The day was Monday 17, time was 10 p.m., but the year was 2003. Sitting close to the radio, I was listening to the news on the BBC. Silence filled out the room. My mother and sister were like me, concentrating on every word. The news was about the coming war.
“Bush had declared to the Iraqi people ‘the day of your liberation is near.’”, the BBC anchor said quoting George Bush’s words to the Iraqi people three days before the war. A moment of silence and a sigh followed. “It is going to happen. There is no way out,” I told my anxious mother.
For us, war is not only a word. It's destruction, killings, more suffering and sorrow. The war with Iran, the Second Gulf war and its aftermath uprsing caused a lot of pain and a negative image of the west inside Iraqis’ hearts.
After hearing Bush’s statement, we had to be completely ready. Windows were X-taped, water filled every pot, glass and bottle, can food filled the store, and bread, eggs, chicken, meat, bottled water, tomatoes, cucumber, and other stuff filled our old refrigerator and freezer. The cabinets contained piles of tea, sugar, and salt bags. Our house’s backyard was lined up with propane cylinders and kerosene for heaters and stoves.
During that time, my father was in Libya. He left the country in 2000 to work there as an English professor. His salary, like all Iraqi teachers and professors, did not exceed $1.5 per month, whereas he was paid $600 there. He called everyday and was very careful in what he said as anything he hints might take us all to jail. All telephones were wire tapped. He was so worried. I told him not to worry. “It’s not the first war we go through, dad,” I told him. Silence followed by him saying he wish he was there with us in these hard times. “Don’t worry. We’ll be fine. Just pray for us."
The next day, I went to college to bid everyone farewell. We might not see each other again. This was a war. Nothing was guaranteed. My sister did the same. In the afternoon, the telephone rang. It was my aunt. “Can we come and stay in your house?” she asked my mother. We accepted, of course. They live near the airport! My aunt has two daughters, one of them is married and the other is not. My cousin’s husband has to join the army as he was summoned for the military service at the time. I felt a big responsibility, to be frank. I was responsible for five women. In Iraq, if there is a man, he should be the one protecting and supporting them. However, Iraqi women reflected their utmost bravery in such conditions. My aunt for instance, lost her husband in 1982 when Saddam executed him and his brothers just because their father was born in Iran.
On the 19th, I decided to go out with a friend of mine to see Baghdad at night. Although I am not that religious, I felt I need to visit the Kadhimiya Shrine. My friend, who is a Sunni, and I took the last tour in Baghdad before the war. We went to Adhamiya, the Sunni neighborhood and then Kadhimiya, the Shiite one. It was dark, not because there was no electricity, but because all the shops were closed and no civilian could be seen in the streets. There were just checkpoints set up by armed Baathists and olive-color-uniformed of policemen. By 7 pm, the streets were quiet. We were the only ones driving. “M, do you see? It is dead. Baghdad has died,” a tear dropped on my cheek secretly in the darkness without letting M see it.
When we arrived to Kadhimiya, which is across the river from Adhamiya, the scene looked the same and only the green light of the main gate of the Kadhimiya shrine was glowing. I needed to stop and enter the shrine to pray, but I changed my mind as it was already late. I did not want to make my mother scared more than she was.
By the time, we returned back to our neighborhood, I farewelled my friend. We promised to call each other everyday to make sure everyone is still alive. My mother, aunt, sister and cousins were all sitting in the living room which was surrounded with empty white, newly pained walls. We removed everything breakable from these walls in case they fall and break when a rocket falls here or there. The state TV stations were not mentioning anything about the war, as if nothing would happen. I remember one TV station broadcasting a movie by Vandam! So I decided to turn on the radio. This time, the news came from Radio Mont Carlo, an Arabic-speaking radio station broadcasting in France. My father’s old Panasonic radio set was in my lap. I was listening to all the news about Iraq. It is the time for war, the news said. We surrendered. Nothing we can do, just to wait and see what will happen.
While I was listening to the news, I had a mixed and strange feeling. “How do these forces look like?” I asked myself. What will they do? Will they break into our houses and kill us? Do they look like the Israeli heavily-equipped soldiers? Are they enemies invading my country? Did they come to kill us and destroy everything to get rid of Saddam? These are the photos I could have in my mind at the time.Then, the picture of the previous two wars flashed back into my mind. The vision of the Baathists chasing my father from house to house to force him join the battle against Iran woke me up. I was confused. Whom should I support? The Americans, Saddam, or Iraq? I hid this confusion in my heart as I was taught not to say any such feeling in public as it might cause to my entire family’s execution. I turned off the radio, locked all the doors and windows and fled to the shelter room we had prepared. No place for beds was available. We had lined-up matrices. I had put the telephone next to my pillow in case something happens and I can not go to the living room to bring it. We expected to be locked in this shelter for days.
