was trying to justify her sudden wealth and the obvious changes to her financial status in a small city like Amman.
No one asked her anything, she was just bugged without being prompted.

Later I learned that her husband made over a million dollar sub-contracting in Iraq in less than a year! “Sub-contracting for what?” I asked. “Imaginary projects and useless ventures, this is how they make money these days in Iraq if you have the right connections inside the Green zone.”

I wondered what her late father would say on this. He spent his life fighting for his beliefs and ended up dead in a cell back in the eighties.

Those are the small sharks I was told. The big ones don’t even enter Iraq.
One of the ex-patriots I came across recruits Iraqis from all over the world except from inside Iraq of course to join the re-building of Iraq project.
The amount of money those people are making is beyond belief.

Isn’t it a mystery that nothing absolutely nothing effective has been achieved on the ground as yet?

One friend told me “As much as I want to be inside the country and do anything instead of leaving it to scavengers, I had to refuse the job. When I put the money I’m going to make and Iraq’s interest on the scale, the money weighed much more!”

While in Amman, I went with my mother to visit friends of hers. I remember them very well from Baghdad, they were never poor but also educated and to a certain extent liberals;
The son is now a tycoon.
I asked him what he does. “General trading” he answered. He spoke for a long time about future businesses and expanding more and more, but I couldn’t put a finger on the real trade.

There seems to be a lot of opportunists in the times of lawlessness, that is understandable, but principled and ethical people falling in the same drain makes you wonder.
People change and adjust I am all with that, but a 180 degree diversion?

I was more baffled by another who currently lives and works in Iraq and was on a short break again in Amman.
In high school she was the head of the so -called student union, in other words the top Baathist around and she used to terrorize us with her threats and extreme ideas.

I still remember one day when all the girls refused to take a vaccination at school of what apparently was against tetanus, but there were rumours it was to stimulate ovulation in one of Saddam’s campaign to increase birth!
She stood shouting at us and clearly said “Whoever dares to refuse taking the jab will be considered a traitor and actively acting against the Baath party and Saddam”.

The whole school queued up like a herd offering our arms for the injections with gratitude!

She is now working in a well known woman association and she explained her role as teaching the Iraqi women what democracy is all about!

I felt the danger and the destruction inflicted by those is by no means less than the bloody militia’s who are tearing Iraq apart.

Where would my dream fit among the reality of those people I met with?

The truth is I couldn’t spell it out. I thought I would meet a group of enthusiasts dreaming like me of making Iraq a better place, not a bunch of chameleons who change their colours whenever an opportunity arises.

All I dream of is going back to Baghdad, open a small gym; that would be for the heart.
And for the pocket, I thought a small fancy flip flops factory in a village will do! As these are very expensive and been in the fashion for years in here, it would be feasible exporting them to the UK.

And now that everyone knows my plans; do you think there will a day when I can buy a flip flop made in Iraq in one of the High streets of London?

My Friend and I

2006-08-27T21:39:00.000Z

We stood silent for few seconds facing each other; 12 years stood there between us; We’ve aged and changed and went through different experiences. The memories kept on flashing back, our school time, our neighbourhood, the local club and even the first love.

Her first comment entering my flat was that it feels like my family house in Baghdad! We explored the marks of the years on each other; we picked on different silly things and brought the past in an effort to weld the broken bond.

I tortured her for few days with my bad habits; listening to the news during meals, getting hooked to the net for an hour or so and last but not least the Newspaper daily addiction.

After two days, I woke up in the morning and looked at her sleeping soundly, I remembered the nights we spent studying hard on our final year in high school, a sudden urge to hug her filled me; I did and I felt the old V is back, she is with me again and the years just melted away..

We did not speak about Iraq for a while, something very unlike me, probably I was trying to run away again from the sore spot, or maybe my reluctance was due to my fear of her reaction. But how could we? And for how long?

The first test came quicker than I speculated; we were walking along the Thames admiring the Tower Bridge, when a man volunteered to take a photo of us. He did, and unexpectedly asked where we come from, a very rare attitude from an English man! “I come from Iraq” was my reply; he got very interested and said, “Oh, I am going there soon!, which city in Iraq?” I proudly answered “Najaf”, then he looked at my friend questioningly and she answered “I am from New Zealand!”, I felt as if I was hit with a hammer, and quickly corrected her; “She is from Iraq too, and originally from Arbil, but she currently lives in NZ”.

That incident brought out the demons inside me again, and my role as a flame keeper came back with vengeance!

She simply said, that she is happy living in NZ and she would never go back. I have a good job, and I am bringing up my children as I wish them to be in a quite and healthy atmosphere.
I was not convinced, and I made a detour on the original plan of site seeing!

Word into Art/The British Museum

We entered the British Museum on a rainy day, we walked few meters inside only to look at this in the entrance with all the spot lights on:

This is Dia Al Azzawi’s piece standing in here attracting every visitor,

And these below are Hassan Massoudy’s two pieces What do you think?

19 Iraqi artists took part i n this exhibition, more than a third of the whole number of Middle Eastern artist participants; and tell me if you still believe you are from NZ.

Never mind, you lost faith in the Iraqis of those days; let’s go up stairs; aren’t you proud to be a descendant of those people?

TheWinged Bull

The journey hasn’t ended as yet; we moved next door to Paris to continue collecting more proofs of who we are

The Louvre

Hammorabi's Obelisk

Gudea

Ishtar

After all this, do you think it is right to abandon Iraq and dread being Iraqi?

But hala you are glorifying the past, look at us now, we are killing each other, and everyone is saying that we cannot identify our enemy to fight back.

I don’t care it is more important to identify the friend before the enemy, it is important to know who I am in order not to loose hope.

Zappy; this is for you, and I am trying very hard to be optimistic as I’ve always been..

To Love again

2006-08-11T16:07:00.000Z

I have a love crisis since I came back from my unforgettable holiday.

I’ve been fighting to fall in love again with my flat, my work, my friends and my whole life here.

The first weekend; I pulled down the curtains, cleaned the windows, scrubbed the floors and washed every single garment I have. I just wanted for things to look nice and new in my eyes once more….

The second weekend, I invited my close Iraqi friends over for a meal, but in reality I was after their support. I wanted them to appreciate my food and then agree to what I have to say!

I cooked for the whole day while trying to ignore the TV echoing in the background.
I couldn’t bring myself to switch it off, jumping back and forth every time I hear something different in the news.
The result of cooking in a kitchen which looked and felt like a war zone; was soggy rice and an over-cooked curry. Only the fish survived my temper.

I think living in stable countries turns you to a placid person and a dreamer;
One of my friends was trying to push us to weigh up the Middle East crisis differently and don’t let our anger control us, a peaceful solution she pressed. The other was steering the conversation away; bringing up her never ending problems with her husband and blaming it on the situation back home. Another wanted to shut us all up by stating “Don’t waste your time trying to analyse what happened and what will happen next; Saddam is responsible of all our tragedies; Iraq, Lebanon you name it, he has been for the last 40 years or so”.

“Don’t you dare switch on the news, I will leave the minute you do so” the last one to arrive shouted. “I had enough at home, I am here to relax and chat”, and “Please face it we are bad people and God is punishing us for what we are”.
“And how come you are suddenly supporting the turbans?” “I hope it is not the Shia blood in you affecting your brains?”

Those rebellious friends of mine have really changed and have decided on a “We don’t want to know” slogan.

What is frightening; is how submissive we are all becoming. We are starting to believe that there must be something seriously wrong with us. Let alone contributing to the new terms; radical Islam, moderate Islam, Islam phobia, axis of terror and today’s Islam fascists …
On the other hand, you meet others who are so angry and in constant rage; no reason no space for any kind of conversation.

The Media is turning us against each other to distract us from the real culprit, and at the same time accelerating hate and disgust from others toward us.

Can’t you see that we have been slaughtered for the last 50years; first we were put in mass graves and now we are elegantly put in boxes? Is this the difference between dictatorships and democracies?

Can’t you see that we are the only ones who have to abide by UN resolutions or otherwise what is dictated by the US while others do what they want?

Can’t you see that even when we are bombed and maimed; it turns out to be our fault?

Above all can’t you see that the conspiracy theory we are accused of believing in is utterly the only reality?

I can confidently tell you that the 1815 corpses delivered to Baghdad morgue last month made the Israelis day, along with the daily murders in Lebanon.

Wake up, our lives and destinies revolve around the happiness and safety of Israel. And those aliens Israelis who don’t speak our language and don’t share our culture have more right to exist in our own land than us.

No, Israel is not a status quo we have to accept. Israel is a cancer we have to uproot.

After all if we defend our land, we are terrorists; if we got killed it is collateral damage.

Don’t tell me we’d rather have moderate people, there isn’t such thing. Where does moderation come from? You are moderate when you live in moderate surroundings.

I was really charged and ready to face the biggest love crisis of all, the one I’ve been avoiding since I came back…. My Jewish second mother.

I did not want her to say Hizballah is great and Israelis are criminals. I just wanted her to acknowledge our dead. Or at least say both are wrong and we have to do something.

She did not; she blamed it all on Hizballah and just recited whatever their media is broadcasting. I was worse than her and said it all…

I can overcome a loss of a friend; I can survive a failed love affair, but a mother…

Bye Bye Beirut

2006-07-31T21:08:00.000Z

It is not easy to put my experience during the last two weeks into simple words.

But what I’ve witnessed made me face the naked truth. The truth I’ve been trying to hide from by being hopeful and optimistic.
I am still wondering though, whether I would have seen things differently had I watched it on TV sitting on my comfortable sofa in London.

The Lebanese first reaction after arresting the two Israeli soldiers; was that the timing of Hezbollah is wrong, as it was the tourism season. But their sentiment changed completely after bombing Rafik Al Hariri’s airport the next day.
They realised the real aim yet again of the Israelis well known to them from many previous assaults.

