January 3,
Well, I was supposed to leave on January 3rd, but it seems America did not want to get rid of me that fast. I went to Reagan airport to leave to NYC and then to Jordan. My flight was supposed to be at 5 p.m. but it was delayed first till 7. They said the airplane did not even arrive because of the bad weather. I said ok, it might come soon and still I have time to catch the RJ flight to Jordan which was supposed at 11 p.m. Suddenly, the screen changed the NY flight till 9. I was shocked. I thought about it for a second and said within my mind that I won’t be able to make it. I should be before 10 p.m. in NY to check in and inform the airport that I am leaving, being a visitor to the country.
I was really mad. I did not what to do. I called J. She was surprised as well and she suggested that she calls RJ to see if they wait for the passengers coming from Washington DC. She called but she got the Answer machine which said that the RJ flight is still on time. She advised me to change my flight and not to depend on luck or chances. And that was what I did. I changed my reservation for the next day. And so did all the other people who were supposed to be on the same plane. Finally, I discovered that the flight is cancelled and will not arrive at 9. So, I was glad that I changed the reservation.
The worse part for me was receiving the luggage and take them back again to J’s house. Anyway, I had to do it. I took the luggage and took a taxi to J’s house. Now, my other bad luck was that the driver did not know the areas well. So, I was trying to reach J to explain to him the route. I called her several times but I did not reach her easily. I left a voice message to her asking her to call as soon as she gets this message. And she did.
“I said I’ll see you soon, but I did not expect that soon!” J said when she opened the door for me. Although I was so mad and tired, I laughed out loud because the same thing happened to her when she was leaving Baghdad few months ago.
I went in, and saw S, J’s friend. She was watching a football match! When I sat to get some rest, J brought a bottle of beer for me to relax.
After that I had a shower and went to bed because I was so tired and exhausted.
January 4,
“Ah! I have to do the same thing today,” I said when I woke up. I was really tired and wanted to sleep. Anyway, I put my luggage in J’s car. She went to the newspaper and I went for a walk as it was too early for me to go the airport. My flight was at 2 p.m.
Thirty minutes before I left, I went to Starbucks. I had my daily regular coffee and sat there for about 20 minutes thinking of the coming days. I was sure enough that I miss Baghdad. I sat next to the window and looked at the people walking in the street and said to myself. “Poor Baghdad!”.
At this time, I felt as if I am back there. I remembered the streets that are now dangerous, I remembered the Tigris that is now isolated, I remembered the children that are deprived form their smile, I remembered the old days which I wish they are not gone. Within myself, I said I don’t to go back but I miss everything there. I will not lie and say that I wanted to go back. No, I wish I stay here. I am fed up. I sometimes hate myself and hate the day I was born. Why should everything be miserable? Isn’t it enough? I dare any one in the world endures what Iraqis are enduring now. Seriously, now I am going to turn my blog from public into private and make just my family and close friends read it. I want to speak freely about me, about my life and about my everyday life without thinking that because of what I am writing I might be killed because there are strangers in Iraq read blogs. I am afraid one day an insurgent might discover who I am and kill me for what I am writing considering me “an infidel in the lands of the infidels”. And by the way, I am not being illogical here. You can see how Zarqawi’s group read the most famous newspapers that are in English. They have people who read, translate and analyze. If they just analyze my situation, I am gone.
Few days ago, Jeffrey predicted where I work. I cannot blame him. I should blame myself for publishing my diary that might take me to death. One more thing, I think there is no benefit from writing about politics because there is no light at the end of the tunnel. Moreover, I really do not like the fact that there are some people who use insults in their comments like Jeffrey and someone called Diana who once said "you and yours weren't worth one hair on the head of one American. Not a one." Ignoring any kind of respect to the people who are dying by hundreds per day. Diana, if you lose one soldier per day, remember that there are 100 Iraqis die on the same day.
Anyway, this time, I made my mind. This would be the last entry on this blog. I apologize to those who really enjoyed reading "Treasure of Baghdad". I am sorry to tell you that neither the true Treasure of Baghdad nor the treasure of Baghdad, the blog, will no longer exist. The real treasure was destroyed by wars, looters, terrorists, exiles, and tyrants. The treasure of Baghdad, the blog, has the same. When I started this blog, I thought there would be some kind of change in my life. Unfortunally, it seems that I was fooling myself and so do other Iraqi bloggers.
Hopefully, I will continue blogging privately to pour everything in my heart in mind in a blog to get some kind of relief.
To end this entry, I wanted to say, that I arrived in Amman last night and will be going to Baghdad tomorrow hopefully.
And as 24 Steps to Liberty always says, Feeeeeeh!