At 5:30 a.m., the war has officially started. “wake up, wake up,” my mother shouted to wake all of us. “Siren,” she said. By the time, I wasn’t even asleep. I heard it clearly but did not want to scare them and wake them up. Huh! They were all awake, I discovered. None of us was sleeping. I looked into my mother’s face. It was pale and full of fear and pain. Pulling the Quran, she started reading. By every Booom we hear, her voice goes louder. “Allahu Akbar”, she screamed. The sounds of explosions were so scary. They were like when we heard them in 1991.
Shortly after the start of war, my other aunt called and said Iraqi tanks had been located in front of their house to attack the Americans when they reach the airport road. I told her to come with her two children and she did until the battle reached our neighborhood. My aunt’s husband came to take us to his house where the battled was over. We refused at the beginning. We did not want to leave our house. My sister and mother were sobbing. “I don’t want to leave our house. We grew up here and we will die here,” my sister said with tears washing her face. By this time, we were able to see warplanes bombing locations near the neighborhood..
We had no other choice but to leave. A few families remained in the neighborhood. everybody was leaving. I took all our documents and money in case we never return to our house and then went to my aunt’s house, the one living near the airport. My uncle was driving. He drove in the canal road which was full of families walking to an unknown destination fleeing the bombings that may take their lives. Iraqi army soldiers were lined up along the canal road waiting for the enemy to shoot and kill. My mother was crying all the way to my aunt’s house imaging all the poor soldiers being killed one after the other.
This is one of the million stories that were not told. This is how we woke up everyday during the war. This is how we lived, talked, and cried.
When Saddam’s statue was downed, I was stunned. Oh my God! Saddam is gone. We are free. Yes, we are free. The Americans liberated us. I was so happy. A huge burden was removed. We can work, study, have fun, and live like others. I did not expect that I was too optimistic to the extent that I believed what was said. When I first saw the US army in the streets, I said these are the ones who broke all the locks that Saddam and his gang have imprisoned us with. I didn’t know that the locks coming later are bigger and much bigger than Saddam’s.
Three years have passed. I feel so disappointed. I thought this war was the last as we were told and promised. I did not expect it would be the opposite, the beginning. But what beginning? beginning of horror, fear, civil war, destruction, and death.
I wonder how long this will last. Happy War Anniversary!
“Bush had declared to the Iraqi people ‘the day of your liberation is near.’”, the BBC anchor said quoting George Bush’s words to the Iraqi people three days before the war. A moment of silence and a sigh followed. “It is going to happen. There is no way out,” I told my anxious mother.
For us, war is not only a word. It's destruction, killings, more suffering and sorrow. The war with Iran, the Second Gulf war and its aftermath uprsing caused a lot of pain and a negative image of the west inside Iraqis’ hearts.
After hearing Bush’s statement, we had to be completely ready. Windows were X-taped, water filled every pot, glass and bottle, can food filled the store, and bread, eggs, chicken, meat, bottled water, tomatoes, cucumber, and other stuff filled our old refrigerator and freezer. The cabinets contained piles of tea, sugar, and salt bags. Our house’s backyard was lined up with propane cylinders and kerosene for heaters and stoves.
During that time, my father was in Libya. He left the country in 2000 to work there as an English professor. His salary, like all Iraqi teachers and professors, did not exceed $1.5 per month, whereas he was paid $600 there. He called everyday and was very careful in what he said as anything he hints might take us all to jail. All telephones were wire tapped. He was so worried. I told him not to worry. “It’s not the first war we go through, dad,” I told him. Silence followed by him saying he wish he was there with us in these hard times. “Don’t worry. We’ll be fine. Just pray for us."
The next day, I went to college to bid everyone farewell. We might not see each other again. This was a war. Nothing was guaranteed. My sister did the same. In the afternoon, the telephone rang. It was my aunt. “Can we come and stay in your house?” she asked my mother. We accepted, of course. They live near the airport! My aunt has two daughters, one of them is married and the other is not. My cousin’s husband has to join the army as he was summoned for the military service at the time. I felt a big responsibility, to be frank. I was responsible for five women. In Iraq, if there is a man, he should be the one protecting and supporting them. However, Iraqi women reflected their utmost bravery in such conditions. My aunt for instance, lost her husband in 1982 when Saddam executed him and his brothers just because their father was born in Iran.
