Last Year, America Opened Her Arms

There was a mother, a sister and seemingly a brother. They cocooned one person, a young man in my age. Next to him were two huge black suitcases, a hand bag and a line of dozens of people waiting to be checked in. It was August 23^rd, but the year was 2006. The place was the gloomy Alia Airport in Amman, Jordan. Time was moving slowly, like a turtle wrestling to reach its destination. Standing two feet away from this young man, Omar and I looked miserably sad. Resting our heavy luggage on the floor, I needed to lift them again and take them back to where I bought them. That was it, time to leave. Time to soar high. Time to leave twenty years of happiness and sadness behind.

We were alone. Tow Iraqis standing alone. No one to hug them. No one to tell them good-bye. No one to wipe their farewell tears. What made it harder was the man’s family farewelling him. His mother raised her hands towards her son’s head. He bent down to kiss her cheeks and mix his tears with hers. How I envied him at the moment. How lonely I felt for not being able to wipe my lonely mother’s tears in Baghdad. How hard it was for me to leave without having her hug me and kiss me good-bye. I looked around. Nothing was clear. My tears created a filter, like a zigzagged glass we put for the bathroom windows. Everything became dark, nothing but seeing myself alone in a railway road. A scary night, a black sky without a moon, a severe whistling wind, an owl screaming in the darkness to reach her prey, a wolf on a mountain edge, and a desert breeze chilling my spine. Then a cell phone ringtone, a vibration. Abu S’s name appeared on the screen. Without a second second, I pressed the green headset-shaped answering button, and said “Abu S. That’s it. We are leaving.” These were the last two sentences I recall saying all the time on the phone. I felt mute, unable to function. I thanked God he called. He is not only a friend. He is family, a brother, a father and everything. His love, passion, brotherhood embraced me when we worked together at the newspaper’s office. His voice compensated my feelings. Unable to look at me in this shape, Omar turned his face towards the crowd. I passed the phone to him. His face was red, with tears cutting his cheeks like a bomb-broken piece of glass.

We passed the line, checked in and walked towards the gate. With every step I walked, I recalled lurid memories of twenty five years of my life: running away from the Baathists who wanted to force my father join the people’s army, years of prosperity, years of sanctions, wars, years of hardships, of success, years I spent at work writing, covering news, talking to people on stretchers, watching piles of bodies, cut legs, burned and smashed heads, years of elections, referendum, polling centers, slogans, demonstrations, freedom, torture, loss. I recalled Baghdad and every street in it, every building I saw, every car I passed by, every child’s smile, every elderly’s wisdom, every woman’s struggle, and every man’s will and strength. What would your fate be, Oh Baghdad, I said. Would you restore your beauty? If not for me, for the new generation? She never betrayed me. She was my Baghdad. Mine, my everything. She was the city that surrounded me with love, happiness and success. How fair was it to leave her like this? I farwelled these memories, my entity, my roots and looked forward. That past I good-byed made me stand on my feet, made me look onward to the future.

An entire new chapter of my life started when the plane landed. A brand new chapter, an ambiguous one, but a hopeful one. As my feet cleaved its way towards the airport gate in DC, America’s own doors were opened. A tall, sharp, and dangerously beautiful woman was waiting for me. As tall as and as quintessential as the Statue of Liberty, wearing a beautiful white dress with stars and red stripes flowing on her beautiful body, America stood in front of me. A bona fide smile, a big one and a hug followed. “Welcome to America,” she said. “Come to my folds.” With confident steps, I walked. Faster and faster and faster. Until we became close. “Make yourself home,” she said as she hugged me. “Thank you America,” I said. “I came seeking your help.”

“You’ll find here, my friend. You’ll find it here.” She said.

baghdadtreasure@gmail.com

Ugly Reality

Yes, it's pretty gross. It's pretty ugly. It's even worse. That's how new Iraq turned to be. That's how we die everyday. That's how people live everyday. That's what these bodies you see dead went through. And that's how our politicians took part in this murder.

Warning: The content of the movie is very violent, ugly, and terrifying. If you have the guts to face reality and help Iraqis, you know where to click. Otherwise, go finish your business.

baghdadtreasure@gmail.com

New Tactics, Poor Future Plan

A capricious thing happened recently in Iraq. Armed men who brutalized and terrorized people changed their strategy to suddenly help those whom they victimized. The U.S. press seemed to enjoy presenting the avant-garde step these insurgents took.

In recent days, the U.S. has taken a major and different step in fighting terrorists in Iraq, dealing tête-à-tête with them. In Baqubah where al-Qaeda announced its state for instance, Iraqi local insurgents turned against this terrorist group whom they befriended for more than three years.

This is a major step in making al-Qaeda understand that it is no longer popular among its former long-term friends from the Iraqi insurgency. This step has brought some positive news at least in a few places in Iraq where 400 to 500 fighters were encamped in groups of about a dozen at about 30 or 40 safe houses in western Baqubah fighting against al-Qaeda and providing the U.S. military by important tips about the hideouts of the terrorists and their weapon caches warehouses.