I cannot say I was frightened because I’ve seen much worse in Iraq.
The difference is there was no retaliation from the ground. We only heard Israeli jets roaring overhead and the blasts when they dropped the bombs, which startled us a bit and then silence. While in Baghdad the ground to air missiles and all types of weaponry aimed at the aircrafts used to make terrifying sounds and shock the earth beneath us.

The above is from the hotel window in Beit Meri (the mountains) 5:00am

Leaving Beirut..........

The only time I felt really scared was on the second night of the aerial strikes; when I took a walk with some of the hotel residents early in the evening and saw a whole army lined alongside the sea promenade looking straight into the water probably watching for frogmen human.
One woman raised her head and cried loudly “May God Almighty sink this ugly frigate we were watching from a far and burn whoever on board”. That same night Nasrallah announced bombing it. I sat trembling in my hotel room till early in the morning.

On the third day there was no hope left neither inside the hotel nor outside. Apart from the local bakery and supermarket there was nothing open. On that exact day my mother arrived from Syria and we spent three more days in front of the TV boiling with anger and frustration watching the destruction and the daily massacres.

The Lebanese I met in the hotel and many locals living in the area were very much with Hezbollah criticising Syria for being so silent. They wanted the Syrian to open the Golan front and declare a real open war once and for all.

On the sixth day and after bombing the light house near where we were staying, the whole hotel slept in the shelter apart from us and another Iraqi couple.

Next morning we checked out and went to the mountains. A 20 minute trip cost us $80. On our way up the bombing of the southern part of Beirut intensified as the traffic got busier the minute we hit the mountains.
We stayed in a hotel one night busy arranging a car to cross the borders, and meanwhile I couldn’t help standing in the balcony every now and then looking down at Beirut screaming below.

The journey from the mountains to Damascus took us only 2 hours including the delays in both the Lebanese and Syrian borders. We were not aware that our driver who charged us $800 took the bombed route in order to come back quickly and get more passengers. He bribed his way through as we did not move from our seats until our arrival.

The following day we travelled yet again to Amman arriving completely stressed and sad, still glued to the TV screen watching in disbelief the whole world conspiring, lying and justifying the slaughtering of another city in the Middle East. But who cares…..

The Conclusion:

I’ve never ever felt so humiliated in my life as I did seeing Israeli jets flying freely in the skies of Beirut, not only that but there were small grey balloons hanging in the air taking photographs at aimed areas. I loathed our weakness, I loathed being born as an Arab, I loathed living in London I hated myself so much I couldn’t even look in the mirror or watch my shadow as I walk. I felt so small and envied a tiny ant struggling to find its way through the sand.

I hate peace and I don’t believe in it anymore, it is so clear now that the more we bow and compromise the more we got stepped at and smashed. If there would be peace one day it has to be on our own terms.

Israel is talking about changing the culture of hate; what a joke, those cowards have the cheek to speak about hate.
Israel has the right to defend itself; and talking about us trying to throw them in the sea, so meanwhile they are throwing us in hell.

The US has only one goal, that is to turn the area to a desert and drain it freely; armless, helpless, pacified and who dares to say a word.

It is very hard for me to say that our only salvation is to ally with Iran, the only strong country left, enough is enough we are living in an era where you have to be feared not respected.

And a small message to all the hypocrates; you may kill and slaughter trying to establish a so called "The New Middle East"; rememmber you are fighting an ideology not a group of people.

Nasrallah is not a terrorist; he is probably the last dignified man in the area. Right now he is the only man I can take my hat off for.

Welcome to the Middle East

2006-07-13T15:55:00.000Z

Guys I made it to Beirut only yesterday morning!

My first impression was how elegant and beautiful Rafik Al Harir's airpot is!It didn't take me more than one day to blow it up and with it my family's arrival this morning.

Now my mother is stuck in Damascus . It is not safe for me to take a taxi from here to join her, and she wouldn't be granted an entry visa in the Lebanese borders if she decided to join me in the seige! Visas to Iraqis are only issued if you arrive by air. Don't ask me why.

"Alone in Beirut"

Guys I know no one in here, isn't that funny!!
Yesterday I strolled in Al Hamra street following Zappy's advice. I did my homework and went to Antoine bookshop, ate Manakeesh and took a 2hour walk along the sea. I sat on a rock watching fishermen and swimmers, then on a bench smoking and watching a live fashion show for free.
Later in the evening I dressed up and went down town Beirut. I had a tasty dinner in Al Balad restaurant and an excellent coffe in Virgin coffe shop all by myself till 1:00am.
I took a taxi and came back to the hotel normally.
For some who don't know, a woman cannot do this in any Arab country. But this is Beirut! isn't it? Here you see a woman covered from top to toe walking aside another with nearly no clothes on.
Today, after my brother's wake up call to give me the bad news (I didn't hear any bombing), I decided to kill time before my worries kill me. I followed a friend advice and went to an area called "Musharafiya" to check an antique shop. Guess what? I discovered after arriving there, that this is part of the south district where Hizbola followers live.They were all closing early and clearing their shop windows. The traffic was unbelievable and all heading to inner Beirut or fleeing to their homes.
I walked for a long time till I could find a car to take me back. The driver thank God was an optimist or maybe a good tourism enthusiast, he kept on telling me how things will clear in a maximum of two days, and that this is only a game.

My feeling is that bombing the airport was meant to kill any hope to revive Lebanon's economy.
Israel is jealous, it might sound silly but they are dying to get people to their country and establish any kind of tourism. This will never happen.

I am in the hotel lobby watching Hizbola channeland using their net although the owners are Christians and the manager is Durzi. Patriotic songs and all the lot. A feeling of Deja vous inside me and an old song of Sabah called "I lost my heart in Beirut" is playing in my ear and has been all day.

I am sure I won't loose my heart in Beirut but I might loose my Li........
It's bloody 13th today. I am just joking, everything will be fine.

Beirut

2006-07-05T21:22:00.000Z

I am off to Beirut in few days time to join part of my family. It has become unbearable for them to hold on in Baghdad in the heat generated by natural and unnatural causes.

I am excited and happy; my batteries are nearly flat and desperately require recharging! And this can only be achieved by intensive hugs and reassurances from my mother.

It is very sad though not being able to make the one hour flight to Baghdad from there, and in spite of feeling so thrilled at the moment, my heart is not beating as fast as it does when Baghdad is my final destination.

Baghdad is my family, my home and my love. This was my answer to someone who said that once my family is out, I will forget, stop following the news and seize from worrying.

I wanted to post something, but I am really distracted and cannot concentrate, let alone having to arrange my work before leaving.

I should be back by the end of July.

I will miss you all.

Goal

2006-06-26T21:02:00.000Z

The football fever hit the British isle two weeks ago; people went mad, sticking king George's flags all over; on cars, pubs, cafes and houses; some even shaved their heads into the flag pattern, tatooed it on their bodies or else had it painted on their faces.
Shops are filled with black&white ball shaped chocolates, coke bottles, lollypops you name it.
Wides screen television prices soared, tracksuits, t-shirts, trainers cost a small fortune if it is related to this event, let alone the promotions and prizes we are currently bombarded with on every single print in the country.

At the moment there is no escape we are all caught in this circle. You feel the tension vibes wherever you go. From earlier experiences there is nothing called “Be a sport” or “it’s only a game” people take this matter very seriously.

I have to admit that I love this feeling of closure, when suddenly everyone has one thing in mind and everything else can be dealt with later. The idea of looking at people and knowing exactly what they are thinking of somehow makes me happy.

In this rainbow society as they say in the UK, people’s loyalty and enthusiasm took a turn and all went back to their roots.
Jayne a colleague from Ghana came to work last week in her traditional dress after winning the match over the USA. And in spite of being in here since she was a toddler she is backing her country of origin all the way. The British Caribbean’s are no less eager and they spread their flags and streamed the streets with their music and traditional dancing.

What about me? Generally I am too much into sport and apart from cricket; I follow everything from boxing to tennis to football.
Since Iraq is not part of this competition, I thought it would be normal to back England. As the matches progressed I was puzzled to find myself backing the weak and vulnerable, watching those Africans struggling to score, I had flash backs of them in famine, civil wars and in camps. From the two Arab teams Tunisia had my support, and I surprised myself by becoming too involved emotionally jumping in front of the TV, shouting and swearing and later feeling sad, cursing our bad luck;
I even spoke to God and begged him to let Arabs win in something, anything but……

Once upon a time we used to brace the strong and able, and trust that being in their team will offer us protection and somehow elevate us to the same level.

The days when people used to cheer cowboys on movies against red Indians have long gone.

The strong now is frightening and heartless.
Being able means you are right and others have to bow.
The word strong became associated with injustice, exploitation and double standards.

I hate to mix sports with politics, but sometimes I feel cornered and have no mean to express my anger or win over the mighty, so a small bend in their pride and let it be a football match will do!

When I went to my usual class in the gym last Thursday, I found our trainer had turned the hall into a football pitch. Two small goals and we were split into four teams of three each. The winner will continue to play the others. I went with Ali Hassan the only Iraqi and one other girl.
My last memory of playing football was when I was six years old. Ali and I were the strikers and we left the other girl guarding the goal.
We lost the first round, but after 15 minutes we went back with vengeance, we played for the next 45minutes none stop and scored like there is no tomorrow, I was gasping for air when we finally finished, while Ali Hassan was shouting the Iraqi team has won the Iraqi team won!

Yesterday I watched England against Ecuador and backed England for the first time since the tournament started; I think for two reasons, first a lot of my frustration was out after Thursday’s match! Second, I love those people, I live among them, and there is no way I can deny that.
But deep down inside I am still waiting for Iraqis to score a big GOAL.

