Pulling her from the rubble, Hayat was already dead. Her mother, full of blood on her clothes and head followed her talking to her as if she is alive. By that time, Hayat's soul was flying to heaven.
"What we saw on TV come true Hayat… wake up Hayat… bring your history book… history book is gone Hayat…" wailed the Syrian mother who saw her son and, her two daughters and husband die in front of her eyes in the deadly explosion that targeted the housing complex in Saudi Arabiya.
"Oh Nation of Islam… Oh Nation of Mohammed… Oh Nation of Quran… they killed our sons, No God but Allah," wailed Um Yousif, the mother beating her head and looking at the sky while the rescuers were taking her coal-blacked children into the ambulances.
Um Yousif is a kind of the typical mother who sacrifices herself for the sake of her children whom she lost in the blast. When she first heard the news on TV about the car bomb moving in Riyadh, she felt something would horrible happen but she didn't expect it soon. One day, Hayat, her 8 year-old daughter called her mother to sleep with her in the room. "Don't turn off the lights Mom, I am afraid," Hayat said. "After I saw the news on Television, I started dreaming I am flying every day in heaven."
The Sudanese guard, Bahhiya the Egyptian woman, the Lebanese woman, Farah the Syrian bride, the Jordanian father, and many others were killed with Um Yousif's children in the blast.
Before the explosion, Farah, the bride, was sleeping on the sofa when the explosion happened. Part of her body and face was distorted and she became paralyzed.
Farah, in her early twenties reminded me with Vivian, an Iraqi bride whose face was completely distorted besides losing her husband in a car bomb explosion targeted Mount Lebanon Hotel in Baghdad On March 17, 2004 where At least 27 civilians were killed and 40 injured. Many of the victims were Iraqi families who lived in the adjacent buildings, but other victims were foreigners, including two British citizens.
"My life is finished. My heart is broken. Everything in me is broken. I feel like a dead person with open eyes," I remember Vivian saying sitting limply on her parents' couch. "I don't know who to blame; I just pray to God that no one else should ever have to see what I have seen."
On the night of March 17, Vivian was pulled barely alive from the rubble of her house. Her husband and three of his relatives perished inside the collapsed building, leaving Vivian a widow at 23.
"We were a hopeful couple with a simple life. My husband went to work and came home. But then it all gone in a minute, and he died for no reason," Vivian said. Her voice was angry came out her motionless jaws.
Sunday, October 30, 2005
Saturday, October 29, 2005
"The New Iraq" - Treasure of Baghdad's Diary
Yesterday was one of the quietest days I ever had. No explosions reported, at least in Baghdad. I left home at 8:30 a.m. and arrived the office at 8:50 a.m. as the streets were empty being on Friday. I did not have much to do that morning which made me log into my Yahoo messenger and chat with some of my friends.
At 11:30 a.m., I went out for some work. When I finished, I told my friend who was driving that I want to buy a Hookah! We went to Mansur neighborhood and bought a nice one.
Usually, when I finish work at night, I visit my friends who gather everyday at the house of A.L., to have fun and forget about the tiring day we spend. My friends are a mixture of sects and cities, Sunnis and Shiites. All of them were born in Baghdad but originally are from other cities. Having friends from Kirkuk, Samarra, Falluja, Mosul, Najaf, and Baghdad, we call ourselves "The New Iraq". We never talk about our sects or religion when we meet each other. What we care about is how we share our happy times together. When we smoke Hookah, many subjects come in our discourse. We speak about the current situation in the country, our families, work, relationships, cell phones, internet, technology, and some other things. Our company eases all the hard time we are going through these days. S., one of my friends has a high sense of humor. He's the dynamic of the group. If we just look at his smiling face, we feel comfortable.
I returned back home at 10:30 p.m., took a shower, had some fruits and watched my favorite Arabic Show, Alhoor Alain, and then went to sleep.
Today, I went to a press conference by a group of politicians announcing their political alliance for the coming elections. The way to the office of the politician's office is newly paved and the sidewalks are decorated with different kinds of roses. What a tragedy! The streets of Baghdad are completely terrible, dusty, and full of garbage while the street of Mr. Politician is full of roses. I should congratulate myself for having such a man who cares about people.
When I returned back to the office, a breaking news on all News TV channels drew my attention. "Dozens killed and wounded in the Indian capital by four explosions targeted hotels," the breaking news bar read. Now, these deadly attacks targeted innocent people once again. This reminds me with an editorial headline in one of the Iraqi newspapers, "We Have Had Enough Mudslinging". I leave the comment on that for you.
Just now, dozens of Iraqi civilians killed and wounded by a suicide car bomb exploded in Baqubah, 40 miles, north of Baghdad at Iftar time.
Anyway. Also today, J1., my muse, returned back to the office. She brought me my favorite food Lasagna which I first tasted it with her in Amman last year.
Every Saturday I take a day off. This Saturday it did not. O asked me if he can take it instead of me and I take next Monday. O wanted to spend the day with one of his closest friends who has just came back from Dubai and will stay in Baghdad for few days only. I did not mind at all since I know how he misses his friend and how happy he became when he received a phone call from him announcing he is in Baghdad.
