My trip to the U.S.A
Amman, first step. Treasure of Baghdad’s diary

On Saturday, Z and I spent most of the time in the internet café checking emails and reading blogs and news on media websites. In the afternoon, S and M came to pick us for lunch. At night, we went to a café in the upscale neighborhood of Shmaisani, my favorite place in Amman. Z, M, and I smoked hookah and drank tea while S preferred to have Kapachino.

The first time I went to Shmaisani was in last June when I had my first 7-day vacation. Restaurants, cafes and commercial stores are lined along the street where dozens of people, mostly from Arab Gulf countries and Iraq, spend a lot of money on their amusement while the Jordanians prefer to visit it maybe once a week due to their limited income.

The street where the cafes are lined up reminds me with a similar street in Baghdad. Abu Nuas Street where restaurants and cafes were decorating the Tigris River. This street is now neglected and parts of it are considered now as Red Zones due to the security measures surrounding the Sheraton and Palestine Hotels. Most of the restaurants and cafes are closed now; car bombs often take place there due to the continuous presence of the US forces and the Iraqi police guarding the two hotels.

Back to Shmaisani. At midnight, we had dinner in Lebanon Snack restaurant and returned back at 2 a.m. Z and I couldn’t sleep; we remembered the old days in Baghdad. Z is a very sensitive man. He yearns to Baghdad a lot. He hasn’t been there for along time. His father is working in Dubai and he studies in Amman. We remembered how the war affected our lives and how we spent the best time in our lives in wars and sanctions that stole the smile from our faces.

On Sunday, I woke up at 7 o’clock to get ready to go to the US embassy to get my visa stamped. I went there, gave them the passport, and was told to come the next day at 3 p.m. to receive it stamped. I was very excited. Then, I went to an internet café to check emails and news. At 11:30, I visited my aunt’s family. My aunt’s family is very wealthy and they used to live in Baghdad. They were robbed in 2003, right after the US-led invasion. At that time, law and order collapsed in Iraq where no police or army were seen anymore in the streets. The amount of their robbed money was estimated of 300,000,000 ID, including a Mercedes and all my aunt’s jewels. The worst part, their robbers were about to kidnap the children but they decided to be satisfied with amount of money and jewelry they got. So, they decided to leave the country believing that “there is no place for them in Baghdad anymore”. As most of the families, they moved to live and work in Jordan, Amman as a first step. The children are studying in Jordanian schools now.

My aunt and her family insisted that I stay and have lunch with them. They were very happy to hear I am going to visit the United States. “Bright future is waiting for you,” my aunt told me. My aunt’s husband gave some advises as he has been there several times for trade being a businessman.

After lunch, I returned back to S’s house, changed my clothes and left to Mecca Mall. I was thirsty for coffee. Z and I had our usual Starbucks while S and his girlfriend preferred watching a comic Arabic movie. After that we returned back to the house, had dinner and went to sleep.

This moring, I woke up late. The house was empty as S, M, and Z went to their college. I made some dark Iraqi tea for me and then turned on the TV to watch Saddam’s trial. The trial of Saddam Hussein for crimes against humanity resumed today in a heavily guarded courtroom inside the green zone.

Dressed in black trousers and a gray jacket, Saddam was the last of the defendants to enter the courtroom. The former dictator appeared confident. He was carrying a copy of the holy Quran as if he wants to tell the people how religious and good beliver he is. Huh!
The Associated Press reported that Saddam had a brief but heated exchange with Amin, the chief judge complaining of having to walk up four flights of stairs in shackles because the elevator wasn't working.

The judge said he would tell the police not to let that happen again. Saddam snapped: "You are the chief judge. I don't want you to tell them. I want you to order them. They are in our country. You have the sovereignty.”

Saddam also complained he was escorted up the stairs by "foreign guards" and that some of his papers had been taken.

"How can a defendant defend himself if his pen was taken. Saddam Hussein's pen and papers were taken. I don't mean a white paper. There are papers downstairs that include my remarks in which I express my opinion," he said.

This man doesn’t stop complaining. He thinks himself he is still the man in power and the one who executes without hesitation. For God’s sake! You are in the prsion, man!!
What made me laugh out loud was that former U.S. Attorney General Ramsey Clark and former Qatari Justice Minister Najib Nuaimi sat with the defense team inside the courtroom, along with Saddam's chief lawyer, Khalil Dulaimi.

It’s funny to see famous people like these two defend Saddam who is known to the whole world that he was the dictator of the century.

Clark and Nuaimi flew to Baghdad on Sunday from Amman, Jordan, to advise Saddam's lawyers and support their call to have the trial moved out of Iraq.

Why don’t they just leave the Iraqis try the one who tortured them and turned their country into hell?

After the trial was over, I dressed up to get ready to go the US embassy to get my US visa stamped on the passport. Finally, I got it. I am so excited and happy now. The only thing I am waiting for is the tickets which I will get from a colegue of us working here in Amman. America… wait for me. I am coming!!

My trip to the U.S.A

Amman, first step. Treasure of Baghdad’s diary

Although I know I will return back to Baghdad, I left my beloved city with tears in my eyes expecting more and more violence to happen. Farewelling every building, tree and stone in Baghdad, I was singing Kadhum al Sahir’s song, “Escaping”. A tear dropped from my eyes when I reached “I am escaping from a great house which every eye wishes to see. Under its shadows, you and I were like birds. We used to share the laughter and the tear.” Of course, the house is my beloved homeland, Iraq.

I arrived the airport sad and excited at the same time. “The good things in America are waiting for me.” I said to myself to cheer up. My friend J, Harvard, New York and DC are waiting for me.

I was travelling with a friend of mine, S., who studies in Amman. We arrived Amman at 5 p.m., Amman local time. I did not expect that it’ll take me two hours just to stamp the passport. At Alyia International Airport, Iraqis were treated differently. They were asked to stand behind. Every single Iraqi was taken to a room where airport officials were sitting and were asked many questions untill we were allowed to leave. This came after the terrorist attacks hit Amman few weeks ago.