Imagine

2006-06-16T23:21:00.000Z

I was sitting among a group of Arab women the other day; the topic was about the most famous traditional dishes.
While each of them was proudly describing her country’s speciality, I and my other Iraqi friend made eye contact, as we both recalled an earlier discussion between the two of us. She insisted then that we do not have any pure Iraqi dish apart from big chunks of meat with bread; every other dish we cook is originally Iranian, Turkish or Mediterranean. I was on the defensive, “What about okras stew? Or our tasty aubergine dish?”. We argued for a while and then skipped the subject. I was worried she would say something similar in front of these women and belittle our cuisine.

When our turn came and all eyes and ears were focused on us; I was about to open my mouth, when she interrupted me and replied “Our traditional dish tastes like Iraq; a mixture of all races and religions. You have to manually mix inconsistent ingredients for thousands of years, and every now and then you would be forced to add some exotic elements, which might not blend easily, but with a bit of patience and a lot of love; the outcome will become homogeneous. You might not agree to the flavour but that is the only recipe we have!”

My friend who is originally from Hilla; a city south of Baghdad spoke about how when she was a child, her best outing was going with her siblings to play near the ruins of Babylon while listening to stories about how 6000 years ago there were children her age in this exact place and probably playing the same games!

My friends’ words reminded me of how uneasy and apprehensive I feel when I visit new and modern cities. I cannot even identify myself with the people who live in there.

As much as I am proud of being from a country so old and so diverse, it makes me wonder sometimes whether this was a blessing or a burden.

We Iraqis cannot deny that we are part of the Arab world, I myself am definitely an Arab, somewhere we have a tree…and it goes back to nearly 1000 years.

Islam unites its followers in faith and considers it beyond race and beyond borders. In practice this doesn’t work.

I feel for Lebanese Christians much more than I do for Indian Muslims, and my heart goes for an Iraqi Christian much more than for a Lebanese Muslim! Don’t we all?

Those fundamentalists groups are trying to wipe off the history of Iraq and the whole area and minimize all achievements outside the circle of Islam. They are overlooking the Arab scientist, poets and musicians and accuse them of being a bunch of heretics.

The whole Middle East has been governed by repressive and corrupt governments for so long, and for them to secure their chairs, those rulers fought against any change and did not allow educated people to have a role and a say in any aspect of life. It was always the wrong person in the wrong place.
As a consequence people followed the unknown and they found it to be the only light in the end of the tunnel.

Arabs who hail Al Zarqawi don’t hate Iraqis, they hate their own failures and they are expressing their own frustrations. They are trying to give excuses to themselves; sometimes they are fighting the super power and sometimes by fighting the Shia Muslims (I bet they don’t know anything about them) and so on.

When I am angry I loathe the Arab countries for their weakness and stupidity and cruelty; Where are they from our pain, Why don’t they recognise our daily tragedies.
But when I am calm, I try to forgive and understand and meanwhile I dream on.

Tonight I am imagining with John Lennon so imagine

.

A change of mood

2006-06-08T19:08:00.000Z

My mother wore the headscarf for the first time yesterday. She tried to sound cheerful over the phone but her tone betrayed her. She kept on reassuring me the last few weeks of how things are not so bad in our area, and how she is still going for her daily walks in the vicinity with no problems.
She even made me laugh saying that she still carries her umbrella as a protection from the scorching sun; a habit she always insisted on, and used to cause us embarrassment.

I might sound silly; my mother after all is an old woman, what about young women or even children. But I am sad. I draw my strength and confidence from her.

I still remember when I wanted something or required her permission to go somewhere, I used to take her by surprise to guarantee her approval. Never ever she changed her mind even if she had had second thoughts. She wanted to prove to us all the time that her position and her words never change. Poor mother she did not even have the option of saying “your father didn’t agree” later on, because she was a single mother.

I cannot stand the idea of my mother changing let alone forced to do so.

All the signs show that in the middle of this madness; the only issue all battling groups seem to agree upon is women repression.
Iraqi women will lose regardless of who wins in the end.

I wrote the above yesterday evening.
Today I feel I cannot finish it….Why ?
Because I am happy, very happy indeed.

You all know why. Zarqawi is finished.

Things might not improve or change instantly, but this will definitely have a positive effect on Iraqis. It will bring back a long lost confidence; not in the government but in themselves and the future. The tables are turning at last.

I chose to celebrate with my colleagues at work. They were the ones who’ve seen my ups and downs. They are the ones whom I spend most of my time with.

I took them over to their favourite pub and bought them drinks.

My line manager threw a very nice speech; it did bring tears to my eyes, something that rarely happens.

It never occurred to me before, but it seems that they all know I am madly in love with Iraq!

The Wedding

2006-05-30T23:00:00.000Z

I was on my way to a wedding, a very conservative Iraqi wedding to be precise; I hate women-only parties and I did think a lot about the wasted time and energy and the nonsense I have to put up with, but I had to go.

It was raining heavily, in fact it has not stopped raining all week, and the temperatures have dropped as well, for heaven’s sake we are nearly in June! Even nature is not fair, a bit of this breeze back home will help a lot, a bit will cool down the moods, shorten the fuel queues and might, only might activate the mercy hormone in the hearts of some!

I tried to cheer myself up by imagining myself going in there and having a great time, but deep down inside, I knew that this is only wishful thinking.
I switched on some Iraqi music on the way to prepare myself; the songs reminded me of a friend who solely decided not to be my friend anymore, so that did not help either.

Everything associated with Iraq is sad and gloomy, this has always been the case for as long as I can remember. It makes me really wonder sometimes why am I madly in love with Iraq? Why do I keep on running away from Iraqis only to find myself dying to be among them?

I walked in the hotel and was guided to the party hall.
In the entrance a group of women in black were greeting the visitors quietly in very low voices as if we were attending a memorial service rather than a happy occasion.

Inside the hall the atmosphere was completely different.

The place was full of women in very colourful and revealing clothes, something I’ve always noticed in women wearing hijab in particular, they do exaggerate in showing their assets.. as if to prove that they are covering it by choice, and they are indeed attractive and sexy like others if not more!
There was no music; all I could hear was the loud hum of conversation.

I sat down in my assigned place, on my table there were four other women, I knew one of them only, she was with me in the same University, I don’t really know her very well, but at least a familiar face. I started speaking to suss her out, I talked a bit about my work, and in no time I could see that she was looking through me rather than at me, so I shut up. To make things even worse, she suddenly asked me “How do you cook the meat in this country? It stinks doesn’t it?” and without waiting for my answer, she explained to me in details her original procedure in dealing with British meat!

I looked at the couple of women in front of me, and gave them a broad smile, the younger one started to speak to me immediately, the usual personal questions, her mother got interested and jumped in “How come you live alone? Your family has to be very open-minded to let you stay in here”. I ignored her and asked the daughter of what she thinks of the situation in Iraq? “It is getting awful” she said, “and since we are originally Turkish, I stopped saying we are from Iraq, they think we are savages you know”. Can you see that woman to the left; she pointed out at someone, “What about her?” “Oh you don’t know her? Her husband is one of the candidates for the interior ministry, look at how she is behaving; probably she thinks she will end up 12 feet under rather than 6 like the rest of us!” I gave up on those two and turned aside and looked at my last hope the only woman left on the table!

I’ve seen you before she said; apparently she was eavesdropping, those women are life-loving and shallow, don’t take any notice of them; we have to work hard and prepare ourselves for the other life and get more spiritual.

We were interrupted by someone announcing the arrival of the groom, suddenly all were busy covering themselves, and by the time he went in, I realised that more than three quarters of the women were in hijab. They started playing some religious chants and the poor 18years old bride especially imported from Iraq, raised her head a bit and got a glimpse of all the devouring eyes staring at her.

By then I felt I was suffocating and decided to go out for some fresh air. As I was strolling around I noticed two women smoking and laughing loudly; “Can I join you?” I asked, “Of course you can” one of them replied. They were cousins, one of them lived in London for the last ten years and the other has just arrived from Basra for a training course. The new arrival was telling me, that she would never have dreamt of attending such a lousy wedding in London, even in Basra we don’t have such a thing. What happened to the music and the dance?
If those bunch inside want to live like this, why don’t they go back home?
I lost a father and a brother in one year, they were slaughtered by the new lunatics just like that, since then I lost faith in everything; I would give half my life if they allow me to stay here and enjoy the other half peacefully.

The other woman was silent, and then suddenly started laughing hysterically; you know what, my beloved husband took my two small children and ran away back to Iraq, he says I am a bad mother, and he wants to raise my girls properly away from this place. I will give half my life to know their whereabouts.

I went back to greet the newly wed, and I deliberately kissed the 33years old groom whom I knew and his family for such a long time. He was embarrassed and clenched hard on his beads string; I thought well; if he and his family have decided to put on a new face, I haven’t changed one bit.

I was right; I did not have a good time. These places often make me feel that I am so alone, and that there are very few balanced Iraqis left.

I kept on thinking of what is worth giving half my life to though!

Are we being watched or watched over?

2006-05-18T17:39:00.000Z

When surveillance cameras were fitted in underground stations, major streets and busy areas, the idea was welcomed by many.
And promising more and more of these cameras was the key to win local council elections. In practice these cameras meant safety, and proved to be effective in deterring crime, drug-dealing and vandalism.

Earlier this year I had to do a one day training somewhere in east London. On my way back I asked for a receipt for my travel card to get a reimbursement from work. I had a quick look at the receipt and to my astonishment I found my name and all my movements throughout the day between buses and trains registered on it with the exact hours!

When the identification card bill was introduced to the parliament, one of the given reasons was of course protecting the nation from terrorism. (The UK is one of the few remaining countries in the world where carrying an ID card is not required).