At 11:30 a.m., I went out for some work. When I finished, I told my friend who was driving that I want to buy a Hookah! We went to Mansur neighborhood and bought a nice one.
Usually, when I finish work at night, I visit my friends who gather everyday at the house of A.L., to have fun and forget about the tiring day we spend. My friends are a mixture of sects and cities, Sunnis and Shiites. All of them were born in Baghdad but originally are from other cities. Having friends from Kirkuk, Samarra, Falluja, Mosul, Najaf, and Baghdad, we call ourselves "The New Iraq". We never talk about our sects or religion when we meet each other. What we care about is how we share our happy times together. When we smoke Hookah, many subjects come in our discourse. We speak about the current situation in the country, our families, work, relationships, cell phones, internet, technology, and some other things. Our company eases all the hard time we are going through these days. S., one of my friends has a high sense of humor. He's the dynamic of the group. If we just look at his smiling face, we feel comfortable.
I returned back home at 10:30 p.m., took a shower, had some fruits and watched my favorite Arabic Show, Alhoor Alain, and then went to sleep.
Today, I went to a press conference by a group of politicians announcing their political alliance for the coming elections. The way to the office of the politician's office is newly paved and the sidewalks are decorated with different kinds of roses. What a tragedy! The streets of Baghdad are completely terrible, dusty, and full of garbage while the street of Mr. Politician is full of roses. I should congratulate myself for having such a man who cares about people.
When I returned back to the office, a breaking news on all News TV channels drew my attention. "Dozens killed and wounded in the Indian capital by four explosions targeted hotels," the breaking news bar read. Now, these deadly attacks targeted innocent people once again. This reminds me with an editorial headline in one of the Iraqi newspapers, "We Have Had Enough Mudslinging". I leave the comment on that for you.
Just now, dozens of Iraqi civilians killed and wounded by a suicide car bomb exploded in Baqubah, 40 miles, north of Baghdad at Iftar time.
Anyway. Also today, J1., my muse, returned back to the office. She brought me my favorite food Lasagna which I first tasted it with her in Amman last year.
Every Saturday I take a day off. This Saturday it did not. O asked me if he can take it instead of me and I take next Monday. O wanted to spend the day with one of his closest friends who has just came back from Dubai and will stay in Baghdad for few days only. I did not mind at all since I know how he misses his friend and how happy he became when he received a phone call from him announcing he is in Baghdad.
Thursday, October 27, 2005
Treasure of Baghdad's Diary
A new thought came to my mind while I was reading Anthony Shadid's book, Night Draws Near. "why don't I start writing my diary on the blog?" I wondered. Finally I decided. It will reflect how life looks like for a young man like me in a country torn between politics and violence.
After watching an interesting episode of Alhoor Alain late last night, I woke up tired and sleepy this morning. My telephone alarm rang at 7 a.m. "Shit," I said. "I want to sleep."
I didn't have a breakfast because I was fasting and I went out to take a taxi to go to work. Usually, I go to Palestine Street where I meet a colleague of mine whom I go with. I have to go there because no taxi drivers take me to the place where I work since it's far and "dangerous".
"Be careful, don't go use the National Theater road," another colleague told me by telephone. "A car bomb exploded there. Police cordoned the area," he said.
I told my colleague and we used another road which made us reach the office within one hour while it takes us 30 minutes maximum. While he was driving, a convoy of interior ministry commandos horrified the people in the street by shooting in the air to separate the vehicles to avoid any possible attack. Using the back of his rifle, one of the commandos broke the side mirror of one car driving. "How scary this is!" my colleague said. "We are starting our day with this incident."
These days, my mood is not like it used to be. My best friends who are also reporters are not present. My muse, J1., is doing a story in another place and the other dear friend, J2., is leaving the country tomorrow and I might not be able to see her for along time. What compensates me is the presence of my dearest male friend, O., whom I consider a brother since I don't have brothers.
I have friends on the internet as well whom I trust and share knowledge and friendship at the same time. The closest ones are G. from India, Z. from N.Z., and H. from Iraq. Sometimes I feel I bother them with my daily complains about the situation but they are so understandable. I feel so comfortable when I talk to them.
I feel them and I feel they are sitting next to me.
Thinking the whole day of the situation in the country makes me really tired. I am trying not to make this affect my life but I don't know till when this will continue. I am worried about my parents and my sister's family more than myself. Few days ago, a huge attack occurred against the Sheraton and Palestine hotels where many western journalists live and work.
"We have to leave," said my mother while we were watching the news. "This country is being destroyed and we cannot endure such life here," she added. "Where can we go?" wondered my father who seemed didn't like the idea. "We can rent the house and go live in Amman for some time at least," she replied.
It's getting very hard for them and for me as well to endure such a difficult life while they used to live normal life from the fifties to the end of the seventies. They endured life in three consequent wars that turned the developed country into a backwards one controlled by failure government and foreign terrorists.