My friends whom I haven’t seen for almost two months were waitnig for me. I saw the happiness in their eyes, specially in Z’s eyes who was very happy to see me.

We all retuned back to the house and had dinner after a long day in airports. At night, I went to an internet café close to S’s house to check emails. After checking emails and reading Iraq’s news, I read the comments on my blog and on 24 steps to liberty’s. I was shocked to see how I am being misundirstood by some of the commenters. In fact, I started feeling I am being attcked. Once I critised some of the bloggers, including Riverbend, for closing the comment sections. Now, I don’t and I feel as she/he feels.

I was really upset and was about to close the comment section until I decided not to do that beleiving that I live in a “free” country and I have to be open-minded to read these comments. Anyway, I retunred back to the house sad but convinced myself that I should be strong and accept criticism.


The next day, Thursday, I went to the US embassy and found no one there. Of course, it was the Thanksgiving !! my excitment made me forgot that. Then I returned back to see my friends waiting for me to have breakfast in an Iraqi restaurant. We went there, had breakfast and then returned back home to have some rest. At, 6 pm., we went to Mecca Mall. Z and I had Starbucks coffee and then we all went to a movie theater where we really had fun. At night, we went to a restaurant, had dinner and returned back home late.

On Friday, nothing was changed. We went to the same Iraqi restaurant for lunch where Z and I had Mazgoof, a large fat fish usually is taken from the Tigris. Iraqis consider a national delicacy. S and M had Yabsa, beans. At night, we went to Mecca Mall again and as usual, had coffee and went to the movie theater to watch a movie.

Shame !!!! Treasure of Baghdad's Diary

On Al-Arabiya, the news bulletin came out at 10 p.m. while I was having dinner last night. “High tension has marked the first day of a meeting of Iraq's political and religious leaders to discuss plans for a future reconciliation conference,” the anchor said. In a speech at the conference, Hareth Aldhari, head of the Muslim Scholars Association showed up and said, "Armed resistance arose as a reaction to occupation. It is legitimate and is not an innovation.”

I chocked. Drinking water, I said to myself what the hell he is talking about? Which resistance is he mentioning, the one that collapsed an apartment building over its residents few days ago? The one he did not even feel sad or condemn. Oh! Of course not, he considers it resistance, I forgot.

Hundreds are being killed in one day and he calls this “resistance”. I just want to meet him and tell him, “SHAME ON YOU”. This man doesn’t deserve to be Iraqi or even a Muslim. I am fed up with these people. When will they wake up to make this country safe and stable? They are disgrace and in the history of this wounded nation.

One day I was at his headquarters to interview one of their spokesman. I was waiting in his secretary’s office because the spokesman was having a TV interview. When I was waiting, a Jordanian man entered the room shaking and begging. “My brother, my brother is kidnapped by the Mujahideen [holy warriors].” I was concentrating to see what would happen. Then the secretary asked him about the name of his brother and when he was kidnapped. “He is a truck driver and was kidnapped in Ramadi few days ago.” I was shocked when I saw this secretary opening a notebook full of names and including the name of the Jordanian in it. “Don’t worry. He would be released within one day.”

Oh my God! What does this mean? They know everyone was kidnapped by the so-called Mujahideen in the last year when these started a scary campaign against westerners by kidnapping and beheading them afterwards. When this campaign started and the Muslim Scholars Association was seen contacting the “Mujahideen” to free them, people started calling this association as “Association of Kidnapping Scholars” and some called them as “Association of Criminal Scholars”. I think this is the very first time an Iraqi blogger says that. I felt I have to say it because I am fed up. I can’t see these people supporting the criminals under the name of resistance and keep shutting my mouth. This is a crime; it’s not less than what the Shiite Badr Brigade is doing. Both of them are working secretly and the victims are the innocent Iraqi people who fell powerless in their hands.

All today’s newspapers mentioned the disagreement between Aldhari and Jafari that was revealed in their speeches in the Cairo conference. However, they claimed that the participants said they would return “hand in hand”, a mark of agreement. I don’t believe that. These people won’t agree. They agreed not to agree as we say in Arabic.

The papers also quoted Jafari saying "We have set a red line; there is no room for Baathists in Iraq.” Come on Dr. Jafari. Let’s not deceive ourselves. There are many Baathists in the government institutions. The disaster is the criminal Baathists are back and those minor Baathists who were forced to join the party are not allowed to return to their jobs.

I don’t know why these people are trying to cover their failure by saying these things. In my own prospective, not all the Baathists were criminals, some of them were forced to join this party to live and have jobs. I know newly graduate students who were forced to join the Baath because they wanted to have the M.A. degree. One of the conditions to be an M.A. scholar was you should be a member of this damned party. So are those not allowed to cross the “red line”? oh no, of course, not. I forgot they are Baathists. SHAME ON YOU too, Jafari.

Farewell Peace!! Treasure of Baghdad’s Diary

In a normal country, when someone receives a phone call on his cell phone, he hears phrases like, “good morning, how are you? How is it going?” But in Iraq, it’s getting different specially these days. This morning, while I was heading to the office for work, I received a phone call from a colleague of mine, R. “Be careful when you arrive to the office. We were attacked,” he said. I panicked in the car. “What?!! What happened?!! Anyone is killed?! Oh my God!” I asked him. He was shaking and couldn’t complete. I called my friend O. to tell him the news. I called him. He called back to tell me he is going to the house of N, our other friend and colleague. O1, O2, N, M, and I went together to the office. When we arrived, the only words we said and were told were “Hamdulilah AlSalama” [Thanks Be to God for your safety].

