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.
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.