Today, I went to Adhamiya, the Sunni neighborhood, to do some reporting. The streets were so crowded. A traffic policeman left his position at an intersection in central Adhamiya which made the people stuck and refuse to move as each one wants to go first. There was no traffic lights because there was no electricity, as usual. I finished reporting and went back to the office.
The way to Adhamiya used to be very clean, but not any more. Because of the lack of the services in Baghdad, people started throwing their garbage in the streets. I hate this and I wish the people should cooperate with the municipality to restore the clean Baghdad
Before Iftar, J2., who is leaving tomorrow, came to spend her last day in Baghdad with us. We all had Iftar and then she went to her apartment to pack her luggage. She came back an hour and half later. O. was gone by that time as one of his best friends arrived from Dubai. He hasn't seen him for years. We sat down and talked for along time. We talked about her, me, my stories, her stories and about Baghdad itself.
"My house is in Egypt, but my heart is here," she said. We talked about Anthony Shadid's book, Night Draws Near, and the amazing way he describes Iraqis and Iraq before and during the war. "His words make me feel the situation again although I am Iraqi and I went through all the periods mentioned in the book," I said. There was apart I loved in the first chapter of the book. It's about the feeling of one of the most famous sculptor, Maohammed Ghani. "Baghdad …. is the heart of the Arab civilization. Baghdad was the capital of religion and power. It was the capital of Arabs, the golden age of Islam. Arab poetry was Iraqi poetry…. Baghdad is still Baghdad." Shadid quoted Ghani in his book. "It made my tear fall when I read this part," I told J2. "I cannot wait to finish reading it and read J1's book," I continued.
Hugging her, I told J2., "I'll miss you a lot."
"I know, I'll miss you a lot too," she said. Then I left back home and the time was 9:30 p.m. which is a dangerous time to leave in Baghdad.
After watching an interesting episode of Alhoor Alain late last night, I woke up tired and sleepy this morning. My telephone alarm rang at 7 a.m. "Shit," I said. "I want to sleep."
I didn't have a breakfast because I was fasting and I went out to take a taxi to go to work. Usually, I go to Palestine Street where I meet a colleague of mine whom I go with. I have to go there because no taxi drivers take me to the place where I work since it's far and "dangerous".
"Be careful, don't go use the National Theater road," another colleague told me by telephone. "A car bomb exploded there. Police cordoned the area," he said.
I told my colleague and we used another road which made us reach the office within one hour while it takes us 30 minutes maximum. While he was driving, a convoy of interior ministry commandos horrified the people in the street by shooting in the air to separate the vehicles to avoid any possible attack. Using the back of his rifle, one of the commandos broke the side mirror of one car driving. "How scary this is!" my colleague said. "We are starting our day with this incident."
These days, my mood is not like it used to be. My best friends who are also reporters are not present. My muse, J1., is doing a story in another place and the other dear friend, J2., is leaving the country tomorrow and I might not be able to see her for along time. What compensates me is the presence of my dearest male friend, O., whom I consider a brother since I don't have brothers.
I have friends on the internet as well whom I trust and share knowledge and friendship at the same time. The closest ones are G. from India, Z. from N.Z., and H. from Iraq. Sometimes I feel I bother them with my daily complains about the situation but they are so understandable. I feel so comfortable when I talk to them.
I feel them and I feel they are sitting next to me.
Thinking the whole day of the situation in the country makes me really tired. I am trying not to make this affect my life but I don't know till when this will continue. I am worried about my parents and my sister's family more than myself. Few days ago, a huge attack occurred against the Sheraton and Palestine hotels where many western journalists live and work.
"We have to leave," said my mother while we were watching the news. "This country is being destroyed and we cannot endure such life here," she added. "Where can we go?" wondered my father who seemed didn't like the idea. "We can rent the house and go live in Amman for some time at least," she replied.
It's getting very hard for them and for me as well to endure such a difficult life while they used to live normal life from the fifties to the end of the seventies. They endured life in three consequent wars that turned the developed country into a backwards one controlled by failure government and foreign terrorists.
Today, I went to Adhamiya, the Sunni neighborhood, to do some reporting. The streets were so crowded. A traffic policeman left his position at an intersection in central Adhamiya which made the people stuck and refuse to move as each one wants to go first. There was no traffic lights because there was no electricity, as usual. I finished reporting and went back to the office.
The way to Adhamiya used to be very clean, but not any more. Because of the lack of the services in Baghdad, people started throwing their garbage in the streets. I hate this and I wish the people should cooperate with the municipality to restore the clean Baghdad
Before Iftar, J2., who is leaving tomorrow, came to spend her last day in Baghdad with us. We all had Iftar and then she went to her apartment to pack her luggage. She came back an hour and half later. O. was gone by that time as one of his best friends arrived from Dubai. He hasn't seen him for years. We sat down and talked for along time. We talked about her, me, my stories, her stories and about Baghdad itself.