O. and I entered the office. It was in a bad shape; windows were broken, the floor was furnished with newspapers and books, including Quran and Shadid’s Night Draws Near, our Bible. Our memories, which we keep on shelves in the office, like pictures, souvenirs, and O’s favorite souvenir from NY City, a small statue of liberty, were all buried under dust and mud from plants we keep in the office. Plants to remind us of life, mourned our memories today. No room was spared this “House Swap.” Walking out to the scene, O. and I were almost expecting what to see in front of us. “Look, look… a foot,” B. told me. Although I was carrying my camera with me, I couldn’t shoot a photo for it. “Oh my Lord!” I said within myself. The scene was scary. I found out that two suicide car bombs targeted Hamra hotel but failed to demolish the hotel and destroyed an apartment block instead, killing at least six people, including two children and wounding more than 40. Wailing women in black veils slapped their heads as they watched the destruction, a man embraced a weeping woman and other wounded people full of blood were crossing the huge craters the explosions caused. I had to jump on an armored car, destroyed in the blast, to be close enough to see the rescuers, firemen, police, and army.

The blasts knocked down protective concrete walls and blew out windows. Several nearby homes were destroyed, and firemen and U.S. troops joined neighbors and Iraqi security forces to dig through the debris to pull out victims.

I stood in front of the collapsed apartment block and imagined myself there. It’s Friday for God’s sake. People were sleeping in peace after a week full of suffering and tragedy. Didn’t these people deserve to spend at least few hours of rest?

When I saw the apartment collapsed, I immediately remembered Alhoor Alain which I mentioned in previous posts.

I was about to stop blogging for good. I told O. that there is no benefit from writing. No one is listening and no one is trying to help. This country is being destroyed and no one is doing anything. O. told me I was wrong because there are many people who don’t know what is going on in the country.

As usual, we returned back to the office to continue working and our usual day. “What happened to us?” O. wondered while he was wiping the dust off his desk. “We became emotionless. We work, eat, smile in such a day. We lost our feelings and emotions. We became senseless,” he said to me. I smiled and said, “We get used to it,” and continued staring at my laptop.

At that time, our bureau chief said, “look, look at the CNN.” A security camera footage showed a white van driving up to blast walls at the exterior perimeter of the hotel complex and exploding. About 20 seconds later the second explosion blew out the camera.

Just few hours later, another huge disaster happened but not in Baghdad. It was in Khanaqin instead. Two suicide bombers strapped with explosives killed at least 74 people and wounded 75 when they blew themselves up inside crowded Shiite mosques at prayer time in this northeastern Iraqi town.

The attacks in Khanaqin, a mixed Shiite and Kurdish town near the border with Iran, seemed to fuel sectarian tensions ahead of a Dec. 15 election. But the question is will these attacks create a civil war?! What if it happens? I don’t know, I just don’t know… What I can say for now is Farewell Peace. We’ll miss you.

A Huge explosion

A huge explosion took place near our office. The office is in a bad shape but none of our staff was hurt. Till now, six people were killed and more than 40 wounded. Details will be provided to you in the coming post.

Nightmares … Treasure of Baghdad’s Diary

For almost a week, I’ve been having horrible nightmares. I don’t sleep well due to the situation that is getting worse day after day. Yesterday, my day off, I woke up at 8 a.m. as I couldn’t sleep longer. I didn’t have breakfast, because I wasn’t in a good mood. I just had my daily mug of black Iraqi tea. My mother insisted that I have breakfast because by that I am hurting my health and myself. I realized I am making my family worried and there is no need to increase their pain. I had to pretend I am fine. I decided to have breakfast with her and my father. Our discussion was like any discussion inside an Iraqi family everyday, the current situation in the country. The main subject was the terrorist Iraqi woman who tried to blow up herself in the Amman hotel attacks.

After that, I went to my room, of course, to check emails and news. Nothing interesting or new I found. So I preferred to read some articles and blog entries. The most interesting entry I am enjoying now is 24 Step to Liberty’s journal visit to the United States. I find it interesting because it has to do with my forthcoming trip. I am trying to see how people behaved with him, being an Arab and Iraqi visiting a country hurt by extreme Arab terrorism in Sept. 2001. This is one of the things that preoccupied me. I am thinking over and over, what will these people think of this coming strange Arab man, what will they think when they see me in the streets? What would they say about me? “A terrorist?” or “A Muslim?”, or “just a normal Arab?”…

Now, Iraqis are being bothered wherever they go just because they are Iraqis. I don’t know what happened to us? In the past, specifically in the seventies, Iraqis were the most respected Arab people, my father always says to me. He visited many western countries, including England where he finished his education. Iraqis were the most educated of the Arabs. They were always debating like politicians in many subjects and were always convincing. Most of the students in University of Leeds, where my father studied, liked the Iraqi students who were always on the top along with their British colleagues.

Remembering what my father said and what is happening at the mean time made me understand that this no longer exists. For more than 30 years, the Baath Party governors in Iraq distorted this reputation. Instead of sending Iraqi students to share knowledge with international students, the criminal tyrants sent them to battles in a long war against Iran, Kuwait, and finally America and Britain.

Definitely, I am so lucky to get this chance to go abroad and it wouldn’t have been done without my friend J who did her best to make me take part in a journalism fellowship and see the editors of the paper I am working with. Sometimes I feel guilty; I see my friends who are government employees and how their aim to study abroad is very difficult due to the absence of the chances that may take them there and the bad material status. A., my friend, has been contacting dozens of organizations and universities in Europe to have a scholarship in a college specialized in agriculture, the degree he had in Baghdad University, but in vain. He is getting nothing.

