The War on Terror...
I'm feeling irritable and angry today. It's exactly a year since the war on Iraq began and it seems to be weighing heavily on everyone.

Last year, on this day, the war started during the early hours of the morning. I wasn't asleep… I hadn't slept since Bush's ultimatum a couple of days before. It wasn't because I was scared but because I didn't want to be asleep when the bombs started falling. The tears started falling with the first few thuds. I'm not very prone to tears, but that moment, a year ago today, I felt such sorrow at the sound of those bombs. It was a familiar feeling because it wasn't, after all, the first time America was bombing us. It didn’t seem fair that it was such a familiar feeling.

I felt horrible that Baghdad was being reduced to rubble. With every explosion, I knew that some vital part of it was going up in flames. It was terrible and I don't think I'd wish it on my worst enemy. That was the beginning of the 'liberation'… a liberation from sovereignty, a certain sort of peace, a certain measure of dignity. We've been liberated from our jobs, and our streets and the sanctity of our homes… some of us have even been liberated from the members of our family and friends.

A year later and our electricity is intermittent, at best, there constantly seems to be a fuel shortage and the streets aren't safe. When we walk down those streets, on rare occasions, the faces are haggard and creased with concern… concern over family members under detention, homes raided by Americans, hungry mouths to feed, and family members to keep safe from abduction, rape and death.

And where are we now, a year from the war? Sure- we own satellite dishes and the more prosperous own mobile phones… but where are we *really*? Where are the majority?

We're trying to fight against the extremism that seems to be upon us like a black wave; we're wondering, on an hourly basis, how long it will take for some semblance of normality to creep back into our lives; we're hoping and praying against civil war…

We're watching with disbelief as American troops roam the streets of our towns and cities and break violently into our homes... we're watching with anger as the completely useless Puppet Council sits giving out fat contracts to foreigners and getting richer by the day- the same people who cared so little for their country, that they begged Bush and his cronies to wage a war that cost thousands of lives and is certain to cost thousands more.

We're watching sardonically as an Iranian cleric in the south turns a once secular country into America's worst nightmare- a carbon copy of Iran. We're watching as the lies unravel slowly in front of the world- the WMD farce and the Al-Qaeda mockery.

And where are we now? Well, our governmental facilities have been burned to the ground by a combination of 'liberators' and 'Free Iraqi Fighters'; 50% of the working population is jobless and hungry; summer is looming close and our electrical situation is a joke; the streets are dirty and overflowing with sewage; our jails are fuller than ever with thousands of innocent people; we've seen more explosions, tanks, fighter planes and troops in the last year than almost a decade of war with Iran brought; our homes are being raided and our cars are stopped in the streets for inspections… journalists are being killed 'accidentally' and the seeds of a civil war are being sown by those who find it most useful; the hospitals overflow with patients but are short on just about everything else- medical supplies, medicine and doctors; and all the while, the oil is flowing.

But we've learned a lot. We've learned that terrorism isn't actually the act of creating terror. It isn't the act of killing innocent people and frightening others… no, you see, that's called a 'liberation'. It doesn't matter what you burn or who you kill- if you wear khaki, ride a tank or Apache or fighter plane and drop missiles and bombs, then you're not a terrorist- you're a liberator.

The war on terror is a joke… Madrid was proof of that last week… Iraq is proof of that everyday.

I hope someone feels safer, because we certainly don't.


- posted by river @ 11:02 PM

 
Explosions...
The explosion two days ago was a colossal one. Our area isn't very close to the area that got bombed, but we heard it loud and clear. It was one of several explosions during this last week… but it was the biggest. The moment it happened, E. and I started trying to guess where the noise was coming from. It has become a sort of morbid game.

Al-Jazeera almost instantly began covering the explosion and we found out that E. was right- it was in Karada (I get the direction wrong 90% of the time and E. chauvinistically assures me that a warped sense of direction is quite common to most females). A hotel in the middle of a residential area was bombed and the stories vary in a strange sort of way. People in the area claim they heard the hissing of a rocket and then an explosion. Others say that it was an instant explosion. One news network is claiming that 32 bodies have been taken out of the rubble… another mentioned 17 and the Iraqi police are saying that only 6 were found. Reports on the nationalities of the deceased also vary- the Iraqi police are claiming all the residents of the hotel were Iraqi and the Americans are saying that there were some Americans and Brits among the dead. Who to believe?