"My house is in Egypt, but my heart is here," she said. We talked about Anthony Shadid's book, Night Draws Near, and the amazing way he describes Iraqis and Iraq before and during the war. "His words make me feel the situation again although I am Iraqi and I went through all the periods mentioned in the book," I said. There was apart I loved in the first chapter of the book. It's about the feeling of one of the most famous sculptor, Maohammed Ghani. "Baghdad …. is the heart of the Arab civilization. Baghdad was the capital of religion and power. It was the capital of Arabs, the golden age of Islam. Arab poetry was Iraqi poetry…. Baghdad is still Baghdad." Shadid quoted Ghani in his book. "It made my tear fall when I read this part," I told J2. "I cannot wait to finish reading it and read J1's book," I continued.
Hugging her, I told J2., "I'll miss you a lot."
"I know, I'll miss you a lot too," she said. Then I left back home and the time was 9:30 p.m. which is a dangerous time to leave in Baghdad.
Sunday, October 23, 2005
Seven Things !!
I was tagged by Hassan to do this assignment and I found it really exciting. I hope you like my seven things!
Seven things I plan to do:
1.Go to the United States.
2.Build my career.
3.Try to make my parents always happy.
4.Get the M.A. in writing abroad, probably in the United States.
5.Never lose a sincere friend.
6.Read the book of one of my best friends, Jackie.
7.Finish reading Anthony Shadid's book 'Night Draws Near'.
Seven things I can do:
1.Write a story.
2.Speak American English fluently.
3.Watch news regularly.
4.Spend time with my family and friends even if I am tired and exhausted.
5.Have as much friends as I can.
6.Show the one whom I don't like how I don't like him/her.
7.Watch news bulletin on three TV sets at once.
Seven things I can't do:
1.Wipe a tear of someone lost a dear relative or friend.
2.Hate someone.
3.Slaughter a chicken.
4.Use a gun.
5.Like the terrorists.
6.Return back to smoking.
7.Spend a minute with someone I dislike.
Seven things I say most often:
1.How are things?
2.You look sad, aren't you?
3.'To Jadriya, please' to the taxi driver.
4.Bismillah [in the name of God] before having any meal.
5.How was your day? [to my parents when I go back home at night]
6.I am unhappy.
7.Alhamdulliah [Thank God] for everything.
Seven people I want to pass this tag to:
1. Gopal
2. Cooper
3. PebblePie
4. 24 Steps to Liberty
5. No Pain No Gain
6. IRAQ THE MODEL
7. I was about to put Fayrouz's name but it seems she was already assigned by Najma.
Seven things I plan to do:
1.Go to the United States.
2.Build my career.
3.Try to make my parents always happy.
4.Get the M.A. in writing abroad, probably in the United States.
5.Never lose a sincere friend.
6.Read the book of one of my best friends, Jackie.
7.Finish reading Anthony Shadid's book 'Night Draws Near'.
Seven things I can do:
1.Write a story.
2.Speak American English fluently.
3.Watch news regularly.
4.Spend time with my family and friends even if I am tired and exhausted.
5.Have as much friends as I can.
6.Show the one whom I don't like how I don't like him/her.
7.Watch news bulletin on three TV sets at once.
Seven things I can't do:
1.Wipe a tear of someone lost a dear relative or friend.
2.Hate someone.
3.Slaughter a chicken.
4.Use a gun.
5.Like the terrorists.
6.Return back to smoking.
7.Spend a minute with someone I dislike.
Seven things I say most often:
1.How are things?
2.You look sad, aren't you?
3.'To Jadriya, please' to the taxi driver.
4.Bismillah [in the name of God] before having any meal.
5.How was your day? [to my parents when I go back home at night]
6.I am unhappy.
7.Alhamdulliah [Thank God] for everything.
Seven people I want to pass this tag to:
1. Gopal
2. Cooper
3. PebblePie
4. 24 Steps to Liberty
5. No Pain No Gain
6. IRAQ THE MODEL
7. I was about to put Fayrouz's name but it seems she was already assigned by Najma.
Thursday, October 20, 2005
He's a hero… He's a villain…
These are the words I heard from the people whom I talked to when the trial of Iraq's former dictator was broadcasted on all of the Arab news channels live.
Before going out reporting, I was watching the TV footage of Saddam in Dujail in 1982. "One thing I want to ask Saddam if I see him face to face," I said to my bureau chief who was watching the news with me. "'why?' is the word, right?" she asked me. And of course, it was the right word to ask.
Before the start of the trial, I went to Adhamiya, a relatively Sunni neighborhood where the people are anti-America and pro-Saddam. Life was normal in the former Baathist ghetto despite the intensive deployment of the Iraqi army soldiers. A group of seven people were gathering at a barber shop in front of the revered shrine of Imam Abu Haneefa Numan [Imam Adham], a descendant of an historic family which bears the neighborhood’s name.
Adhamiya has a long history. This Sunni middle class neighborhood was a ghetto during Saddam Hussein’s reign. Families here have suffered from the regime’s ferocity, as everywhere in Iraq, but the majority of the population was composed of former army officers.