After 7 p.m., I went out to see my friends whom I haven’t seen for almost a week being busy most of the time. They were very happy to see me. As usual, we gathered in A’s house where we had our two apples-flavored Hookah. This time, their discussion was about how they can save money at the time their salaries are terrible. I couldn’t intervene. My situation is different. Because I work with a western media, I am paid well. They are government employees whose salary doesn’t exceed $100, enough only for transportation and buying clothes. I also felt I am lucky and sad at the same time. As young men, we should have the best time in our lives. But the opposite is happening here. We are spending the best time in our lives in wars, battles, violence, killings, assassinations, and depression which made us think over and over and eventually will get tired of this because there is no solution, and even if there is a solution, it would take a very long time.

As usual, this morning, I woke up having a new nightmare… It was me walking in a dark street returning to my house which was dark and my 2-months old niece was crying out of this darkness. I woke up shaking. I endure anything in my life except except seeing my niece crying out of fear. I thanked God it wasn’t real. I took a shower, had breakfast and left to work to begin a new Baghdadi day, a day full of adventures and stories.

She is gone.. She left.. She'll never come back again - Treasure of Baghdad's Diary

Last Friday wasn’t a normal day for me. It was the last Friday night I spent with one of the closest friends in my entire life. As every Friday night, she made the dinner. It was delicious as usual.

In Iraq, we always say if the person cooking is kind-hearted, his/her food is always delicious. And that was typically her. She has the kindest heart I have ever felt.

Being an Iraqi man, I am a terrible cook. All I know is how to boil an egg and warm some Samoon [Iraqi bread]. So what I really did last night was drinking beer and watching her and O cooking. Our other colleague J2, prepared Margarita for us. He gave me a glass with salt on the edge. I was like “No way! It’s salty.” Then he had to remove the salt and made me try for the first time. It was very good, but as a beer drinker, I preferred to have beer at dinner.

As every Friday night, I read the poem:

“We don’t know where this journey ends
In the lush green meadow,
Or in the deserted quay of some perched river
Where skeletal remains of animals lie mixed
With the remnants of human bodies and burnt charcoal”

That was the second time I read this poem. The first time was on August 13, 2004 where we had Friday dinner at our 107 room at the Baghdad Sheraton.

After we had the dinner, we sat chatting, listening to music. M, left to home, J went outside to smoke Hookah and O, J, and I kept silent listening to Asala, a Syrian singer, until J2 came and said the main desk him called him and told him that, Izat Doori, the second important man in Saddam’s government is dead. We went back to the office to see what happened.

Yesterday, I went out to Sinaa Street, the center of technology in Baghdad where dozens of stores sell the most developed technical sets like computers and everything related to them.

Few days ago I decided to by this laptop. For the last few years, I was using a desktop computer at home and at the office but this time I changed my mind. Within a couple of weeks, I’ll go to a western country where I will definitely need it. Anyway, I bought an IBM laptop like the one my friend O has. It is very good, O always says.

On the way back, O called and said I have to get the reaction of the people of Kofi Anan’s visit to Baghdad. I went to Karrada neighborhood and talked to several people about his visit. I thanked God, he did not go out and saw the people as they would cut him into pieces. He is a “villain” in their opinion.

Q.A., 35, owns a diary shop in Karrada, said, “This is a routine visit and a play to show the people that he cares about Iraq and Iraqis. The country does not need him in the meantime. He wasn’t useful and he won’t be useful anymore. Anan was unable to prevent the war in Iraq from happening, so what do you think he is going to do?

He is a spy. He came her to spy on Iraqis. He is the favorite puppet in the hands of the Americans. The Americans told him to visit Jordan and visit Iraq.”

Last night, Abu H. and his assistant N made the dinner. It was a great dinner; Mazgoof, my favorite Iraqi dish, grilled chicken, lamp chaps, and some other food. I had my favorite Corona Beer with dinner, while the others preferred drinking red wine.

We spent most of the time at dinner talking about my trip. I am going to talk about the details of this trip in my forthcoming diary.

J was leaving Sunday morning to Amman and then back to her home, the United States. It wasn’t the first time J comes to Iraq. She’d been in Baghdad for almost 9 months [June 2004-February 2005]. Our friendship started since then. My first reporting and byline was with her in June 2004 when we covered the release of hundreds of detainees at Abu Ghraib prison.

I can’t describe her here because whatever I say would very little to her favor and love to Iraq and Iraqis. Read more about her here.

She always felt safe when she was among us and she was always happy when she sees us all together smiling and living normally in a country torn by violence.

On her own website, J wrote how she felt when we finished having an interview with a senior Iraqi official… “We did our interview and then when we went to leave, we had to cross a four-lane highway to get to our drivers. B. reached for my hand and walked me across. This was not a romantic gesture. This was a gesture of a brother who wanted to protect his best friend--before, I might add, taking the risk to himself and to his family to bring me to visit his niece, sister, mother and father in a dangerous neighborhood of Iraq a few hours later. (If I try to describe it, I will cry. It meant more to me than you can imagine--this simple act that most people in the world take for granted--visiting the family of a dear friend.) As I felt the warmth of his hand, I felt so safe. I didn't look. I followed. I realized that is what I have been doing for the entire time I have been in Iraq. I have simply given myself up to my Iraqi friends, following them by the hand. It is their country, their story. I can only walk behind them and pick up their tears, sadly.”


She said exactly what I felt at the moment. She is my sister whom I really care about. I did that with my real sister, A., and there is no difference in my feeling towards both of them.

She, O, and I went upstairs in her room and chatted for hours listening to Iraqi and American music. We talked about many things and experiences in life, including my experience being drunk for the first time in my life.

J flew this morning to Amman. Although she left sad but she is happy she left smile, hope, and ambition in the heart of every single person of the staff. They love her, they just love her for her kindness and simple and kind heart. They always feel if something happens to her, they would be so hurt. W, Um M, Um H, N, Abu H, the guards, the bodyguards, the office, and the drivers, all of them love her to the extent they consider her as their symbol of hope which is almost missing in this country. She used to wake up smiling in our faces and leaves to bed with the same vital smile. Everyone now feels so sad she is gone for good. But as they say, she is always present although she is far away.