These cards are not like any normal ones, they will be connected to a database, where everyone’s personal details would be stored. It will include your fingerprints, scan of your iris, and unlimited other details. They do say it will be voluntary, but everybody knows it will be compulsory.
Here they don’t jail or humiliate you, but I would assume one won’t be able to move without having one.

A new policy of “who you are” will be applied; the cards will be swiped in post offices, pharmacies, in banks, and definitely when buying cigarettes or alcohol.

Those cards will control peoples’ lives, their savings, their shopping, and practically every single thing they do. It will violate the privacy of a very private and free nation.

The irony is that the people themselves pay for these services under the rule of democracy.

I thought the above might be an ideal solution to the security crisis in Iraq, and then I imagined if all these information would fall in the wrong hands at these terrible times!
I thought no, getting that personal is dangerous under any circumstances war or peace.

Still, I did not take this news as badly as a lot of native citizens did.

The inside of hala_s is somehow still the same. For me the ID is only a proof of who I am, and that I have paid all my taxes and done nothing wrong.
For them the ID card is an insult! Just asking for it, means being accused of doing something illegal!

One of my colleagues was saying “We are paying the government to serve us, not to interfere in our lives. I think we are being punished for the mess they’ve caused in Iraq”.

Once and along time ago the system in here was built on trust, it is no more the same.

Some blame immigrants and asylum seekers for this distrust; yes, they might have contributed a bit, but are they the real culprit?

50% of the world crises to say the least were instigated by the super powers, sometimes by indirect provocation, sometimes by direct assaults.

Their reckless strategies and crazy attempts to discipline the world have only resulted in the loss of thousands of innocent lives, let alone the build up of hate and anger all over.

The ordinary person in here would think what is the gain? Is it the nearly £1 per litre petrol? Or the police state the country is gradually turning into?

But the big people are making money and a lot of it.

Greed is the real culprit.

In the gala

2006-05-09T16:31:00.000Z

He is a newsagent up the road, an old Iraqi man with thick spectacles on. He keeps on feeding me with the latest, sometimes when I am in a bad mood I cross to the other side of the road; on other times it seems inevitable to have a chat.
Never ever I heard positive or uplifting information from him. Not that I hold the poor man responsible, but I feel so relieved when I manage to escape him in the morning.
His latest statement for the third week in a row is “We are doomed to accept either Americans or Iranians influence in Iraq” it is all about interests he said, we have to weigh which one is less damaging!
My heart sinks every time he stresses on this subject, and I try hard to visualise other options. Over our dead bodies I thought, but do we really have more bodies on offer?

He was the first face I met with when I entered SOAS last Saturday, to attend the gala night of the Iraqi documentary film festival in London.

I was surprised by the number of attendees. The entrance was packed, and I could only finish saying hello to someone to find another. My friend was with me; in her hijab she felt out of place and kept on pulling my shirt to attract my attention to the reception area, I finally looked behind and saw stacks of wine bottles ready to be served!
She was upset, and I was happy! Not because of the wine of course, but of what it indicates; wine meant open-minded Iraqis would be around.

It started with an introduction by Maysoon Pachachi (Iraqi director); a mixture of pain, hope and appreciation to the films makers and their efforts.

We watched two short documentaries about the daily struggle of ordinary Iraqis in the middle of chaos and lack of basic services. Some of the shots were hilarious; others make you wonder how much more those people can take.

This was followed by the main film “The song of the missing men”, which was basically a long journey from the marshes in the south of Iraq up to Zakhu in the far north just before the borders with Turkey.
It was a demonstration of different religions, sects, cultures and yet all had one dream; peace and security.

All three films did not show any blood.

But the blood effect had a strong presence. The abused nature in the south left fishermen and farmers helpless with nothing to do. The harshness of the daily life in urban and rural areas was beyond belief.

The saddest scenes for me were in Nasiriyah.
The site of “Ur” the birth place of Abraham, where the ziggurat was built by the Sumerian nearly 3000 years BC, looked totally deserted apart from groups of foreign troops in their military uniforms taking photos!

Nasiriyah; the main source of Iraqi singers and poets has abandoned its role. The religious fanatics took over and banned this culture. They showed a man singing passionately in the fields. For me it sounded like a cry for help.

I remembered how sad and concerned we felt when we used to watch what was happening in Somalia, Kosovo and Afghanistan; I remembered how we used to ridicule the idea of becoming another Lebanon. What we thought will never happen to us, is not only happening, but tragically it is worse than anything we would have imagined.

I did not recognise my own country, it could have been filmed anywhere, but I certainly recognised the people and felt their perseverance and strong will.

By the end of the night, many people gathered outside exchanging ideas and fears.
I looked at the young people who were probably dragged to the place, they seemed oblivious to what was going on, and have already switched their IPODS on. The ones who are a bit older were discussing what they have just watched; trying to comprehend and put a face to the Iraq they left in a very young age.
My generation have confused visions of a relatively nice childhood, and then a life time spent inside Iraq and out cherishing these memories and dreaming of having them back once more.

I decided to join the old people, the only hopeful and focused ones. I hugged a doctor who arrived recently after being released from his kidnappers; he did not say anything but his old and yet very strong hands gave me all the reassurances I needed.

Finally on my way back to the car, I was trying to remember the lyrics of the song the man was singing in the fields, when I felt a tap on my shoulder, I turned around to see the newsagent smiling at me, “Did you see my sister? They filmed her while she was praying”. I smiled back, “And by the way, haven’t I said it before? Americans or Iranians the choice is ours!”

I just left him and swore not to go near his shop again.

The pumpkin

2006-04-29T12:14:00.000Z

I was sitting in the park last week when a small girl of about 4 years came up to me and said “Can I tell you a joke?” I hugged her and replied “of course you can; go on”, “Why is Cinderella bad in football?” “Why is that?” I asked, “Because her coach is a pumpkin!” I laughed so much; the little one couldn’t believe she was that funny and went back to her mother jumping with a triumphant smile;

The pumpkin reminded me somehow of the turban, not only the sound of it but the shape as well.
You might think I have a twisted mind, but those turbans are really worrying, and they should be to all of us.

My late father was born to a very religious family in Najaf. He opened his eyes in a house full of students from Iran, Lebanon living in, learning the Shariaa laws and the basis of Islam from as they believed its real source. When he was 15years old with a small turban over his head, he was very proud to join his father in a trip to Iran. Upon their arrival many reached out for his feet and tried to kiss them. Since that incident he left his city and took a completely different route, a 180 degree to the opposite direction.

Recently I read in Iraq the model blog, how the Saderist bunch is going after the education ministry;
Let the others fight over Oil, defence, interior or exterior, and while other blocs are concerned about the present, they are trying to control the future.

A series of documentaries on orphanages back home, were very disturbing when I watched them in one of the Iraqi channels. Those poor deprived children spend their after school time praying and attending religious lessons, and of course the young girls are in hijab already. No music, no art and no sport.
I don’t want to sound nasty but for one minute I questioned the Iraqi charities integrity; not money wise but their real aim. Are we going to bring up another herd?

I thought if my father could run away, those youngsters cannot. They are being coached by the wrong people and they are stuck with them.

Then I quickly remembered my nephew and nieces, who don’t know anything about outdoor activities, confined indoors in front of the TV or the Computer. When I was in Baghdad last year, my two nieces were so excited one night asking me to give them extra chocolates; they packed all their toys as they were going for a picnic. The picnic was sitting in the school garden for the whole day!
What type of people are they going to grow up into?

Their school in my time was named after the founder of the Baath Party (Michael Aflak) and now it is called Al Al-Bait (the family of prophet Mohamed)!

Doesn’t this say it all?

It looks like everybody wants to capture the Iraqis hearts and minds not only the Americans!
Everyone wants to put us in a certain mould and expect us to fit in whether we like it or not.

We have long established that it is impossible for a secular government to rule Iraq at the moment and not for a long time to come. But our future is in danger; someone is trying to steal our hopes and yet again influencing our children’s right of choice.

Two churches in the area where I live in London were sold to two different Islamic foundations and became two Mosques instead!

Just today on the radio the Archbishop of Winchester Cathedral was defending why for £20,000 he allowed the crew of The Da Vinci Code movie to film inside his Cathedral!
This controversial story which rocked the core of Christianity!

Dose this make the Christians less devoted than Muslims? I don’t think so.

On the contrary it proves the fact that their scarcity means people will go to them by choice, being everywhere and interfering in every detail will never make them more popular.

It is amazing to see how the English Muslims (coverts) behave or deal with Islam.
In my opinion they are the people who should wear the turbans and teach us all what our religion is all about.

First they don’t have our anger; they were brought up in stable and secure societies. Second; they had the freedom to think, compare and choose what they thought best.

When I hear a child screaming uncontrollably; honestly before I look behind, I bet that 90% he/she is from our part of the world! 90% of the times I am right.

This child is rebelling against the so-called facts imposed on him without explanation; Haram (against God’s wish), God will punish you; you will end up in hell, and so on

This heritage which we drag behind us wherever we go is based on fear, injustice and endless restrictions on our liberties.

When I loose hope in Iraqis living in here; I remember my mothers’ words; Iraqis back home are different, those people in here are lost and they want to defend their existence; In Iraq they are fighting to defend their newly gained freedom!

In the end, all I can say is “Beware of the pumpkins”.

Mind the gap!

2006-04-20T19:54:00.000Z

What? Are they reading my mind?

I was on my first train trip in London, and I heard this announcement “Mind the gap” I was thinking of all the possible gaps ahead of me, and how am I going to overcome them. And this statement just spoke my mind. It turned out to be the gap between the train and the station platform!

More than 10years now, and on another train journey, I am thinking if I have managed to fill all the gaps, and if there was really a point in doing so.

Unlike many Iraqis I wanted to be part of this society from day one; so I could live normally. I wanted to block myself from the life I had before. The last thing I needed is feeling homesick.