On the 19th, I decided to go out with a friend of mine to see Baghdad at night. Although I am not that religious, I felt I need to visit the Kadhimiya Shrine. My friend, who is a Sunni, and I took the last tour in Baghdad before the war. We went to Adhamiya, the Sunni neighborhood and then Kadhimiya, the Shiite one. It was dark, not because there was no electricity, but because all the shops were closed and no civilian could be seen in the streets. There were just checkpoints set up by armed Baathists and olive-color-uniformed of policemen. By 7 pm, the streets were quiet. We were the only ones driving. “M, do you see? It is dead. Baghdad has died,” a tear dropped on my cheek secretly in the darkness without letting M see it.
When we arrived to Kadhimiya, which is across the river from Adhamiya, the scene looked the same and only the green light of the main gate of the Kadhimiya shrine was glowing. I needed to stop and enter the shrine to pray, but I changed my mind as it was already late. I did not want to make my mother scared more than she was.
By the time, we returned back to our neighborhood, I farewelled my friend. We promised to call each other everyday to make sure everyone is still alive. My mother, aunt, sister and cousins were all sitting in the living room which was surrounded with empty white, newly pained walls. We removed everything breakable from these walls in case they fall and break when a rocket falls here or there. The state TV stations were not mentioning anything about the war, as if nothing would happen. I remember one TV station broadcasting a movie by Vandam! So I decided to turn on the radio. This time, the news came from Radio Mont Carlo, an Arabic-speaking radio station broadcasting in France. My father’s old Panasonic radio set was in my lap. I was listening to all the news about Iraq. It is the time for war, the news said. We surrendered. Nothing we can do, just to wait and see what will happen.
While I was listening to the news, I had a mixed and strange feeling. “How do these forces look like?” I asked myself. What will they do? Will they break into our houses and kill us? Do they look like the Israeli heavily-equipped soldiers? Are they enemies invading my country? Did they come to kill us and destroy everything to get rid of Saddam? These are the photos I could have in my mind at the time.Then, the picture of the previous two wars flashed back into my mind. The vision of the Baathists chasing my father from house to house to force him join the battle against Iran woke me up. I was confused. Whom should I support? The Americans, Saddam, or Iraq? I hid this confusion in my heart as I was taught not to say any such feeling in public as it might cause to my entire family’s execution. I turned off the radio, locked all the doors and windows and fled to the shelter room we had prepared. No place for beds was available. We had lined-up matrices. I had put the telephone next to my pillow in case something happens and I can not go to the living room to bring it. We expected to be locked in this shelter for days.
At 5:30 a.m., the war has officially started. “wake up, wake up,” my mother shouted to wake all of us. “Siren,” she said. By the time, I wasn’t even asleep. I heard it clearly but did not want to scare them and wake them up. Huh! They were all awake, I discovered. None of us was sleeping. I looked into my mother’s face. It was pale and full of fear and pain. Pulling the Quran, she started reading. By every Booom we hear, her voice goes louder. “Allahu Akbar”, she screamed. The sounds of explosions were so scary. They were like when we heard them in 1991.
Shortly after the start of war, my other aunt called and said Iraqi tanks had been located in front of their house to attack the Americans when they reach the airport road. I told her to come with her two children and she did until the battle reached our neighborhood. My aunt’s husband came to take us to his house where the battled was over. We refused at the beginning. We did not want to leave our house. My sister and mother were sobbing. “I don’t want to leave our house. We grew up here and we will die here,” my sister said with tears washing her face. By this time, we were able to see warplanes bombing locations near the neighborhood..
We had no other choice but to leave. A few families remained in the neighborhood. everybody was leaving. I took all our documents and money in case we never return to our house and then went to my aunt’s house, the one living near the airport. My uncle was driving. He drove in the canal road which was full of families walking to an unknown destination fleeing the bombings that may take their lives. Iraqi army soldiers were lined up along the canal road waiting for the enemy to shoot and kill. My mother was crying all the way to my aunt’s house imaging all the poor soldiers being killed one after the other.
This is one of the million stories that were not told. This is how we woke up everyday during the war. This is how we lived, talked, and cried.
When Saddam’s statue was downed, I was stunned. Oh my God! Saddam is gone. We are free. Yes, we are free. The Americans liberated us. I was so happy. A huge burden was removed. We can work, study, have fun, and live like others. I did not expect that I was too optimistic to the extent that I believed what was said. When I first saw the US army in the streets, I said these are the ones who broke all the locks that Saddam and his gang have imprisoned us with. I didn’t know that the locks coming later are bigger and much bigger than Saddam’s.
Three years have passed. I feel so disappointed. I thought this war was the last as we were told and promised. I did not expect it would be the opposite, the beginning. But what beginning? beginning of horror, fear, civil war, destruction, and death.
I wonder how long this will last. Happy War Anniversary!