Iraqi Woman !!!

I was chatting with a friend of mine about how my mother is worried that I may fall in love to an American woman in the U.S. She sent me this link and I found it really really interesting… take a look at at.

http://www.aliraqi.org/forums/showthread.php?t=45912

Another Miserable Day in Baghdad... Treasure of Bgahdad's Diary

All rights are reserved... Photos are taken by the author

For the last few days, I wasn't sleeping well for many reasons. Last night, I had horrible nightmares in which I was so glad to wake up early. Going to the office, I didn't have any problems or obstacles in the road. Yesterday wasn't the good day for the terrorists in Iraq. They were celebrating in the neighboring Jordan.

Last night, I went back home late after I spent hours in the office trying to fix my comments section in the blog in vain until, Mad Canuck, offered to fix it for me and he did. I am really thankful and grateful to him for fixing it.

At 10:30 p.m., the most dangerous time in Baghdad, I entered the house to find my parents freaked out. Of course, I couldn't call them neither they did because the cell phone network was down since noon. A breaking news on Arabiya TV channel drew my attention. "At least 5 killed in an explosion in a hotel in Amman," the news bar read. I was shocked. "What? Amman?!!!" I was really shocked. I didn’t expect that because Amman is supposed to be the safest capital in the Middle East.
I took a shower, had dinner, and followed up the news. By 11 p.m., the news reported three explosions targeted three hotels in Amman killing at least 30 people and wounded hundreds. I tried a lot to call my aunt who lives there but in vain, the network remained down till the next day.

This morning, I felt something would happen. And of course, my sense of feeling wasn't wrong. An explosion inside a restaurant in Baghdad killed 35 people and wounded 25.

The office assigned me for covering the attack. Sitting in the front seat of the car, I was silent imaging what I am going to see. I always have this feeling before covering any violence. I imagine the situation in order to know how to move and how to be cautious in case another bomber comes and blow up himself among the crowd who will definitely gather at the scene. This time I felt differently. A strange feeling came to me. "Oh Oh!," once, this feeling made me hear my aunt's death news. "What's wrong with me today? Stop it, nothing would happen," I said to myself.

I arrived an hour after the explosion took place. Ambulance rescuers, police and army were all evacuating and carrying the dead and wounded to the hospitals.

The explosion occurred at about 9:30 a.m. at the Qadouri Restaurant, a popular Baghdad restaurant famous for its local cuisine, particularly Baghdadi breakfasts. The restaurant was always busy with Iraqi workers, police and other security forces.

As usual, it was very hard to get there because army and police cordoned the area fearing another attack on the same place which is always likely to happen. Anyway, I was the first to reach the place. I left the huge gathering of reporters, hid my notebook and camera, and walked with my driver who was clever enough to talk to the police to let me in. other reporters were furious and jealous enough to see me there.

I talked to witnesses, police, and army and shot some photos to the victims being carried on stretchers. "horrible, horrible, horrible," I kept saying to myself. For God's sake, what the hell is happening in this world? It was a restaurant, just a restaurant.

An hour and a half after the explosion passed and the ambulances were carrying the dead bodies.

Neighbors of the restaurant said it had been threatened several times because it was so popular with policemen and army soldiers, who particularly liked the breakfasts it served.

This restaurant is located along the banks of the Tigris River, about 500 yards north of the Sheraton and Palestine hotel complex and across the river from the heavily fortified Green Zone that houses the Iraqi government and the headquarters of the U.S. occupation forces.

After I finished reporting, I retuned back to the car which we parked in another street. On the way to it, people who couldn't go to see the restaurant burning asked us how it looked like. I said nothing. I just showed them the photos I shot.

In every incident like today's, I am always strong at the scene. I never let my emotions make me fail in my job. But the moment I ride in the car, I return to B., the human being with all his emotions and feelings. It was the first time for me today to let my tears fall. They were burning my cheeks. I imagined my father, cousin, or friend in the restaurant

At 1 p.m., I arrived to the office and wrote my report. A colleague of mine combined the stuff he had and sent the news to the official website of the newspaper.

After a long day, I just cannot forget the sight of the woman who was crying after she saw what happened and the sight of the boy whose father died in the blast. He was calling and calling him, but he wasn't there. He was in the hands of his creator along with 34 others killed at the same time…

Enemies !! Treasure of Baghdad's Diary

My days in Iraq are always busy. However, yesterday was very quiet and normal. Nothing serious happened to make me very busy. I seized the opportunity to spend the whole time surfing the net. I flipped through blogs and websites, and chatted with some friends about politics and other issues. G., my friend, told me Baghdad Burning has posted a new post. I was very interested to hurry up and read it as she hadn't posted anything since the referendum. I was shocked when I read her entry. She posted something about the POWs [Prisoners of War] in the 8-year Iraq-Iran war. She was accurate in every single word she described about how Iraqis suffered in that period.

Accusing Abdul Aziz Hakim and his late brother and what they did in "torturing the Iraqi POWs", she moved to talk about her fears of a possible domination of the Kurds and Shiites to power in Iraq. Unfortunately, she didn't leave a space for people to comment. Instead, she preferred people email her. I took parts of her entry and commented on them in the email I sent her. Following are the parts I chose and the comments I left on them. I am sure some people would think by that email, I am supporting the Shiites. I want everybody knows that I am not supporting anyone. I am an objective and secular person whose main job is to convey the truth to the whole world.

Hi Riverbend,

I read ur last post and wished there was a place to leave comments in. there are few things I'd like to share discussing with, if u don't mind.

- "It showed what I later learned was an Iraqi POW in Iran. I watched as Iranian guards tied each arm of the helpless man to a different vehicle. I was young, but even I knew what was going to happen the next moment. I wanted to run away or close my eyes- but I couldn't move. I was rooted to the spot, almost as if I too had been chained there. A moment later, the cars began driving off in opposite directions- and the man was in agony as his arm was torn off at the socket. "

I felt the same thing exactly when I watched it back in the eighties. It was one of the most horrible things I've seen yet. I felt very sad when the government removed the statue in the Palestine St. that represented this crime.