I went shopping and clubbing like mad during the first few years. I later became more sensible and started enjoying long country walks and developed a real interest in theatre, I even tried my best to understand what cricket is all about!

I’ve always been capable of forcing myself to do things until they become habits; if and only if; I am satisfied they were right for me.
Sometimes it does work; this is how I learned to appreciate and enjoy the English sense of humour. And sometimes it doesn’t; that is when I decided that falling in love with an English guy would close all the gaps!

The biggest barrier was and still is “The drinking culture”. I have nothing against alcohol, but when it becomes the main purpose, the main reason and ultimately the only enjoyment, I and many others cannot really understand.
Going for a picnic ends up in drinking; a sunny day means drinking, watching a football match, going out anywhere is the same, drink till you drop!

The problem is the effect of it on people, not only any conversation turns to crap; but people start to allow themselves more liberties, and sometimes say things which might offend you or change your view on the person completely.

Recently a woman neighbour knocked on my door at 3:00am in the morning, when I opened she begged me to let her in because her cat has fallen from the second floor, and she needed access to the rear garden from my bedroom. The woman was completely drunk, and while she was struggling to squeeze herself through the window, she started telling me what she really thinks of Arabs! Especially when it comes to animals; and that she doesn’t give a .… to what I think of her, but we are barbarians and backwards!
Usually I have very good relationship with her and mutual respect. She is a high-flyer who works in one of the most famous accountancy firms. Since that incident, I started to look at her differently, and I try to keep my distance.

The problem is not what she thinks of me as an Arab. As long as I don’t know, it suits me fine. You can only judge on peoples’ actions not on what is going on in their minds.

To sum up my achievements on the social level; All I can say is that I learned to enjoy myself company more and more, in other words I go along in life as an individual.

This is a country where you go and see your parents once a year in Christmas. A country where there is only one family bathroom upstairs in a big house; so it was originally designed not to entertain or invite someone over. A country where nearly half the population sell their houses on retirement age to go and live in Spain!

On the personal level, I discovered that I could easily understand Iraqis; I can read through their eyes and judge from their body language. But till this minute I cannot do that with others.

Before I reached my stop, I looked around in the carriage to find familiar faces of people I’ve been living with for quite a long time, I do love them in my own way, I do share some of their problems, but they are not mine..

Suddenly I felt happy; I remembered that I came all the way to spend the Easter holiday with my neighbours in Baghdad, who happened to live in a small village in Yorkshire.

No one loves Iraq anymore

2006-04-08T19:03:00.000Z

This time last year, I was preparing to go home. Just thinking of it now fills me with joy.

Once I paid for the ticket, I started to have sleepless nights and became very anxious. The saddest part though is feeling afraid. I tried hard to dismiss this mood, it is home after all, but how could anyone?

The taxi-driver who drove me from the airport was called Saddam!! Not a very encouraging start I thought. He asked me to sit next to him in order not to raise any suspicions on route! He literally interrogated me all the way, and I could hear my heart throbbing with fear. Could this be my end? In the hands of the Mujahideen? Oh God let me at least see my family first, why did I choose to come alone?

All the worries of the journey disappeared, once I sat a foot in our house.

There were a lot of new etiquettes I had to learn about. It looks like every year is worse than the one before. New regulations in the house were introduced; all revolved around the electricity, water supply and fuel. How to take a shower, when to do the washing, when to cook, when to go out etc.. And still, even with all my mothers’ contingency plans we couldn’t win!

Our kitchen smelt differently, with all the new primitive cooking and water heating gadgets. Only a few days before I left, I managed to grab the old smell, or at least got used to the new one!
Till this day when I cook in here, I use the old methods of my mother and grandmother just to get the magical smell! It somehow makes me feel more confident in my cooking and part of it is probably to torture myself.

The first day I took a long walk with my brother. The main road looked like a market; stalls of all kinds, the noise of the electricity generators was deafening, people walking in masses just to make use of the last rays before the sun sets. I was trying to cross a barrier of barbed wires when I got my skirt trapped in between, and later torn to break loose. I felt so embarrassed, why am I being so clumsy? Why am I behaving like a tourist?

It does hurt me when I feel that I don’t know anymore, the new dialect, the new wit, the new short-cuts and the new agony. When I tried to share with others, I looked like a hypocrite; When I suggested something; it sounded so silly; and I could see the ‘What do you know’ in everyone’s eyes.

My friends came to see me; all looked weary in spite of the efforts they made to look nice and elegant, all covered in hijab. All have surrendered to their new fate. I kept on bringing the past up. I was searching for any glow in their eyes; I could see none. I felt so alone. And yet, who am I to speak, what did I expect?

Two of my closest friends insisted on taking me to Buratha Mosque (attacked by suicide bombers yesterday), ‘I have to drink water from the well in there!’ they said. ‘Why is that?’ ‘To get married of course’ one of them answered back.
We went, and I did drink the water; for a different reason though. I prayed selfishly to whoever is up there to bring me back home and make it a safe place for my sake.
Now it looks like I was a bad omen.

The down town of Baghdad city looked so different to the lively place it used to be. The market parallel to the river was nearly empty. The few goldsmith shops had armed guards outside their doors. The fabric and carpet merchants were more relaxed and I could see their features soften up a bit when speaking nicely to them. But I cannot forget the worried looks they all had.

My city is battered, dirty, full of concrete blocks, no- through roads, closed bridges, chaotic and unsafe. The people I know looked haggard and helpless. I tried to find any traces from the past, I searched all corners; I opened my drawers and looked through my old books and diaries. I stayed awake all night, not to waste any precious moment, I struggled to leave an optimistic impression on my friends and relatives…but in vain.

All the people I met wanted to leave and never come back.

This electric palm tree just few meters from our house captured my heart, maybe because it was full of lights in a very dark city, maybe because the natural palm trees looked so sad to me. I just don’t know.

When my time was up, I behaved like a child who doesn’t want to know, I made a big fuss over silly things, I provoked a fight with my mother, and when everyone was silent trying to absorb my fury. I finally cried.

Too personal

2006-04-02T14:44:00.000Z

My first job in London was quite an experience.

I worked with an Iraqi business man who reminded me of Saddam all the time.
I hated being there, but I had no choice. I badly needed an experience to add to my c.v.
Still I did learn something in the end.

On my first day he told me that he gave me the job only because he knows my family back home, and that he thinks we have quite a few intelligent members! I was like ‘ha?’.. What is he talking about? And who the hell he thinks himself to make this judgement?

He used to pay ‘peanuts’, yet by the end of the first month he advised me to transfer my millions to Switzerland and not to deposit them in here! I thought this man is definitely a certified mental case.

His office was like a salon, a gathering of Iraqis of all kind, business men, losers, bu…..ters giving advices to each other, gossiping, and the usual if someone is new in town, 'Where are they from? Which family? Which tribe? Do they have assets? What are they going to do and of course each will add their own version of praise or criticism.

People I've never seen before, when coming in, immediately start to ask me where I live and how much this man was paying me, and often go on asking very personal questions. All fine, I am quite used to this, I do come from a curious society where this is the norm.

My work was mainly dealing with clients’ applications, something I have never done before. I used to conduct these meetings the Iraqi way, a lot of passion involved, or in another words going through unnecessary details and asking for further clarifications. Most of the people thought I am the boss’s daughter because I was so specific in my requests.
After a short while, I started to compare myself to a colleague of mine who used to do the same job but in a very different manner. He was easy going, usually accepts all applications without demanding proofs and goes home relaxed far from the stressed being I gradually became!

By then I started going to College and had made a few friends. Some of them became very close to me, and I used to hang out with them during the weekends, we even went on trips together. That is when I discovered the difference. These are my friends and yet I know very little about them. They accepted me very easily, even being a reserved person did not raise any curiosity. Still, when I needed help they were there for me.

I could easily spend hours talking to someone without even brushing on any personal matter. I discovered that this is the best way, because the conversation becomes more meaningful; we could touch on many exciting and interesting things. Wider ranges of stimulating subjects are there outside our inner circle.

Once I went with a friend to her doctor as an interpreter, she had done few tests, and was going to check the results. The minute we went in, the doctor told her bluntly that she had breast cancer. She did not need my help to understand this international term.. The woman was shocked and I was too. On our way back she was crying and shouting not because of the cancer but of how cruel this man was.

Most people here turn their own miseries to something fruitful. If someone was raped and murdered, the family usually start campaigning or form a society against rape in their area. If someone is terminally ill they do join groups with the same problem and turn the whole issue to something positive by just being with others in the same situation.

Too personal, too emotional too suspicious, and too proud to admit failure are our main traits as Iraqis.

Our first impression on strangers is that they are liars, opportunists till they prove otherwise! In here it is completely the other way round.

I fought hard to relieve myself from this negativity. I had an armchair I used to call ‘my confession place’. I forced myself daily to sit on it for at least 15 minutes and run my daily movie; what have I done, how did I react, what did I say, and usually whip myself hard.

I am often torn between feeling sorry for Iraqis back home and feeling angry at them.
It is just like when you give excuses to your loved ones whatever they do to you.
We say “Love and speak, hate and speak”.

A lifetime was spent behind slogans, Imperialism, collaborators, colonialism, Arabism, we never thought of what is beyond that.

All we actually do is giving up our own interests to spite others.

When we cannot fight the enemy we start fighting each other. We have to blame someone, anyone but our own selves.

We don’t have a high expectation, that is why you still hear people saying ‘Oh at least under Saddam we could go out relatively safe because we knew our borderlines and our limits’.

The Americans ruined our country, fine, but we let them, the terrorists are everywhere killing us, fine, but some of us housed them.

I bet even the fight over forming a government has become a personal issue between the members rather than a dispute over differences in views or opinions.

