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…