- " Every Iraqi who had a missing relative from that war, saw them in the agonized face of that POW who lost his arm. SCIRI head Abdul Aziz Al Hakim and his dead brother Mohammed Baqir Al Hakim were both well-known interrogators and torturers of Iraqi POWs in Iran."

First of all, I am a secular Iraqi but one thing, do you have any evidence that Abdul Aziz Hakim and his militia did interrogate the POWs?
Maybe I am speaking like this because I am a reporter which has to be neutral and depends on facts. You are talking about this as a fact without explaining where did u get this fact from? When ? to make the reader convinced of it.


- "The referendum results were so disappointing and there have been so many stories of fraud and shady dealings (especially in Mosul), that there's already talk of boycotting the December elections. This was the Puppets' shining chance to show that there is that modicum of democracy they claim the Iraqi people are enjoying under occupation- that chance was terribly botched up. "

As a reporter, I've talked to many people, including Sunnis in Adhamiya, Mosul, and Anbar who said that they were very happy that the constitution has passed. The reason as they said is that they are fed up. They want peace back, they want stability they are deprived from for two years.

- "Americans constantly tell me, "What do you think will happen if we pull out of Iraq- those same radicals you fear will take over." The reality is that most Iraqis don't like fundamentalists and only want stability- most Iraqis wouldn't stand for an Iran-influenced Iraq."

Ok, what about the Wahabi and Salafi radicals who are causing much pain in Iraq by considering every single policeman, soldier, or government employee as an infidel??!! Isn't there a small space at least for them to mention?! I am not saying the Shiite radicals are innocent but I am saying what about the Sunni Wahabis and Salafis?

- "Iraq has been the land of dreams for everyone except Iraqis- the Persian dream of a Shia controlled Islamic state modeled upon Iran and inclusive of the holy shrines in Najaf, the pan-Arab nationalist dream of a united Arab region with Iraq acting as its protective eastern border, the American dream of controlling the region by installing permanent bases and a Puppet government in one of its wealthiest countries, the Kurdish dream of an independent Kurdish state financed by the oil wealth in Kirkuk… "

Also here, you haven't mention the dream of the radical Salafis whose dream is to turn Iraq into another Afghanistan.

Riverbend,
I totally understand what you are going through now because it's the same feeling of most of the Iraqis, but that doesn't mean to be biased. In this post, you are against Iran, Shiites, and Kurds only. You totally forget to mention that Iraq has enemies who are turning the country into a hell.

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I had to be indulged in a long discussion with my friend about this post and how River bend considered Kurds and Shiites, who are Iraqis, as enemies while she totally forgot to mention that there are foreign fighters come from Saudi Arabia, Jordan, Syria, Egypt, Lebanon, Kuwait, Sudan and some other countries to do operations against all Iraqis under the name of "Jihad".

By that time, my friends and colleagues J, O, and N were in the office. We all talked about different subjects, including movies and DVDs. J told us she watched a "great" movie and she wanted us to watch it as well. She gave it to O and today N will watch it. "Do you have a comedy DVD?" I asked J. "I need to laugh and smile," I said.
Jumping from her chair, she said, "I know what to bring for you." The Simpsons Collection was one of the DVDs she brought. I liked the idea of watching a funny cartoon. When I returned back home, I had a shower, had dinner and then watched the Simpsons with my favorite Iraqi tea in my hand. That was the first time I ever watched a cartoon at night. I even haven't watched cartoons since I graduated from school 2 1/5 years ago.

Assassinations Are Back In My Neighborhood… Treasure of Baghdad's Diary

Assassinations stopped in my neighborhood since five months ago. Translators, government employees, policemen, Iraqi army soldiers, and any one working for the Americans were killed since the U.S.-led invasion to the country. Yasir, a neighbor of mine, was assassinated last year just because he worked with an American company responsible for reconstruction in Iraq, Mohammed was killed by a bomb put under his car, Ali the policeman was shot dead in the neighborhood six months ago and some other people whom I didn't know were also killed either by bombs or shootings.

This phenomenon erupted again. Last night, I was sitting with my friends A. and S., they told me that three people were killed during Eid. One of those was a minibus driver and he was killed because he worked in a polling center during the referendum. I felt so bad for him. I've seen him several times with his two little daughters. Omar, the victim, was full of life and smile never left his face which was full of life.

The other one, my friends told me, was a husband of a primary school teacher. He was shot dead in front of his house on the third day of Eid and no one knows the reason behind assassinating him. The third one, however, was assassinated because he was Christian! Yes, I know. It's terrible.

People in the neighborhood believe that these assassinations increased when "people of Fallujah, who left their destroyed city, bought houses in the neighborhood." Maybe this is true and maybe it's not. But it started when they came to the neighborhood. My neighborhood was one of the most peaceful parts of Adhamiya, a Sunni district in Baghdad. If you come to it, you'll notice how different it is than the other neighborhoods in Baghdad. Internet cafés, for instance, remain open till a late hour at night, unlike other cafés in other neighborhoods that close at 7 p.m. sometimes. There is a mutual respect between the police patrols and people of the neighborhoods. Any stranger is caught by police. That's why people say the killers live in the neighborhoods and know the people here, the people who used to live peacefully.

Of course, these assassinations made my parents worry again. "Where have you been all that time?" my mother asked me when I returned back home at 10:30 p.m. "Don't you hear of the assassinations and killings?" she said. This thing made her furious and always worried. She is worried if someone would hurt me.

One more thing to mention, 24 Steps to Liberty started posting his diaries he wrote when he was in the United States last March.