The neighborhood’s residents kept pious vigil at the obsequies of the foreign mujahadijn [holy fighters] who died April 10 and buried them in the mosque’s garden, renamed the “Martyr’s Cemetery”.
If someone goes to Adhamiya, he/she finds Graffiti blossoms on the walls. “Long live the mujahid [holy fighter] President Saddam!” ”Allah is great and Saddam is brave!” "By our blood, by our soul, we shall sacrifice ourselves for you, Saddam!” "The jihad is our way!” “Patience, Baghdad, patience, we shall force the occupier to leave!”
The owner of the barber shop and his customers were watching the TV waiting for the trial. Before it started, Al-Arabiya, a Dubai-based news channel, showed breaking news saying the head of the court is a Kurd.
"As if the Arabs are minority now and the Kurds are the majority in Iraq," a customer said.
Al-Arabiya was repeating footage of Saddam's visit to Dujail in 1982 before the assassination attempt. The TV anchor started describing a woman slaughtering a deer and stamped her hands stained in blood on one of Saddam's cars which she thought he was in.
"Saddam was so smart. He was in another car. He is really smart." A customer told another.
Another customer said that the charges against Saddam are untrue. "The army was fighting to protect his country and Saddam gave orders to restore control of the Iraqi areas which were about to be taken by force by foreigners from Iran," said one of them of the 1991 uprising in Iraq. "These were enemies that should be fought. The woman and children who were killed were wives and children of these enemies." he said. "When the resistance fought in Falluja, didn't the Americans destroy the whole the city? " he wondered.
Al-Arabiya also broadcasted live footage of people demonstrating in Tikrit, Saddam's hometown, carrying banners and posters of their ousted leader. "See. Do you see how the people still want Saddam and chant for him?" said the barber who was also busy cutting the hair of a customer.
When the trial started to be broadcasted, the customers gathered before the television, with faces pale and eyes concentrating.
"This is insulting," said a customer who put his hand on his forehead when Saddam appeared walking to his cage. "It's hard to see your president who ruled you for 35 years in this situation," he added. "Why do they keep him in the cage?" he wondered. "Is he going to fly?"
"huh! They are trying Saddam in the American Capital in Baghdad, the green zone."
When Saddam rejected to identify himself, the crowd clapped. "I swear he is a hero," said one of the crowd. "Look at his brave and strong look," he added.
Leaving Adhamiya, I went to Karrada, a relatively Shiite neighborhood in eastern Baghdad where people showered the American forces entering the capital with flowers. People in this neighborhood suffered a lot by the dictatorship of the former regime.
"Why are they trying him?" wondered Wisam Khalid, 26, shopping for Iftar, said. "He should be beheaded in front of all the people."
Khalid said his father was taken back to the army after he finished his duty. They took him by force and he died in the battle field in 1986.
"I couldn't see my father for along time. I was deprived from his fatherhood," Khalid said in grief. "When I was watching the trial at home, I remembered how I cried on my father when they brought his body from the front [means the battle field]. We were destroyed. My family was destroyed. This whole country was destroyed."
Also in Karrada, sitting on a canopy in front of his house, Haj Ahmed Jameel, 72, said he watched the trial on TV and he wasn't satisfied. "We don't need him to be tried. We need him to be executed without trial," Jameel said. "Did he make trials for the ones he executed when he was in power? He is a criminal, a killer, a slaughterer. He is a villain."
Before going out reporting, I was watching the TV footage of Saddam in Dujail in 1982. "One thing I want to ask Saddam if I see him face to face," I said to my bureau chief who was watching the news with me. "'why?' is the word, right?" she asked me. And of course, it was the right word to ask.
Before the start of the trial, I went to Adhamiya, a relatively Sunni neighborhood where the people are anti-America and pro-Saddam. Life was normal in the former Baathist ghetto despite the intensive deployment of the Iraqi army soldiers. A group of seven people were gathering at a barber shop in front of the revered shrine of Imam Abu Haneefa Numan [Imam Adham], a descendant of an historic family which bears the neighborhood’s name.
Adhamiya has a long history. This Sunni middle class neighborhood was a ghetto during Saddam Hussein’s reign. Families here have suffered from the regime’s ferocity, as everywhere in Iraq, but the majority of the population was composed of former army officers.
The neighborhood’s residents kept pious vigil at the obsequies of the foreign mujahadijn [holy fighters] who died April 10 and buried them in the mosque’s garden, renamed the “Martyr’s Cemetery”.
If someone goes to Adhamiya, he/she finds Graffiti blossoms on the walls. “Long live the mujahid [holy fighter] President Saddam!” ”Allah is great and Saddam is brave!” "By our blood, by our soul, we shall sacrifice ourselves for you, Saddam!” "The jihad is our way!” “Patience, Baghdad, patience, we shall force the occupier to leave!”
The owner of the barber shop and his customers were watching the TV waiting for the trial. Before it started, Al-Arabiya, a Dubai-based news channel, showed breaking news saying the head of the court is a Kurd.