Instead of this empty pride we could have easily admitted defeat and moved on, like many others did before us. It is an unfair world, there is one great power that wants to control and apply its own order.

This is a reality we have to accept and deal with for the time being instead of banging our heads on the wall.

If the Americans leave we will be fine, For sure we will…...

The subject I don't like to speak about

2006-03-26T22:54:00.000Z

Last night one of the members in my gym was wondering about my accent. Take a guess! I replied. He immediately said, ‘are you Iraqi?’ ‘You guessed right. How did you know?’ ‘He answered back in English, I am an Iraqi Sunni! And you speak like my father!’
This guy’s mother is Swedish; his Iraqi grandparents immigrated from Iraq in the late forties! Never seen Iraq in his life and he doesn’t speak a word of Arabic.
His name though is Ali Hasan, a very Shia name!
I didn’t know whether I should laugh or get angry, I said to him, ‘What you have just stated is politically incorrect! Please go and ask your father why.’

On another incident back in December last year, I was visiting a friend of mine in the US. She is quite active politically in her city. The local TV contacted her one day, and they came over to her place for an interview about her opinion on Bush’s latest speech on Iraq.
They were very interested in speaking to me as well, as an Iraqi living in the UK.

As embarrassed as one could be, unlike my confident friend, trying to figure out how to cope with this and what to say, I was so surprised when the TV anchor woman forgot about the original subject when she learned that me and my friend come from different sects! She was on the verge of asking if we trust each other with our lives staying under the same roof!
Later on when they did broadcast the show; the first thing she mentioned was: Two Iraqi women, one Sunni and one Shia in the same house giving two different opinions!

Humanity was there before religions. We Iraqis as everyone else build our relations on the basis of being neighbours, schoolmates, workmates, etc. You pick the person you feel happy with and enjoy their company that’s all. We are no exception.

This might be an already consumed subject, but it is THE SUBJECT at the moment. I couldn’t escape it.

Many Shia in here believe that they should back a Shia government regardless of it being religious or secular. They have to be given a chance!
Many others don’t share their enthusiasm and I am one of them, for two simple reasons;

1. We don’t want a religious government of any kind; it will kill any hope of Democracy.
2. We shouldn’t define Shia and Sunni as identities. They are religious sects.

The actual sentiment now though is that these sects’ represent two different identities; unfortunately we cannot deny it.

The first time I felt the difference was in the early eighties. My mother is of Iranian origin, my father is not, and that was the reason we were saved from deportation. Still, we were treated like people carrying a contagious disease, no one wanted to speak to us the Shia before the Sunni friends. My mother was treated very badly at work which eventually led to her early retirement. My older brother who was serving in the army in the mid eighties was given the lowest rank in the army, he is an engineer and all his fellow friends were officers. It took 4years to bring him back to Baghdad as he was the only male in the family; by law he should not have served in the frontlines. His papers were destroyed every time we applied to have him transferred, because no one wanted to deal with them.

Many might say that there were a lot of Shia baathist and they did serve Saddam, what they don’t say though that there was never a majority of Shia baathist put together in one place. In the one and half year job I held, each department was placed in a different floor, My floor was occupied by a majority of Kurds, the second the majority were a mixture of Sunnis from different cities. The Minister; a Shia was ‘on an island’, not a single Shia in his office. He was scared even from his tea boy.

The strategy was not to let them be together under any form. That is why their religious ceremonies were banned.
When completely excluded from any promotion in the army and refused any political positions even before Saddam, they started their own businesses, from small trading merchants to big entrepreneurs. This was later demolished by Saddam, most of them were evicted from Iraq, and their possessions were confiscated and were distributed between his family members and others from loyal tribes.

The Shia were marginalized and sidelined through out history. It was never a religious problem. It was all to do with power.
This goes back to the time after the death of Prophet Mohammed and the conflict between his followers on who should be ruling. People who backed his cousin Imam Ali were called Shia(t) Ali or Ali’s supporters. After Imam Ali’s death his two sons (Prophet Mohammed’s grandchildren) were the best candidates to lead the Muslim nation. The first was poisoned the second is the well known martyr Imam Hussein. All Imam Hussein’s successors were killed, including the two buried in the bombed Al Askary Shrine. Nobody wanted them because they derived their power from being the descendants of Prophet Mohammed. Consequently this meant the power will stay in their hands forever. This is the legacy.

For once, the Shias have an opportunity to be part of the political process and express their voice as a majority. For them it is now or never.

This is just a simple explanation of a history full of injustice and violence.
It is not a justification for what is happening now.

There are no winners in the current struggle, only losers.

My brother says; I don’t mind a Chinese taking over, if he guarantees a peaceful and prosperous Iraq. I strongly agree.

Is it really a teething problem?

2006-03-21T22:36:00.000Z

When I miss home I go and sit in the steam room, the heat reminds me of the scorching summer of Baghdad and brings back all the memories, the ones I want to wipe off and the ones I want to cherish.

The heat contributed a lot to our hot temper, nervousness, anger; restlessness and finally the uniquely genuine warmth.

What this country has been through is unique as well. Fear, scepticism, aggression and defeat are all built in inside our souls.

Yet our warmth kept us going, our undeclared love to each other survived through decades. Most Iraqis were born and brought up and probably got married in the same house or at least stayed in the same area. You have strong relations with your neighbours, your local newsagent and kebab shop for generations.
If you are looking for someone; you can ask anyone in the street and they will show you the way. For a post man, your name in the envelope is enough to get your mail delivered. We take care of old people in the neighbourhood, I still remember an old man who used to live by himself, and for years until he passed away, all families in the street prepared his meals in turn, and took care of all his needs.
The idea of a visitor knocking on my door unexpectedly is one of the most things I miss, along with the extensive greetings and courteous terms we were brought up to practise, which really doesn’t mean anything around here.

People invest in their children’s education, and I mean all from the dustman to the top scientist. Deprivation was rather a stimulant for all to read and search and find means to maintain and repair everything in their household during the sanctions and even before. I cannot really recall a day without something essential missing from the shops. We were always manipulated and cornered somehow. When we go shopping, we used to buy so much as if there will be no tomorrow. We spent a life time running merely just to survive. All people around the world run and run but at the end of the day there is a reward, a nice holiday, a pleasure of some sort.
I was banned by my family from going to the local club because suddenly Uday started going there. Then I stopped going out with other girls to certain places to have a meal, because it was full of intelligence men and so on.

On a bigger scale, we were also deprived from our country’s wealth, our basic rights to achieve in our chosen career or higher education, unless we prove a specific loyalty. I worked in the government sector for one year and a half and was transferred four times because I did not fit in the Baath criteria, and originally come from a black listed family from the south.

Our destinies were played with from socialism to capitalism to tribalism or Islamism; all depended on Saddam moods.

People are fighting now to prove who was more oppressed under the regime.
I think all decent and honest Iraqis were.

It is true that some sects suffered more. But at the end of the day this was a general strategy and it was applied even on the closest aides of Saddam, when his disturbed mind gave him orders to kill and destroy.

When the 2003 invasion took place, I had mixed feelings, I was scared because every single person from my immediate family is there, and then I thought is it possible that our interests suddenly met with the Americans? Are we really going to wake up from our nightmare?

War means death and destruction that is for sure, but is it going to be our last one?
I wanted to believe this myth.

When I finally heard from my family by mid April 2003, they were not bothered to speak about what happened rather than what is going to happen. The long awaited freedom is finally there. My mother felt sorry for the people who died before witnessing this glorious day!

The rest we all know. By the time Iraqis pulled themselves together and started to read newspapers and watch what was going on in the world around them. The country was being ripped off by the Coalition Provisional Authority and the people they employed, the borders were left widely open, and the army was disbanded without any alternative.

Three years have passed by only to find out that even our functioning services started to fall apart. Our health system which was the envy of all countries of the region was destroyed; highly specialised doctors were replaced by stupid mentors and unqualified people and so on.

None of our neighbours want to see a stable Iraq. They are all playing the Iraqi card; for Iran to go ahead with the nuclear project in return of keeping their hands off Iraq,

For the Syrian to stop the terrorists flow, Americans has to cease their threats and interference.
Saudis want to export their maniacs across the borders, Kuwaitis want to revenge.

Israelis behaving like a possessive lover lobbying constantly to be the one and only in America’s heart, and have no intention of letting any country in the Middle East rise up.

The majority of Iraqis are jobless and hopeless, they are soft targets, easily provoked and deluded. The voice of reason is very low, because nothing relates to reason anymore. It is a matter of life or death which you have to face every second.

Iraq has become like a sinking ship, we try to close one hole, only to find out there is another one. The rats have done their business.

Many around here still think it is a teething problem. It looks to me the teeth have long come out and start to bite….I wish I am wrong.

My own experience with Democracy

2006-03-16T00:02:00.000Z

The word Democracy itself sounds like music to the ear.
All speak about it, run after it and want to achieve it.

For me it first meant security, few years later it developed to fairness, and further on, to get one’s rights to the full; the last stage the word itself diminished and all I care for is how to cope with new taxes, change in interest rate, and the rise in fuel and transport fares and so on.

Gradually one becomes like a robot, so engrossed with daily demands, you can hardly think of how to change a reality rather than trying to live with it.

I often wonder who programmed this nation. And how?
One might say, it took them centuries to reach this stage. It is true, but people learn from others, they don’t necessarily have to go through the same experience. It is just like making use of an invention.

When I first moved in to my new flat, I thought that's it; it is time to settle and relax. Years and years have passed by and I still feel I am on transit. I thought I have to accept what is on offer and get along with life.
The first day I had to install my beloved satellite dish, my only connection to the world I belong to and try to forget about.
I did after making sure that there were two dishes already fixed on the block’s facade.
Soon after I started to receive letters from a neighbour that I have already met and spoke to, and literally lives next door!