Last Saturday and Sunday there were demonstrations in Baghdad. Students weren't allowed into Baghdad University because the university guards (ironically appointed by the Americans) wouldn't let anyone in. They are part of Sistani's gang and since Sistani's followers have diligently been objecting the TAL document signed by the Puppet Council, the guards decided that college would be closed for a couple of days. The students had to watch the dean of the engineering college beg to be let in, and refused.

I found out about the demonstrations because I was supposed to have a job interview on Saturday and my potential employers called me postponing it until further notice because their guards- avid Sistani fans- had decided to take the day off to join the demonstration objecting the TAL. Sistani's followers would not be out protesting the transitional law document if they didn't have explicit directions from him- so

Mustansiryia University (another major university in Baghdad) is full of student protests because the dean of the college of science requested that after the arba'een (40th day after the death of Imam Al-Hussein), the students take down the black flags and pictures of Al-Sadr and Sistani. The more conservative Shi'a students immediately took offence and decided that they wouldn't attend classes until the dean was fired. In retaliation, Sunni students decided they would organize a *protest* to the strike organized by the Shi'a students…

We also heard that one of the assistant deans of the college of engineering in Baghdad University was assassinated recently. It's terrible news and the subject has been on my mind a lot lately. I don't know why no one focuses on this topic in the news. It's like Iraq is suffering from intellectual hemorrhaging. Professors and scientists are being assassinated right and left- decent intelligent people who are necessary for the future of Iraq. Other scientists are being detained by the Americans and questioned about- of all things- Al-Qaeda.

The stories they tell after being let go are incredible. Most of the scientists are college professors and have dedicated their lives to teaching and research. Many are detained only because they specialize in a certain field, like heredity, for example. One man who was recently let go told about the ridiculous interrogation that lasted 3 days and involved CIA and military police. They showed him picture after picture of his family, confiscated from the family home during a raid, and kept pointing at his two teenage sons and their friends and asking, "Aren't they a part of Al-Qaeda?!"

And it doesn't stop with the scientists. Doctors are also being assassinated by some mysterious group. It started during the summer and has been continuing since then. Iraq has some of the finest doctors in the region. Since June, we've heard of at least 15 who were killed in cold blood. The stories are similar- a car pulls up to the clinic or office, a group of men in black step down and the doctor is gunned down- sometimes in front of the patients and sometimes all alone, after hours. One doctor was shot brutally in his house, in front of his family. There was a rumor that Badir's Brigade (the SCIRI militia led by Al-Hakeem) had a list out of 72 doctors that had to be killed for one reason or another. They include Sunni, Shi'a and Christian doctors.

Scientists, professors and doctors who aren't detained or assassinated all seem to be looking for a way out. It seems like everyone you talk to is keeping their eyes open for a job opportunity outside of the country. It depresses me. When I hear someone talking about how they intend to leave to Dubai or Lebanon or London, I want to beg them to stay… a part of me wants to scream, "But we need you here! You belong here!" Another more rational part of me knows that some of them have no options. Many have lost their jobs and don't know how to feed their families. Others just can't stand the constant worrying about their children or spouse. Many of the female doctors and scientists want to leave because it's no longer safe for women to work like before. For some, the option is becoming a housewife or leaving abroad to look for the security to work.

Whatever the reason, the brains are slowly seeping out of Iraq. It's no longer a place for learning or studying or working… it's a place for wealthy contractors looking to get wealthier, extremists, thieves (of all ranks and origins) and troops…


- posted by river @ 10:22 AM

 
Spring...
Discussions around the dinner table mainly focus on the Transitional Law these days. I asked a friend to print out the whole thing for me and have been looking it over these last two days. I watched only a part of the ceremony because the electricity went out in the middle of it and I didn't bother watching a recap of it later on.