"As if the Arabs are minority now and the Kurds are the majority in Iraq," a customer said.
Al-Arabiya was repeating footage of Saddam's visit to Dujail in 1982 before the assassination attempt. The TV anchor started describing a woman slaughtering a deer and stamped her hands stained in blood on one of Saddam's cars which she thought he was in.
"Saddam was so smart. He was in another car. He is really smart." A customer told another.
Another customer said that the charges against Saddam are untrue. "The army was fighting to protect his country and Saddam gave orders to restore control of the Iraqi areas which were about to be taken by force by foreigners from Iran," said one of them of the 1991 uprising in Iraq. "These were enemies that should be fought. The woman and children who were killed were wives and children of these enemies." he said. "When the resistance fought in Falluja, didn't the Americans destroy the whole the city? " he wondered.
Al-Arabiya also broadcasted live footage of people demonstrating in Tikrit, Saddam's hometown, carrying banners and posters of their ousted leader. "See. Do you see how the people still want Saddam and chant for him?" said the barber who was also busy cutting the hair of a customer.
When the trial started to be broadcasted, the customers gathered before the television, with faces pale and eyes concentrating.
"This is insulting," said a customer who put his hand on his forehead when Saddam appeared walking to his cage. "It's hard to see your president who ruled you for 35 years in this situation," he added. "Why do they keep him in the cage?" he wondered. "Is he going to fly?"
"huh! They are trying Saddam in the American Capital in Baghdad, the green zone."
When Saddam rejected to identify himself, the crowd clapped. "I swear he is a hero," said one of the crowd. "Look at his brave and strong look," he added.
Leaving Adhamiya, I went to Karrada, a relatively Shiite neighborhood in eastern Baghdad where people showered the American forces entering the capital with flowers. People in this neighborhood suffered a lot by the dictatorship of the former regime.
"Why are they trying him?" wondered Wisam Khalid, 26, shopping for Iftar, said. "He should be beheaded in front of all the people."
Khalid said his father was taken back to the army after he finished his duty. They took him by force and he died in the battle field in 1986.
"I couldn't see my father for along time. I was deprived from his fatherhood," Khalid said in grief. "When I was watching the trial at home, I remembered how I cried on my father when they brought his body from the front [means the battle field]. We were destroyed. My family was destroyed. This whole country was destroyed."
Also in Karrada, sitting on a canopy in front of his house, Haj Ahmed Jameel, 72, said he watched the trial on TV and he wasn't satisfied. "We don't need him to be tried. We need him to be executed without trial," Jameel said. "Did he make trials for the ones he executed when he was in power? He is a criminal, a killer, a slaughterer. He is a villain."
Monday, October 10, 2005
Alhoor Alain" [Companions with beautiful, big, and lustrous eyes]الحور العين
Don't be surprised. This is a description of the beautiful women waiting for residents of Heaven. On the first day of Ramadhan, mbc1, the Saudi TV channel broadcasted a TV show with this title.
Every episode is introduced by a sentence reads "To the souls of the victims of terrorism, this series is dedicated." Then a sad and slow music Plays in the background with two singers.
"Light a candle,don't use fire. Wipe a tear, don't victimize an innocent person," they sing
Mbc1 advertised the show before the holy month, which made people eager to watch.
"They killed my children, no God but Allah," wailed a woman near a place ablaze in explosion fire. Sarcastically, the director showed an episode of one of the so-called Mujahideen [holy warriors] saying, "This is a victory for the Mujahideen."
The story of the show is about a group of Arab families-from Lebanon, Syria, Jordan, Egypt, and Morocco- working in Saudi Arabia and all of them live in a housing complex in Riyadh. Part of the story talks about a Saudi young man who is working hard restlessly to find a job. This young man met with someone calling himself "a true believer". This wicked "believer" is trying to make the young man have a job. Huh, but what a job.
"The true believer" starts his wicked plans by talking about religion to the young man who attends the mosque to pray as other people, in that part of the world, do everyday in Ramadhan. He started by asking him where his brother is and what is he doing abroad. "He is among the infidels" he said of the young man's brother in the west. The "true believer" was trying to poison the young man's mind with things like these and trying to make him believe that when he becomes a Mujahid [a holy warrior], he will be among Alhoor Alain.
Eventually, the "true believer" makes the young man join a terrorist group, turning the housing compound into hell.
This is part of the story. The other part is that most of these families are torn apart. For example, the father of the Jordanian family uses his violence against his son who eventually escapes and probably joins the terrorist group.
This is the first kind of series TV shows to be broadcasted on an Arab channel. It shows the reality of how terrorism is destroying the lives of the innocent people.
Terrorism increased in the Arab countries to change the life of the people to worse. Terrorists are attacking resorts, hotels, governmental buildings and moved to killing the innocent people.
In Iraq, these terrorists, who unfortunately convinced themselves they will have Alhoor Alain in heaven, are turning Iraq into hell, a real hell. Explosions, killings, kidnappings, beheadings. They are the perpetrators.. The disaster is that they do that under the name of Islam. They even distorted the image of God.