The letters were quite upsetting and intimidating. I was puzzled by this behaviour, why doesn’t this bloody man speak to me and tell me exactly what he wants? To cut the long story short; the city council permits only two dishes in one block(mine was the third), when I spoke to them; they said if no one from the residents objects they will disregard the complaint, and advised me to speak to the neighbours. I tried to talk to him, but he avoided me, and pushed the matters further to the block management. The end was me taking the dish down and pay a good some of money as a penalty!
I learned two lessons from this incident; first to be very careful with the regulations, and the second is to document any correspondence with anyone in the future.
I later had another clash with this man, when I took care of the tiny garden in front of my flat which was completely neglected, and planted some flowers. He sent me another letter to say that the garden is not mine and it is for communal use! This time I was sure I am not doing anything wrong. I replied in writing and expressed my worries about him being racist and that he has a problem with my dark hair and dark skin. That shut him up till this day.
The third lesson here is that I was completely protected by an ethical issue. Any racist remark would certainly put anyone in a big trouble.

Whoever runs this country banks on one major fact. People don’t communicate with each other. They have a strange habit of acceptance.
If the train stops suddenly or there was a big traffic jam, people just stand still waiting silently as if nothing has happened. I used to boil and start looking at them to get some reaction; like we should go and strangle the driver or get off the car and see what is holding the flow. But after years of training I became worse than them.

When people do communicate, usually on big matters, like the war on Iraq for example? At least a million rallied in a huge demonstration from all over the country, even people on wheel chairs. Meetings and gatherings well organised, programs on TV, newspapers, leaflets everywhere. Still we all know what happened…..

So what does democracy really mean?

You choose one of two parties, or three or even ten. One of the first two will win.
From that minute you have to accept any changes occur afterwards, even if they contradict the party manifesto. After all it was your free choice!
Internal policies are affected by the change of governments, but the external strategy is more or less the same.

You can speak on any subject; campaign on any issue; political, social or even personal but that it all about it.

The state main duty is basically to collect taxes. 90% of businesses and services are run by the private sector.
Everything is subjected to tax, probably only the air we breathe has not been taxed as yet.

The conclusion is we are all employed in a huge company, we give and take, and we are equals in front of the law.

When I went home early 2004, I felt so optimistic seeing the shops full of different goods, and people shopping and finding all they want for a change. I thought this is a good sign. You can fight sectarianism, crimes, bribes, aggression, revenge and even anger with a solid economy. If people are busy making money and improving their lives, they will have no time to run after Mullahs or certain figures.

Then when the situation deteriorated in Baghdad, I thought the esteemed government might invest in one of the relatively safe cities of the south and make it an example for others to follow. Nothing of a kind took place. In fact the people in these cities were left with nothing but to join the crowd and contribute to the chaos.

Iraq was let down and betrayed by its own people before anyone else.

I wonder if we still have hope.

Have some mercy on us!

2006-03-11T13:56:00.000Z

Does it really require men to pull Iraq out of this mess?
Whatever they said so far is gibberish; all they wrote was only waffle.

Look how stubborn and single-minded they have been. Is it that hard to compromise? Is it that complicated to reach an understanding? Their false pride and greed for power weighs more than the Iraqi blood on the scale.

Why not women for a change?
If we want to apply democracy, we are more in numbers.
If qualifications are the issue, we have enough qualified women.
If experience is the question, Iraqi women ran the country in the eighties and continued through the nineties.
Up to now, look at them, finding new means and creating new methods to survive.
They have always been the unknown soldiers, struggling daily to protect their families inside their houses and out. They proved to be more resilient, robust and flexible.

Women in general are a threat to men, not only in Iraq but all over
In our part of the world they cover them and restrict their movement, in here they are under-paid, encouraged to be models and single mothers rather than go and acquire some education.
Women are hindered and their efforts are obstructed on daily basis.

They say behind every successful man there is a good woman. It should be re-phrased:
There is no one behind a successful woman!

Iraqi women were brought up to believe that all revolves around the happiness of men and their comfort and progress. Whatever women achieve they have one destiny, getting married and have children, when it comes to men all options are open.

I happen to know a couple both doctors, all I hear is how the man passed all his exams and became a consultant and a brilliant surgeon, for years this was the story. When I meet them, I see a dedicated wife running around to make sure everyone is settled and happy, I could see how her face brightens up every time someone praises the husband the achiever, how tired and drained he is. Once I asked her about her job? She simply answered that she is only a pathologist and works from 9 to 6. And when my inquisitive mind pressed further, she turned out to be a forensic doctor! Working in a morgue and deals daily with corpses and police investigations! And everyone was so worried about her poor husband.
Another very young woman came over from Iraq to meet up with a husband who is in debt up to his head, four years ago. In no time she found a job, settled what they owe, had a mortgage arranged and even had a baby!

The difference between men and women is that women have more common sense and could react under stressful conditions. They are simply more resourceful.
Instead of moaning when things get tough, they move on and do something.
I have many more examples of dreaming men sitting at home planning to become rich and hard-working women silently handling their jobs and children.

The number of single Iraqi mothers in here is quite high; marriages brake off easily if they were built on brittle bases. Ours are the best candidates; usually arranged or based on hasty decisions you name it. When people are out of their normal environment and suddenly alone, things take different turn. The issue is that women proved to be determined and focused. My cousin have three children, her husband chose to marry another woman and left her alone. She was 43 years old when she decided to pursue her career as a doctor! In four years she passed all her exams and single-handedly raised her children.

To get a British driving licence is quite tough, the funny part is Iraqi women pass rate from the first trial is higher than men! The reason is again simple; women abide and listen, men think they are cool and have to show their heroics and their outstanding driving skills, so the result is obvious!
One woman I know said her husband failed and she passed, but she cannot drive, he is so furious and every time they go out, he insists that she goes and take the test again because he doesn’t trust her with the car!

Women support their men and push them forward, men in general don’t.
Many Iraqi men in here refuse to send their wives to Colleges to learn English; they found this threatening! They only encourage them to mix with their own people and give the usual excuses of culture and religion.

Women run all effective Iraqi charities established in here.
There is a charity that started mid nineties and used to support Iraqi refugee camps after the war 1991 outside the Iraqi borders. The founder is a woman, without any fuss around her she used to deliver and still is.
The Iraqi orphan Foundation, solely operated by women has a base in Iraq and clear agendas to help and support. Ordinary, not even highly educated women; but diligent and level headed, collecting donations, keeping their books tidy.
The accuracy of the work is admirable.

When I watch Iraqi TV, I see many so-called political analysts, most of them men full of nonsense, their very few women counterparts give fully comprehensive views which impose respect even if you don’t agree with them.

There is a program on Iraqi TV now about giving free-interest loans for people to start businesses or small projects. What amazes me really is the number of women attendees, and especially the ones with their husbands sitting at home waiting for the loan!
I cannot get it! Why don’t they go themselves?

Women have to do the dirty jobs, and men still have the guts to give orders.
Shame on you.

It is time for Iraqi men politicians to retire and have a long rest.

I am all for women.

The Rage

2006-03-07T09:54:00.000Z

George Bernard Shaw once said “Islam is the best religion with the worst followers”

Is it true?

Religion should bring peace and fill one’s heart with calmness, why Muslims are full of rage?

Why are they constantly trying to prove a point? And what is their point anyway?

I’ve came across many Muslims young and old, and a lot of them project anger and inferiority.

I am not in a position of discussing Islam in here; I have observations only;

Lately, a Muslim trainee joined us at work; he worked in my department. We had a big row because he insisted on leaving for 2hours every Friday for the prayers in a certain Mosque, I tried to explain that there is a near by Mosque which he can use, but no way. He filed a complaint against me, and said that I represent a bad image to Islam and all the rest. In the end, it was suggested that he wouldn’t get paid for these two hours to make all parties happy. Guess what? He started praying in the local Mosque, but of course was moved to another department!

My cousin was in a bus during Ramadan, and the driver left the bus for 15 minutes to break his fast! When he came back, and to the astonishment of the passengers, he preached them on the benefits of fasting, and of how they should respect other peoples’ faith.

Once I attended a conference through work, nothing to do with religion of course, and during the café break, one of the lecturers who happened to be a Muslim suddenly forced a religious conversation; and started a Heaven and Hell subject. He literally told everyone that only Muslims would go to Heaven! One said what about scientists? Thomas Edison for example? The Muslim man had no problem, and immediately replied; Edison will probably linger in the “Barzakh” (that is an area between Heaven and Hell described in the Quran), so he decided that Edison case would be an outstanding one for a while! In another words he played God and left him jobless.

That man Omar Khayam (not the poet) a 22years old Muslim who went out shouting and threatening in the demonstration back during the cartoon crisis, dressed in a suicide bomber outfit; turned out to be a cracked cocaine dealer and tagged by the police! But his pride was so overwhelming; he was not even bothered to keep a low profile!

An Arab who was so angry about the overthrown of Saddam, told me confidently that Saddam is a Muslim after all!
So, if a Muslim slaughters Iraqis it is ok, the slaughtering would be Halal!

You meet with people who have the cheek to say that they have a mission to turn this society to a Muslim one. Why? Simply because they can open their mouths freely and say so. Living in a secular society allowed them to practice this right.

It is a well-known fact that separating religion from politics made peoples’ lives better.

Why do Muslims project death and martyrdom, why don’t they say the basis of Islam is “who ever wishes to meet God, let them have a good deed in life and worship the one and only God”.
Islam encourages people to work, probably the only religion clearly stating that Work is the real worship, why don’t they show it?

Iraqis think having one joint problem or enemy or one leader or goal or faith make them stronger. I used to think the same. I felt so insecure when I came here because people are so diverse in their problems, in their beliefs even in their pleasure, I thought that is why there is no warmth in here; everyone leads a separate route. But later I found out that this is how it should be. Security comes from inside. Hiding behind others and trying to gain confidence and power through them is an illusion.
People were born to be different and they will continue to be so.