Happy Eid.. Treasure of Baghdad's diary

I have to confess this Eid looked different than the other previous Eids.
"Happy Eid" were the very first words I said to my father kissing him on his cheeks [a tradition we do during Eid]. Then I had to wake up my mother who was sleeping because it was still early. "Happy Eid Mom," I told her doing the same, kissing on her cheeks. I had to wake her up because I had to go to work. My day off was supposed to be on the second day of Eid according to my request. The reason behind that is that I wanted to be with my family to visit my eldest uncle's house which we MUST visit during Eid.

At 8:45 a.m., I arrived at the office and found J, my friend and J2, sitting in the office. "Good morning and Happy Eid," they both said to me. "We don't want to bother you but the internet is not working since last night." I tried for hours to fix it but it wasn't fixed till four hours passed. By that time, I enjoyed finishing the third chapter of Anthony Shadid's book.

"Happy Eid," I said for the tenth time I guess but now to my best friend O. this was left on his answer machine. O called back an hour later. "I am coming to the office," he said. "Are you crazy?" I asked him. "You are supposed to have the day off and enjoy your time with your family," I said. "You know me, I am workcoholic," he said.

O came and we worked as Iraq is always full of events even if it is Eid. By 4 p.m. I went out to talk to some people about their impression about this year's Eid. I was surprised. All the people I talked to were so happy to the extent they said, "We are not afraid."

Saad Salman, for instance, took his two sons and three daughters out to have fun during Eid. "We decided to go out this Eid because we feel security is better than it used to be," said Salman, a 42 year- old trader who was having ice cream with his children at a crowded Ice Cream store in central Baghdad neighborhood of Karrada. Salman who lives in New Baghdad district said he brought his children because they kept bragging him to go out. "Mostly children enjoy Eid. I want them to feel happy," he said.
Unlike other Iraqis I interviewed in Baghdad before Eid, he said, "We think the future will be brighter, these are the first steps to stability."

When I came back I wrote my report and compiled the Eid impression in other cities from our stringers. People in Tikrit, Saddam Hussein's hometown, went out in the streets happy with their children and relatives. They went to restaurants and amusement parks. Children played soccer in the streets, police and traffic police disallowed vehicles move in some areas as these areas are crowded with people. An amusement park that was deserted since the invasion is reopened this year and is full of people celebrating Eid.

The situation in Iraq's western province, Anbar, where most of the insurgency operations come from, Eid was different. People said they have no Eid. They said they went to the cemeteries where their relatives and friends were buried as they were killed few days ago by a U.S. air strike. "There is no happiness in our hearts," a resident said.

In Falluja, people were seen with their families walking in the streets or driving as there are no amusement parks. The big park is taken by the Marines and the smaller is taken by the Iraqi army. People were left without a place to have fun in.

By 7 p.m., O and I were done with work. I suggested having dinner together and we did. We went together to Samad, a restaurant in the upscale neighborhood in Baghdad. We had fun a lot. That was the first time I go out to have fun with O for more than a month. The last time was in Amman when we spend one of the best times in my life.
I returned back home at 10 p.m. and spent some time with my parents and then went to sleep.

The next day I woke up at 11:30 a.m., had breakfast, took a shower and dressed up to go visit my uncle. All my cousins, who are all married, were present with their families. Their kids were full of life playing and jumping here and there. My uncle, his wife, and cousins were so happy to see me this Eid as I was absent for two previous Eids being busy with work.

My aunt, prepared a huge lunch meal includes Mazgoof [the Iraqi grilled fish], Biriani rice, and different kinds of rice, salads, juices.. etc.

By 4 p.m., my friends called me and told me that we should go out and have fun. So, we met together and had tour in the dark streets of Baghdad which were lightened by the fireworks of the children and the teenagers. It was encouraging to see the people happy despite all the difficulties and danger they might face. Hand in hand, parents were walking with their children in the streets, young men were singing in their cars, children were dancing in the streets on the music coming from slowly moving cars, restaurants were full of hungry people for happiness not for food, and police and army checkpoints securing the crowds. I was very impressed and happy. These people are incredible. We always say that Iraqis are the most patient people on this sphere. I am so happy for the children whose childhood is caught in war and violence.

Today, the third and last day in Eid, we are having a big lunch party for our staff and their families in our house's big garden. Their children are playing near the pool and on the slide carrying their balloons that have the same colors of their fancy Eid clothes.

"The Killing Fields"- Treasure of Baghdad's diary

Yesterday, I woke up late. I had the day off because my friend O took my Saturday off to see his friend who came back from Dubai.
Waking up at 11:30 a.m., I felt so comfortable. The past weeks made me very tired as we were busy covering the referendum, Saddam's trial and the formation of the political blocs' lists of candidates for the forthcoming elections in adition to be fasting for almost a month.

As a typical citizen lives in the 21st century, I went to my computer to check if I received any urgent emails and to see if there is breaking news or not. Of course I discovered one. A car bomb exploded in Basra killing dozens of Iraqi civilians shopping for Eid.

After that I turned on the TV and kept flipping the channels until I found a TV program with a famous female Tunisian singer, Latifa.

Twenty minutes before Iftar, I went to the kitchen. My mother was so busy in making the food. She working alone as my only sister is married and lives in another house now. I tried to help her but by that time, Iftar was ready. I offered to do the traditional salad Iraqis always have: mixed cucumber, tomato, green pepper, and olive.

Watching a comedy on a local channel, my mother asked me if I bought something for Eid. "No," I replied. I did not buy anything as I was very busy. "Why don't you go now?" she wondered. I thought it was a good idea. So I called two of my friends and went to Karrada, a neighborhood considered a big shopping center in the capital.

My friend O, called me while I was there asking me if I watched "The Killing Fields" movie. I decided to watch it after I return back home.