The words look good on paper- as words often do. Some parts of it sound hauntingly like our last constitution. The discussions about the Transitional Law all focus on the legitimacy of this document. Basically, an occupying power brought in a group of exiles, declared Iraq 'liberated', declared the constitution we've been using since the monarchy annulled and set up a group of puppets as a Governing Council. Can these laws be considered legitimate?

Furthermore, just how sincere are these puppets about this new Transitional Law? For example, there's a lovely clause that reads, "No one may be unlawfully arrested or detained, and no one may be detained by reason of political or religious beliefs." Will the American troops discontinue the raids and arbitrary detentions (which are still quite common) come June 30? Or is the Transitional Law binding only to Iraqis?

One example of an arbitrary detention we heard about the other day was of a man who was arrested in Tikrit. They raided his home and gathered the 25-year-old man, two brothers and an elderly uncle. They got the usual treatment: a bag on the head, and hands behind their backs. They were taken to a place outside of Tikrit and thrown into a barn-like area with bags on their heads- still tied up. For 3 days, they were kicked and cursed by the troops. In between the kicking and cursing, a hefty soldier would scream questions at them and an interpreter would translate, "Are you part of Al-Qaeda?! Do you know Osama bin Laden?!" On the third day, one of the young men struck up a deal with who he gathered was their 'head'- the man who gave all the orders. They agreed that one of the soldiers would accompany the man back to the city and wait while he came up with $300/detainee. The rest of the men would be freed a couple of days later.

And it worked. Two days later, his three relatives came walking home after being dropped off on the side of the road. Basically, they paid a ransom for their freedom. Just one of the many stories about life in the 'New Iraq'- no wonder Chalabi was so jubilant while signing the Transitional Law document. The country is currently like an unguarded bank- especially for those who bear arms.

The general attitude towards the document is a certain weariness. Iraqis are weary of everything 'transitional' and 'temporary'. I guess, after almost a year of instability and strife, we just crave something more definite and substantial.

Spring is in the air- and that means dust storms and a mellow sun for Iraqis. We're enjoying the weather because by the end of April, summer will be in full swing and the heat will come in almost palpable waves. The mornings are slightly cool and by noon we've shed the jackets. We no longer need the 'sopas' or kerosene heaters at home- which is a relief to E. who has been designated the job of filling them up and making sure the kerosene tank in the yard is always full (the kerosene man has become a dear friend).

These last few days have brought back memories of the same dates, last year. What were we doing in early March? We were preparing for the war… digging wells, taping up windows, stocking up on candles, matches, kerosene, rice, flour, bandages, and medicine… and what are we doing now? Using them.


- posted by river @ 11:02 PM

 
Sistani and the Green Zone...
Today was a mess. It feels like half of Baghdad was off-limits. We were trying to get from one end to the other to visit a relative and my cousin kept having to take an alternate route. There's a huge section cut off to accomodate the "Green Zone" which seems to be expanding. We joke sometimes saying that they're just going to put a huge wall around Baghdad, kick out the inhabitants and call it the "Green City". It is incredibly annoying to know that parts of your city are inaccessible in order to accomodate an occupation army.

Another section was cut off because there was some sort of crisis unfolding in or around the Ministry of Health. We later learned that former employees- some fired before the war and others fired during the occupation- had invaded the ministry and were trying to break into the minister's office. They were demanding work and some channels even mentioned a hostage situation. All we know is that there was a huge, angry mob outside of the ministry and tanks, cars and angry soldiers facing them. They say almost 1,300 employees working with the Ministry of Health have been fired since the end of the war. This includes doctors, nurses, hospital guards, etc.

Today the Iraqi Puppet Council was attempting to sign the Basic Law document which is sort of a prelude to a permanent constitution. I want to read it and see what it's about. They had everything set up in an elegant conference room- chrome and gray chairs with name tags on them, expensive pens ready for the GC members, a podium, a bunch of little kids ready to sing and a little orchestra to play music. They didn't sign the long-awaited document. Some of the Shi'a members of the council refused to sign it because, apparently, there had been disagreements to the presidency, women's rights, federalism and, generally, the constitution- should they ever decide to draft one.