A recent Washington Post article sensed this positive side of this step. Yet what this article failed to question was “Is there any plan next?”

It has been known to every single person on earth that the current situation in Iraq has resulted because of the failure of the Bush administration in setting up a good plan after the invasion. The Republicans ruling the United States have been pretty stubborn in admitting that they listened to the wrong people prior to the invasion, thinking that the mere invasion will make the world happier and Iraq in a better shape. No real plans and no trust-worthy people were put in their agenda.

Today, the question is, this step is positive now, but what’s next? Are there any future plans? Are we back to the same circle of carrying out missions with no future plans? Even though this new step is good in fighting the worst kind of terrorists, but I still have a sense of malaise. I want these terrorists to be defeated, but the insurgents who turned against the terrorists are Machiavellian. I can’t simply trust them.

Let’s suppose al-Qaeda is defeated. Just suppose. Then let’s think about these US-backed former insurgents who took over. What do they ask in return? First, join the political process. Second, join the Iraqi security forces. Three, establish a new government with no orders from Bush.

The Post article mentioned that U.S. soldiers and commanders voiced wariness over the intentions of the former insurgents. "Some of them want to be reintegrated back in society, they want to push al-Qaeda out. Others want to be the next thug group that goes around and demands electricity payments. We're watching them closely," Capt. Mike Edwards, an intelligence officer with the 3rd Brigade told the newspaper. So this should lead the military to question what should be done next.

What will happen if these former armed insurgents become part of the government, parliament or the Iraqi security forces? As an Iraqi citizen, I never trust any murderer to be my representative. Once a murderer, always a murderer. Bringing such people to important positions will never solve the problem. We will be like replacing terrorist-sympathizer Adnan al-Dulaimi with this 21-years old insurgent the paper featured. Now, what if they joined the Iraqi security forces, which might never happen because it’s already controlled by he US-backed terrorist Shiite militia, Badr. But let’s suppose. They’ll took up arms, put on their military uniform and raid houses of Shiite civilians and massacre them like what the Shiite Badr and Mahdi militias did against Sunni civilians to avenge their people. The result will create more mayhem, bloodshed, and disasters.

Desultory military strategies might seem all right when executed, but they might not necessarily mean the same if we look for the future. They might be, if a good plan is set up. What is the good plan, I don’t know. I am neither a politician nor a military man. But all I know at the meantime is there should be a plan. Otherwise, all the efforts the US soldiers and Iraqi people are doing will be boondoggle.

baghdadtreasure@gmail.com

Good Riddance

When people’s lives, souls and blood have no value in the eyes of their leaders, one should not be surprised by all the slaughter, killings and kidnappings. When all what they care about is fighting each other instead of being united, one should not expect progress. When greed and hatred filled their heart instead of possessing the sense of camaraderie, one should not have any hope any time soon.

While reading the always-bad news this morning, I read yet another article about another political group in Iraq announcing their boycott. Following a month-long spat, all six ministers from the Tawafuq Sunni bloc tendered their resignation from Maliki's government. Their excuse was that the current government has failed in meeting a list of about a dozen demands.

We all know that the current Iraqi government is nothing but a piece of rock thrown at people to hurt them. Have you imagined being hit by a rock without being hurt? What kind of democracy is this when every now and then we see one of the “political blocs” announcing boycott without paying attention to the hundreds of innocents killed by day, the hundreds of thousands being displaced, and the millions who fled the atrocities of the war. When we heard of democracy, we thought those who would come to power were supposed to keep our unity stronger, not weaken it by greed and fights which reached the extent of slapping fights at the Parliament headquarters.

The game of withdrawal from the parliament and the government has become very easy as if it is a video game where players sit on their sofas and use the joystick to move their characters as they like. First, there were the illiterate, uneducated, terrorist and fanatic Sadrists. Now we have the terrorist, hateful, insurgency-booster Tawafuq. But our life is no game. It’s reality. It’s people with flesh and blood.

Have all the political blocs seen how seventy people were killed just in Baghdad today? Aren’t they supposed to sit down and try to find a way to help stop this mayhem? Aren’t they supposed to unite instead of divide? Oh I forgot. They don’t have to, because they are on vacation! What a bump! Hundreds are dying and millions are being displaced and the “democratic” parliament members take a 30-day vacation. How insulting this is to every Iraqi to see their representatives having fun while they suffer every single minute of their lives?

That’s it. I talked a lot about this failure government and parliament, but no one is listening. All the efforts of good people are gone. All the patience and strong will Iraqi possessed gone unappreciated, and all the hopes of a new democratic Iraq have faded away by these monsters who distorted the image of democracy. No Iraqi trusts democracy any more. Maybe, only those outside who have never experienced horror every day do. But for us, no. How can anyone make Iraqis trust this process anymore? How can they go to polling centers in 2009 if all the roads are closed and barbed with bombs and insurgents? How are they going to decide to vote when all they could see is a bunch of extreme Sunni and Shiite Islamists running for the elections? How can they bring secularism back to their country if America, the freedom-boasting country supports these Islamists?