Yesterday, I was discussing this with a friend of mine. "It could happen my mother and your mother," my friend, who blogs on 24 Steps to Liberty, said when the episode of the women wailing was on T.V. He was right.
Also, vice versa could happen. Last year a car bomb exploded in front of the school where my mother teaches. She was horrified. If she was near the main gate, she would have gone forever and that is what I don't want to imagine.
We'll meet with the updates on the show.
Tuesday, October 4, 2005
Ramadan Karim
Like every year, Ramadan comes with memories flash back into my mind. The holy month is the most wonderful time I spend with my family, friends and relatives every year. Remembering how my mother makes the "Iftar" after returning back from work makes me yearn and tear to those warm days. My sister cutting the onions, tomatoes, cucumbers, etc, my father bringing the hot fresh "Samoon", the Iraqi bread, and me preparing the daily orange juice, is how we help my mother in making the food ready on time."Allahu Akbar", is on TV announcing it's time to break our fasting. Of course, before everything, we thank God for His blessings and promising Him to fast the next day.
"Bismillah", [means In the Name of God], we utter before the first bite. Yogurt, water, dates, Kabab, rice, bread, olive, juice, salads, chicken, and the daily lintel soup decorate our table.
My father used to ask my sister and me about our school and as every year we tell him "We are doing great!" and we did.
"Alhamdollilah," we usually say after finishing Iftar. We go to the living room, pray and then watch our favorite series and TV shows. But when we had examinations, we had to study instead of watching TV!
Every Ramadhan, we have to invite relatives and friends for Iftar and vise versa. This great month makes all of us full of will and happiness to help others. Once, we had a next-door neighboring family who were not able to buy a piece of bread due to the difficult life many Iraqis went through during the sanctions. I remember my mother decided to cook for them the whole Ramadan.
Carrying the tray, once I went to tell them that we are going to share Iftar with them. "You are so kind and we will never forget this favor," the mother told me while she was wiping her tears from her sad eyes. "We are a family. We should share our food together," I said. Then we joined them and had one of the wonderful times in my life.
When I was in college, I used to go with my friends to have Iftar every Wednesday to a very well-known restaurant in Baghdad, Qasim Abu Al Gus. My favorite part in this was drinking the dark Iraqi tea after finishing eating.
Life was so normal, safe and happy at that time. Although there was an embargo but I remember that Ramadan time was different. People used to deploy in Baghdad after Iftar. Adhamiya, Karrada, Palestine Street, Mansour, Kadhimiya and other neighborhoods were thirsty to have the people irrigate them with love and warmth.
The happy days in Ramadan changed a little bit after I graduated from college. Of course, I have a job now where I spend twelve hours in it everyday. So, normally, I have Iftar in my office instead of my home.
In this office, I have another family whom I share Iftar with. "Time for Iftar," our friendly colleague F. announces every day. We all gather to share the great food our amazing cooks make. Eating, chatting and laughing, we spend our Iftar time and then go back to work. Being among my second family makes life for me a little bit normal in an abnormal time mycountry is going through.
I cannot say I am completely optimistic but I believe that one day, normal Ramadan will be back and we will have normal life, if not for us, maybe for the coming generations.
Ramadan Karim!
Sunday, October 2, 2005
Tears of the Sun
Yesterday, I visited my friends after I finished my work at the office. One of S., my friend, is a governmental employee. He was sent to Anbar Province heading a delegation taking relief to the refugees who left Qaem, a town at the borders with Syria, after the U.S. military operations started there to "get rid of the terrorists."
S, wasn't in the same mood as if he was another person. He was quiet and silent. Usually when we meet, he starts telling us his new jokes. He is a man with a very high sense of humor. This time he did not tell me a joke. He told me what happened with him when he entered the "fallen province".
- When we reached Falluja, the area was scary. No police, no army and no Americans at all. Just them [the armed men] driving their cars freely.
- What were they doing?
- Just driving carrying their weapons.
- What did you do then? You are a governmental employee which means you are a target for them.
- We did not stop until we reached Rawa. We stopped at restaurant to have some lunch. At that time, a man in an OPEL sedan drove near us going further and returning back at the same road.
- Was he looking at you? Did he suspect you?
- I didn't know at the beginning. I was scared and all of us were scared.
- How many employees were there with you?
- Just me and another employee and of course, the driver.
- So what happened then?
- I asked a man wearing a dishdasha what is the OPEL man doing here? He said 'don't worry he is checking the road for his men who are planting an IED on the road.' I was shocked. He said that as if it is something normal. I didn’t know whether to feel happy that I wasn't the target or feel sad as they are destroying the country by that.
"No American state, no Jafari state.. only Islamic state," read one of the banners at the entrance of Rawa which is absolutely run by the armed men, not by the Americans nor the Iraqi government now. "It was signed by Al-Qaeda in Iraq," S. told me. "There were many banners like this one, in addition to the statements that were posted on the walls and the mosques everywhere," he said.