Al-Sistani appears to be running the show, along with Bremer. I don't know why they don't just set up an office for him in the Green Zone- it would make things much easier for the GC members. They wouldn't have to keep running down to Karbala to beg for his approval. It's unbelievable. Sistani is a respectable cleric. He has millions of followers both inside and outside of Iraq... but when you get down to it, he is Iranian. How is it that an Iranian cleric is moulding the future of Iraq?

His opinion is important in many ways- but he seems to have some sort of invisible veto within the Council. All he has to do is murmur disapproval in the ears of one of his followers and it is immediate dissent with his followers. It is so frustrating. How is Iraq going to be secular and, well, *Iraqi* if we have a cleric of Iranian origin making conditions and rules?!

You can read more about the constitutional mess over at Juan Cole and Back to Iraq.

- posted by river @ 11:53 PM

 
Ashoura Tragedy...
The explosions in Karbala and Kadhimiya were horrible. We heard the ones in Kadhimiya from a distance. There were a couple of dull thuds and we didn't know what it was. We found out later on the news and everyone has been horrified ever since. It's so hard to believe this has happened. The shots on Al-Arabia and the other channels were terrible- body parts everywhere- people burning alive... who could do this? We've all been asking each other that... who would have anything to gain from this?

Fingers are being pointed everywhere. Everyone has been afraid that this will be the metaphorical straw that breaks the camels back- except it's not a straw... it's more like an iron anchor that is just to heavy to carry. Fortunately, the reactions have been sane, yet sorrowful. Sunnis and Shi'a are sticking together... more now than ever before. It's like this catastrophe somehow made everyone realize that there are outside forces trying to drive us all apart and cause unrest or 'fitna'. People are refusing to believe that this was done by Iraqis. It's impossible. It's inexcusable and there is nothing that can justify it.

We were extremely worried because we have some relatives who make the annual trip to Karbala every year. They live in an area with no working telephones so E. and my cousin had to go over there and check things out for themselves. We found out that they had decided against going this year because the situation was so unstable. I'm worried now about Salam- he wrote on his blog that he was going to Karbala this year with his family. I hope he's ok.

I guess we've all been expecting some sort of attack or riots or something... this tragedy was still unexpected. You sometimes think that you've seen all the violence there is- every single type- and there is nothing that will shock you anymore. This was a shock, and a painful one too. Today was an official day of mourning over the victims who died in Karbala and Kadhimiya. The mosques have been offering prayers for the victims and the mosque sheikhs have been condemning the bombings.

Before Ashoura, there was a lot of talk about civil war. We talk about it like it concerns a different set of people, in another country. I guess that is because none of us can believe that anyone we know could be capable of senseless violence. After this massacre, and after seeing the reactions of Sunnis and Shi'a alike, my faith in the sense and strength of Iraqis has been reaffirmed. It has been like a large family- with many serious differences- reuniting after a terrible tragedy to comfort eachother and support one another.

- posted by river @ 10:10 PM

 
Ashoura...
The tension in the air is almost electric. Everyone feels it. It is the beginning of the Islamic year or Muharam, the first month of the Hijri year. This time of the Hijri year is important because of certain historical events that occurred hundreds of years ago. The Prophet Mohammed's remaining family were killed, and some captured, in Karbala, in south-east Iraq. It's a long, sad and involved story.

The Prophet Mohammed's grandchildren, their children, wives and entourage all came to Iraq because they were encouraged by the people in the region to receive the leadership of the Islamic nation, or Khilafah. Before they could get to Karbala- more near the area of Kouffa- they were surrounded by Yazeed's army. Yazeed was a distant relative of the Prophet and wanted to become the Khalifa- or leader of the Islamic world. Yazeed was also believed he had a right to be the Khalifah because his father, Ma'awiya, had claimed his right as Khalifah in opposition to the Imam Ali- the Prophet's cousin and also his son-in-law.

The Khilafah (or caliph-hood) was not hereditary. The Prophet Mohammed, upon his deathbed, ordered that the Khilafah would always be through general agreement of the 'Sahhaba' who were a group of select respected, devout and influential people in Mecca. Three Khalifas after the Prophet's death, when the third Khalifah Othman bin Affan was killed, the problems began.