For now, let’s count the dead. The number is increasing, the horror became more terrifying and life became miserable for everyone living there. Hopefully, none of the Paradise-seekers-vacationists come back to their seats. If that happened, I would be more than happy to not to look back. I would look straight for the future and for the right people to run the country, and tell those behind me: GOOD RIDDANCE.

baghdadtreasure@gmail.com

Rejoice and Grief

By the time Iraqis were rejoicing the victorious winning of the Asian Cup, Sameer’s mother, my cousin, was in her worst shapes. She sat grieving at the Baghdad Morgue waiting for the curfew to be lifted to take her teenage son to burial.

A 17-year-old teenager, Sameer died doing a noble thing, helping his wounded neighbors and friends to ambulances after a massive car bomb ripped off most of the buildings surrounding his house in Karrada, wounding and killing most of his neighbors and friends, and leaving a three-story apartment building on fire.

My father received the news after one in the morning. Abbas, my other cousin and the uncle of the slain Sameer, sobbed on the phone, telling my father how it all happened.

It was a normal Thursday afternoon in Karrada, a neighborhood in Baghdad where hundreds of displaced people found a shelter. Karrada is also known of being a shopping attraction to many Baghdadis. Men’s and women’s wear, jewelry shops, and restaurants are among the many other grocery stores. Sameer and his friends were standing in front of their house drinking some soda to ease the 120 F heat roaming the electricity-absent city. Not too far from them, a car bomb rushed to the market area across the street from his house, exploded and cut people into pieces. Instead of running away from the fire and the second possible attack, Sameer rushed to the fire hurricane. Carrying people with his own skinny arms, his father said he didn’t feel their weight. As strong as superman, his utmost effort was to save as much people as he could. While doing so, his cell phone rang. It was from his terrified father who was in another neighborhood. He was relieved to hear his son’s voice, but alas how short that was. He begged him to leave the area, but Sameer refused. “I can’t. There are people dying in front of me. I have to take them to the hospital or the ambulance,” he said while crying.

Then, a roar. Gunshot and sirens coming from the Iraqi troops accompanied by the Americans. People grew more scared expecting another car bomb would target both American and Iraqi troops and the civilians who were helping evacuate the 130 wounded. As they arrived, both armies were doing nothing except cordoning the area. Angry relatives of the dead and the wounded started screaming at the troops asking them to leave, accusing them for being the indirect reason that led the country to this state of chaos and mayhem. The US troops left without arguing with the angry mob, but Iraqi troops descended from their vehicles and started fighting with those who lost their relatives. Then, one Iraqi soldier opened fire on the mob killing whoever was standing in front of him. Sameer was one of them. A bullet came right in the center of his heart. The wounded child whom Sameer was carrying fell from his arms, and Sameer fell dead over him.

In the middle of the chaos and the pools of blood and the plumes of smoke, Sameer was carried by another neighbor not to the hospital, but to the morgue instead. On his way there, he called my cousin and her husband telling them how a small bullet took their son’s life. Grief took his way to their small house.

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Sameer was a very friendly young man. His parents struggled painfully to make him continue studying at school. Like many other families who suffered during the 12-year embargo, his family was categorized as the worst. His father, a government employee received a $1.5 per month salary, which was not enough to buy eggs. His mother quit her job and became a tailor to earn more money to help her husband afford living. Life was harder than everyone expected. Money wasn’t enough at all. They had to sell their house and everything in it, except the carpet where the five family members slept on. For years, they almost had nothing decent to eat. Even the food ration which was agreed between Saddam and the United Nations, was not enough for a big family like theirs. Sameer and his three brothers had to quit school. They worked for years as clerks, waiters and many other jobs where they were able to restore what the family sold. They also saved some money to school. Returning back to school was a very happy event in the family. The boys graduated from colleges, except Sameer who was only 17 before he died. It was only one year a head of him to enter college.

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As I was watching the soccer match live on the internet, I couldn't but think of Sameer and his grieving mother. He was a huge fan of soccer. I thought of him when our team won, and never forgot how his body was still at the morgue when the referee announced the end of the game.

Goodbye Sameer. We’ll miss you a lot. We’ll miss your smiling face when always won backgammon. We’ll always remember your earlier struggle and your heroism that will pave the road of martyrdom and greatness of all Iraqis who sacrificed themselves to help our country.

baghdadtreasure@gmail.com

Great Job Lions of Mesopotamia

Congratulations to the Lions of Mesopotamia for winning the Asian Cup. You did not let us down. You brought a smile and joy to our hearts, and took the pain out of our chests even if it was for one day.

3asho isood il Iraq

Below are two video clips taken by my friends when they took the streets celebrating the soccer victory. Despite the daily horrors, people defeated their fear and celebrated for the first time since the war started.

BBC Award for the Ambassador of the Iraqi and Arab Song

Congratulations to Kadhum al-Sahir. As the presenter said, “if we stop listening to our politicians and listen to our musicians more, we could have world peace.”

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