Reaching Akashat, a small town near Qaem, S. and his colleagues thought they felt safe there until a man of the area asked them what they were doing there.
- I had to lie. I told him we were sent by another ministry official who is originally from Anbar province. I told him we are here to help the refugees who left Qaem. Then he took us to the refugee camp where hundreds of families were homeless. Suddenly, he asked me about my colleague.
- What did he say?
- He asked me if he is a Shiite.
- A Shiite? Why??
- He asked me is he a Shiite or a Sunni? I answered him, he is a Sunni.
- What is the difference?
- He said 'I want to you to be frank with me. If he is a Shiite, you should tell me in order to know what to do.' I immediately understood that he is one of the armed men who fight the Shiites and that was very obvious in his eyes which were full of hatred to them. My heart stopped for a minute. I insisted that he is a Sunni and that he is from a very well-known Sunni tribe to avoid the danger of being kidnapped or killed.
- That is ridiculous!
- I know. I believe now that we live in a civil war.
- Maybe it's not obvious in Baghdad but it is very clear in the other cities.
That was part of the conversation with my friend. Returning back to my house, I was thinking of our mysterious future. Are we going to be another Lebanon? Or have we already started to be like them during the civil war? I have friends from Mosul, Falluja, Samarra, Najaf and Kirkuk and even I have Christian friends. We've been friends for years and I don't remember one day we quarreled or fought each other because one of us is a Shiite and the other is a Sunni.
"Tears of the Sun" is the name of one of the most powerful movies I have ever watched. It is about the war in Nigeria and how the life of the people was changed when the new regime came to power. People were kidnapped and killed, women were raped, and children were slaughtered and so on. The same thing is happening now in Iraq. Maybe not exactly the same but it is happening and we don't know whether this will continue for along time or not.
S, wasn't in the same mood as if he was another person. He was quiet and silent. Usually when we meet, he starts telling us his new jokes. He is a man with a very high sense of humor. This time he did not tell me a joke. He told me what happened with him when he entered the "fallen province".
- When we reached Falluja, the area was scary. No police, no army and no Americans at all. Just them [the armed men] driving their cars freely.
- What were they doing?
- Just driving carrying their weapons.
- What did you do then? You are a governmental employee which means you are a target for them.
- We did not stop until we reached Rawa. We stopped at restaurant to have some lunch. At that time, a man in an OPEL sedan drove near us going further and returning back at the same road.
- Was he looking at you? Did he suspect you?
- I didn't know at the beginning. I was scared and all of us were scared.
- How many employees were there with you?
- Just me and another employee and of course, the driver.
- So what happened then?
- I asked a man wearing a dishdasha what is the OPEL man doing here? He said 'don't worry he is checking the road for his men who are planting an IED on the road.' I was shocked. He said that as if it is something normal. I didn’t know whether to feel happy that I wasn't the target or feel sad as they are destroying the country by that.
"No American state, no Jafari state.. only Islamic state," read one of the banners at the entrance of Rawa which is absolutely run by the armed men, not by the Americans nor the Iraqi government now. "It was signed by Al-Qaeda in Iraq," S. told me. "There were many banners like this one, in addition to the statements that were posted on the walls and the mosques everywhere," he said.
Reaching Akashat, a small town near Qaem, S. and his colleagues thought they felt safe there until a man of the area asked them what they were doing there.
- I had to lie. I told him we were sent by another ministry official who is originally from Anbar province. I told him we are here to help the refugees who left Qaem. Then he took us to the refugee camp where hundreds of families were homeless. Suddenly, he asked me about my colleague.
- What did he say?
- He asked me if he is a Shiite.
- A Shiite? Why??
- He asked me is he a Shiite or a Sunni? I answered him, he is a Sunni.
- What is the difference?
- He said 'I want to you to be frank with me. If he is a Shiite, you should tell me in order to know what to do.' I immediately understood that he is one of the armed men who fight the Shiites and that was very obvious in his eyes which were full of hatred to them. My heart stopped for a minute. I insisted that he is a Sunni and that he is from a very well-known Sunni tribe to avoid the danger of being kidnapped or killed.
- That is ridiculous!
- I know. I believe now that we live in a civil war.
- Maybe it's not obvious in Baghdad but it is very clear in the other cities.
That was part of the conversation with my friend. Returning back to my house, I was thinking of our mysterious future. Are we going to be another Lebanon? Or have we already started to be like them during the civil war? I have friends from Mosul, Falluja, Samarra, Najaf and Kirkuk and even I have Christian friends. We've been friends for years and I don't remember one day we quarreled or fought each other because one of us is a Shiite and the other is a Sunni.
"Tears of the Sun" is the name of one of the most powerful movies I have ever watched. It is about the war in Nigeria and how the life of the people was changed when the new regime came to power. People were kidnapped and killed, women were raped, and children were slaughtered and so on. The same thing is happening now in Iraq. Maybe not exactly the same but it is happening and we don't know whether this will continue for along time or not.
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