Anyway, after the Prophet's family were trapped in Kouffa, they were systematically killed and some taken as prisoner during the first ten days of Muharam. On the tenth day, Imam Al-Hussein, the Prophet's grandson was killed in the most gruesome way during a battle in Kouffa. He was beheaded and his head was taken to Yazeed.

The people of Kouffa and Karbala have always felt guilty for not helping Al-Hussein and his family and followers- for sending for them and then abandoning them when Yazeed's army attacked. This guilt is 'remembered' every year by doing certain things- like cooking huge pots of steaming porridge for the poor and making special foods for neighbors and family. Sunnis and Shi'a alike do this, usually. My mother makes 'harrisa', the porridge, for the whole family every year- it's the best part of Muharam.

Sometimes people have a 'qirraya' at their house. This is often a women's affair. Women from all over the neighborhood gather at one of the houses and they send for a specialized group of women who sort of sing out the story of the 'Maqtal' or the killing of Imam Al-Hussein and his family. I attended one of these qirrayas a few years ago and it was emotional and charged. The qirrayas often end in tears because the story of the 'Maqtal' is so terrible, that it is difficult to stay dry-eyed when hearing about it.

This year, another ritual has been added to the ones mentioned above- the 'Latmiya'. This is done strictly by Shi'a- and not all Shi'a. Many moderate Shi'a frown upon the process of beating oneself with chains because the sight of it is just so… terrible. E. and I watched from the rooftop a couple of days ago as a procession of about 50 black-clad men passed down the main road. It was frightening. They had beards, wore head-to-toe black, with the exception of a green bandanna or piece of cloth tied around the wrist and they held up green and black flags and banners and pictures of Imam Al-Hussein on a green background. They were beating their chests to a certain beat and chanting something incoherent. These processions were banned before and, quite frankly, I wish they could be confined to certain areas now. The sight of so much violence (even if it is towards oneself) is just a little bit unnerving.

On tv, we saw much bigger Latmiyas in the south- especially Karbala where Imam Al-Hussein is buried. The men hold chains and beat their backs with them, sometimes to the point where their clothes tear and their bodies are bloodied. I don't like the ritual. It doesn't feel sacred or religious and many Muslims consider it a wrong, since it is considered 'haram', or a sin, to disfigure the body. This year, Karbala is going to be especially crowded because, in addition to Iraqis, there are going to be thousands and thousands of Iranians who have somehow gotten into Iraq.

Ashoura, or the tenth day of Muharam, is in a couple of days and everyone is really worried about what might happen on this day. Dozens of buildings all over Baghdad are shrouded in black cloth. It is a depressing and sobering sight. E. was in Baghdad University a few days ago and he says that someone draped black cloth all over the buildings there and even over the department balconies. There were even signs offering 'Latmiya' lessons and some of the more religiously bent Shi'a have given orders to the department cafeterias that there will be no music allowed and the only stuff they can play are taped 'qirrayas'.

The electrical situation is almost stable at around 10 hours of electricity a day at this point. Everything is a little bit frightening right now and I can't help but wish we could remain without electricity during the day and have it as soon as it gets dark. There have been a string of assassinations these last couple of weeks and some of them are just inexplicable… doctors, teachers, professors, religious figures… Baghdad is quite depressing and all this black cloth isn't helping any.

- posted by river @ 2:19 AM

 
Angry Arabs and American Media...
We were all watching Al-Itijah Al-Mu'akis or "The Opposite Direction" on Al-Jazeera. It was pretty good today. We had just cleared the dinner table and were settling down to watch some film when E. turned the channel to Al-Jazeera expecting a news brief. I instantly recognized the man in the lemon yellow shirt with his longish curly hair pulled back in a ponytail- Asa'ad Abu Khalil. I remembered him from an interview he did on Al-Arabiya or Al-Jazeera- I can't remember which- immediately after the war, slamming Radio Sawa. Tonight, "The Opposite Direction" was hosting Asa'ad Abu Khalil, better known as The Angry Arab, and Ibraheim Al-Ariss, a writer for Al-Hayat newspaper which is based in Lebanon but is funded by some rich Saudi.