Faith is wonderful, I still remember my late uncle while trying to avoid my questioning eyes seeing him drinking alcohol, saying: Listen having faith in something, even if it was a piece of rock is better than being faithless.

Be religious, be atheist, be agnostic, be gay, be straight. You have your territory and I have mine.

I have to say this, not sure if it is related but, Tony Blair shocked a lot of people last night when he was cornered about his miscalculations of the Iraqi war by saying: I will be judged by God on that!

The over-stretching of an already respected freedom keeps on amazing me.

The Media

2006-03-03T10:30:00.000Z

Rain Rain Rain, the theme of this city; it’s all about rain.

When it gets to me, I remember this conversation with a friend I was supposed to meet one day; I phoned to cancel the appointment because it was pouring outside; my friend laughed at me and said “Listen, if you are planning to live in this country you better make a move, otherwise you will spend your life indoors”, I replied: but this is beyond the point, I checked the weather yesterday and they said it is going to be dry! He laughed again and said what do you think then? The weather man is misleading us? We live in an island, and it is just impossible to be accurate.

It suddenly hit me; I come from a country where the media lies all the time; to the extent that people don’t even trust them with the weather forecast!

It took me ages to clear myself from many inhibitions, such as speaking about Saddam over the phone, expressing my views freely, have faith in Newspapers and TV channels. I was astounded when I learned that no TV channel represents the government views! We are blessed with the BBC, and it is by large an independent entity.
No major incident will take over the TV screen; everything goes as planned.

On the 4th of November every year, we have Guy fawkes night, where fireworks fill the skies, and people usually gather in Parks to celebrate. I still laugh at a friend of my mother who phoned me once on that night and she was certain it was the Queen’s birthday!

The media in this time and age is the core of information and it is accessible to all.
Let alone the rule it played already in changing governments’ policies and the pressure it puts on politicians, it could build up or ruin someone’s career and future in seconds. It is probably the most feared power at the moment.

When it comes to Iraq though, there was an impact, it did not happen gradually.
We were hijacked for decades; imprisoned in the same circle;
We hear what the regime wanted us to hear, our mouths were shut and our actions were watched.

Free Media in Iraq is a double-edged sword, in a way it is the only tangible achievement since April 2003, on the other hand it became a tool to incite hate and revenge. This is normal in a normal society, but Iraq is so fragile at this minute, the effect could be anything.

Simple Iraqis have a mental loop, they listen to what they like to hear, freedom of speech in the new Iraq means imposing your ideas on others. One will never move forward if they don’t listen to what they don’t like to hear and accept it. After all there is no shoe fits for all.

What happened last week tells a lot, it might have brought the ordinary Iraqis together but for how long they can hold on? Has it really made any changes to the formation of a national-unity government?
Even if it did, it is not going to be genuine, it is going to be a struggle between contending power groups.

For some the agenda was “We are not joining the play, but we will ruin the playground” this did not help anyone then, on the contrary it helped building militias and generated anger and more distrust. Now their agenda is “We are joining the play, with conditions otherwise we will pursue ruining the playground”

For others the above was a boost to their morale and gave them a licence to kill.
I am not a political analyst, but today we have men in black, tomorrow we might get others in green or blue. We have parties fighting over power. The good intentions whatever they say or do are not real.

There is a major conflict of interests among all, and these interests represent selfish and self-centred bodies, nothing in it for us. None of the UIA,NAF,INL or KA could care less about Iraqis. These are people who care and only care about finding new ways to suck the country’s resources and sit on top watching us killing each other. They are targeting our security and our right to live and let live.

The winner is the one who will have the decency to step down and refuse to take part in the slaughtering.

The Love Hate relationship

2006-02-27T10:36:00.000Z

I thought to myself why am I going to this place? I feel so down and this meeting will only agitate and distress me more. I am not mentally prepared for it today. A diversity of Iraqis put together, almost always we end up agreeing to disagree, if we are lucky, or a fight erupts causing embarrassment to the host.

In the end, I dragged myself and hit the road.

I went into a dark room; I thought what is going on? It is such a glorious sunny day outside! It took me few seconds to adjust and realise that there was a screen and someone was showing slides. I sat down and was taken by this woman architect speaking passionately about Samarra shrine, this invaluable heritage, how it was built and when, the values it holds to all Muslims around the world. When she finally finished, most of us were in tears. The architect was a Christian; the audience were a mixture of all sects and religions.

What happened next was extraordinary, the usual rivals sat together exchanging views, the eternal enemies prayed together and asked for God’s mercy on Iraqis.

Meanwhile I was recalling some clips from previous meetings; that man said; the Americans should leave and let us have our civil war; whoever wins rules. The other was really offended and answered back with another plan of letting the Shia take over and prove they are right or wrong for the next four years. Few old women who have their sons or relatives back home; were defending their presence in there; “they are fighting to build the new Iraq” (not sure about that), others (probably envious) replied that theirs will never go back to co-operate with the invaders.

The funny argument is always about intermarriages, someone would jokingly say all Sunnis are bad except my husband because he is married to me and I am a Shia! and vice versa. This could get really serious sometimes!

Probably our problem is that we are non-confrontational people, we go in circles in order not to say one direct word. We love giving different names instead of one clear definition.
Year after year I watched this matter accelerating and turn nasty. Some get aggressive for nothing, I sometimes feel ashamed when asked about what is the real difference between a Shia and a Sunni.

What shall I answer? Each is trying to prove a 1400 years old point of view?

Those past few days brought the awareness to how ugly a civil war could be.

On my way back home I thought of the first lesson we learned in History; “Divide and Rule” the policy practised in Iraq after the First World War.

Saddam excessively used the same policy until it reached our own households.

One way or another emphasis on sectarianism was there all the time, it took different shapes and forms, but it was there, a card in the hands of whoever ruled Iraq.

A six years old Iraqi kid knows exactly what the above means

Now, and for the first time in Iraq’s modern history we are facing each other.

However, each party is flirting one another and talking about brotherhood,
But once matters get tough, each put conditions and hides away and starts re-charging their followers with more hate and violence.

My friends and Family back home say people are protecting their areas by forming in groups to guard their properties and Mosques; on TV I watched how people are complying with the curfew by showing their readiness to suffer more and more if it will bring peace in the end.

The battle to avert a civil war has started, it reached our thresholds.

It is irrelevant who the enemy is anymore.

When I arrived home, I felt very proud and slept soundly.

Israel

2006-02-23T10:41:00.000Z

The word itself used to scare the hell out of me, the eternal enemy that we don’t want to hear about. The devil we were breast fed to hate, and brought up to loathe.

Once I was on the train speaking loudly in Arabic with a friend, I could see an older woman looking at us curiously in a friendly way; she didn’t wait long and started to speak to us in Iraqi dialect which sounded like Maslawi. Later we got off in the same stop, and we walked together just to find out that she lives few blocks from my house.
The chill I had when I learned that she is an Iraqi Jew was tremendous, all the scenarios about the Mosad and their devious ways to recruit people came flashing in front of my eyes, I had nightmares for a week.
Eventually and without going through details, this woman became the mother I miss, and I became the daughter she never had.

The first problem that faced me was the word Israel, I couldn’t pronounce it, it felt like if I say it, it means I am approving of its existence, frankly I still cannot! But she understands, and always say; Difference doesn’t mean, there is no love left!

Through this relation, I met many of her friends and relatives, and learned a lot about their culture.
What amazes me most is their unity, people from all over, share one love, and have one vow. Their so-called country is beyond any argument and above any disagreement. Middle-eastern Jews are less in favour, and probably they don’t have the same opportunities as European Jews, but they don’t even dare to mention this, because simply there is a bigger cause; the cause of survival.

What is wrong with us? I don’t know. How an illusion could bring people together and a reality draws them apart?

America is not the greatest power in the world, Israel is.

I’ve just watched Muqtada Sader speaking to journalists and addressing them Habibi this and Habibi that! The supposedly graduate of Hawza! If he hadn’t learned anything, at least he should have grabbed the fine language! Let alone the context.

Or the other guy Harith Al Dhari, full of venom, his poisonous speeches and the cruel face expressions tells you in your face “there is no hope left”.

These are our examples; they are trading with peoples’ lives. Tell me had anyone of them guided their followers towards something fruitful? What are they preaching about in Mosques? They speak about unity, but have they showed us any means to implement it? They speak about loving each other, but love requires proofs. Give them shovels instead of guns, push them to clean and build their local areas. People are left with nothing but anger. They had no dreams before, and now they are left with nightmares.

Who bombed Samarra shrine? Who killed this young and beautiful journalist Atwar Bahjat?
Who is responsible for the killings of our scientists, who is responsible for this sectarian rift? who is feeding hatred and revenge?

1. The Americans and their allies
2: Saddam's followers
3: The foreign fighters
4: Our religous leaders
5: Our government to be

We are much more in numbers than all of them together,
Why let them control our fate and destiny?
Our interests should join us, not our faith or false commitments.

I am not denying the catastrophic situation, as much as trying to heal it with love.

For Iraqis I will say please please don't let this saying apply to us “ Ya Umaton thahikat min Jahliha Al Umamo”

The re-start

2006-02-20T12:51:00.000Z

Hala_s is only a name added to many Iraqi bloggers who have been dedicating their time and efforts to write about the Iraqi story.
We all share one objective that is to reach a happy ending one day soon.

I live and work in London for some time now. I might be far, but in reality very close.
Not a typical Iraqi woman, simply because I am exposed to a different culture and live under different threats. But I never felt for a second that this is home.

My dream is to go back and live in Baghdad.

That’s it.

Please accept my first post on this page, and if you are interested, read my other two published in Asterism