The movie is about a New York Times reporter covering the civil war in Cambodia. Together with local representative, they cover some of the tragedy and madness of the war. When the American forces leave, the Cambodian sends his family with them, but stays behind himself to help the American reporter cover the event. As an American, the reporter won't have any trouble leaving the country, but the situation is different for the Cambodian; he's a local, and the Khmer Rouge are moving in.

At the end I felt that it is impossible the same thing would happen in Iraq. The people of this country are wise enough to understand that we don't need this. We need peace back. Iraq's atmosphere is different and the case is different. If it consisted of only one sect, I think we would have gone through the same. If there are only Shiites here, the Badr troops would do what the Khmer Rouge did and if only the Sunnis are here, the Sunni insurgents would do the same. Thanks be to God that we are a country of different sects, all mixed in relations and marriages and all feel that we will survive. We are wise enough to think about it.

Here is something about the movie:

The Killing Fields (1984), a remarkable and deeply affecting movie, is based upon a true story of friendship, loyalty, the horrors of war and survival, while following the historical events surrounding the US evacuation from Vietnam in 1975. The authentic-looking, unforgettable epic movie, directed by Roland Joffe (his first feature movie) and produced by David Puttnam (the Oscar victor three years earlier for Chariots of Fire (1981)), was shot on location in Thailand (and Canada). Cambodian doctor, non-actor Haing Ngor, in his film debut, was an actual survivor of the Cambodian holocaust. He was tortured and experienced the starvation and death of his real-life family during the actual historical events revisited in this movie.

The movie's screenplay, by Bruce Robinson, was adapted from Pulitzer Prize-winning NY Times reporter Sydney Schanberg's The Death and Life of Dith Pran from The NY Times Magazine. It was nominated for seven Academy Awards, including Best Picture, Best Actor (Sam Waterston), Best Director (first-timer Roland Joffe), and Best Screenplay Based on Material from Another Medium (Bruce Robinson) and won three Oscars: Best Supporting Actor (Haing S. Ngor), Best Cinematography (Chris Menges), and Best movie Editing (Jim Clark).
Jonathan Demme's one-man show comedy Swimming to Cambodia (1987), a rambling 87 minute monologue, provides an elaborative account of Spalding Gray's experiences as a bit player (as a US consul) in The Killing Fields during the SE Asia shoot.

American newspaper correspondent, New York Times reporter Sydney Schanberg (Sam Waterston) is covering the secret US bombing campaign in Cambodia, along with American cameraman Al Rockoff (John Malkovich) and English reporter Jon Swain (Julian Sands). After having persuaded his Cambodian assistant, friend and interpreter, Dith Pran (Dr. Haing S. Ngor) to remain behind with him to help cover the story after the communist Khmer Rouge takeover and withdrawal of US military forces, Schanberg unintentionally betrays his aide by miscalculating the situation. They are separated and Pran is forced to remain when Schanberg and other American journalists and Westerners evacuate to escape a life-threatening situation in occupied-Cambodia during the fall of Phnom Penh in 1975.

The movie chronicles unforgettable scenes of suffering endured during the Cambodian bloodbath (known as "Year Zero") that killed 3 million Cambodians, when the courageous and indomitable Dith Pran endures the atrocities of the Pol Pot regime and is captured by the communist Khmer Rouge and punished for befriending the Americans. His struggle to stay alive in the rural, barbaric 're-education' labor camp, his two escape attempts from his captors, and his horrifying walk through the skeletal remains of the brutal massacres in the Valley of Death, the muddy "killing fields," all present potent apocalyptic images on his journey to Thailand.

With John Lennon's tune Imagine playing on the soundtrack, Dith Pran - now finally reunited with Sydney on October 9th, 1979 (according to a subtitle), narrates the last line of the movie, affirming that Schanberg needn't ask for forgiveness because there was literally 'nothing to forgive":

Sydney: (Do you) forgive me?Dith Pran: Nothing to forgive, Sydney, nothing.

The postscript for the movie is provided as a footnote, as the camera slowly pans to the left over the rooftops, and looks out over rice fields:
Dith Pran returned, with Sydney Schanberg, to America to be reunited with his family. He now works as a photographer for The New York Times where Sydney Schanberg is a columnist. Cambodia's torment has not yet ended. The refugee camps on the Thai border are still crowded with the children of the killing fields.

Baghdad Halloween-Treasure of Baghdad's diary

Although I am not American but I have many American friends to share Halloween with. These friends always share Eid with us. For me, yesterday's Halloween was the first to share with them. Generally, Iraqis do not celebrate Halloween as it is not part of their tradition. So we did not have the ideal celebration. O.2, our colleague, bought an 18kg-Pumpkin which we put outside the office with a candle inside to frighten people outside.

We thought a lot about what to dress up. J suggested being Peter Pan, O suggested being the famous Oprah Winfrey and I suggested wearing the Arabic Agal and Kuffiya. Being busy the whole day, we were not able to get all what we wanted to be at night, so I suggested that all of us wear the Arabic dress except J who wore her head-to-toe black Abaya. When we finished dressing up, we became a traditional Arab family. "Alright, I'll be with the sheep in the back of the truck and both of u will be in the front," J said sarcastically criticizing the old-fashioned way of treating women in the countryside of most of the Arab countries where women are not allowed to be among men in the front of the truck. Instead, she should be with the cattle in the back.

That was the first time I ever wore Agal. "I like it," I said to my dudes. "What?! You like it?!," J. wondered. "It's scary," she said.

After we put the Pumpkin outside the office, we went inside, drinking tea and smoking Hookah. Don't laugh if I tell you that we watched the Simpsons Special Halloween. We all like it. We were also supposed to watch the Halloween of Friends but it wasn't downloaded by that time.

After that wonderful night, I returned back home at 9:30 p.m., took a shower, had some fruits, watched a TV program then my favorite Alhoor Alain, read part of Anthony Shadid's book and went to sleep at 2 a.m.