The subject was American propaganda in Arab media. Asa'ad Abu Khalil was brilliant. He discussed the effects of American propaganda on current Arab media and the way the current American government was pressuring certain Arab publications and networks into a pro-America stance. Unfortunately, his argument was way above Al-Ariss's head. Al-Ariss apparently thinks that pro-American propaganda is nothing less than a front-page headline saying, "WE LOVE AMERICA!!!"

Asa'ad Abu Khalil was discussing the more subtle changes taking place in some newspapers- the change in terminology, the fact that some newspapers have stopped covering the news and taken to translating articles directly from New York Times or some other American news outlet. He almost gave Ibraheim Al-Iriss, a reddish, portly man, an apoplectic fit. Poor Ibraheim fell short of pounding the table with his fists and throwing crumpled papers at Abu Khalil, who kept admirably cool. In other words, Asa'ad Abu Khalil ibarid il gallub.

(Iraqi phrase alert: ibarid il gallub, translated to 'cools the heart' is basically used to refer to something or someone who eases the mind- and heart- by saying or doing something satisfactory)

I get really tired of the emails deriding Al-Jazeera and Al-Arabiya for their news coverage, telling me they're too biased towards Arabs, etc. Why is it ok for CNN to be completely biased towards Americans and BBC to be biased towards the British but Al-Jazeera and Al-Arabiya have to objective and unprejudiced and, preferably, pander to American public opinion? They are Arab news networks- they SHOULD be biased towards Arabs. I agree that there is quite a bit of anti-America propaganda in some Arabic media, but there is an equal, if not more potent, amount of anti-Arab, anti-Muslim propaganda in American media. The annoying thing is that your average Arab knows much more about American culture and history than the average American knows about Arabs and Islam.

I wish everyone could see Al-Hurra- the new 'unbiased' news network started by the Pentagon and currently being broadcast all over the Arab world. It is the visual equivalent of Sawa- the American radio station which was previously the Voice of America. The news and reports are so completely biased, they only lack George Bush and Condi Rice as anchors. We watch the reports and news briefs and snicker… it is far from subtle. Interestingly enough, Asa'ad Abu Khalil said that Sawa and Al-Hurra are banned inside of America due to some sort of law that doesn't allow the broadcast of blatant political propaganda or something to that effect. I'd love to know more about that.

A channel like Al-Hurra may be able to convince Egyptians, for example, that everything is going great inside of Iraq, but how are you supposed to convince Iraqis of that? Just because they broadcast it hourly, it doesn't make it true. I sometimes wonder how Americans would feel if the Saudi government, for example, suddenly decided to start broadcasting an English channel with Islamic propaganda to Americans.

Important note to those of you who are going to email me: The last few days, I have received at least 3 emails saying, "I read your blog and don't agree with what you say but we have a famous saying in America- I don't agree with what you say but I'll die for your right to say it." Just a note- it's not your famous American saying, it is French and it is Voltaire's famous saying:"I do not agree with a word you say, but I will fight to the death for your right to say it."



- posted by river @ 1:23 AM

 
Dumb and Dumber...
Ok, I just read this article in the New York Times and I had to share. Actually, someone sent it to me and they seem highly satisfied with it. The title is: Arabs in U.S. Raising Money to Back Bush and it is written by a Leslie Wayne who, apparently, knows very little about geography. I just love when articles like this find their way into the New York Times.

The article basically states that a substantial sum of the money supporting Bush's presidential campaign is coming from affluent Arab-Americans who support the war on Iraq. The fun part about the article is that it goes on and on about "Arab"-Americans- not Muslim-Americans or even Asian-Americans but specifies Arab-Americans giving you the impression that the article is going to be about people who were originally from Iraq, Saudi Arabia, Syria, Egypt, Libya, Yemen, the United Arab Emirates, Bahrain, Oman, Qatar, Tunisia, Morocco, Palestine, Lebanon… you know- an Arab country where the national language is Arabic and the people are generally known as Arabs.

The article is dumb, but apparently the author thinks that the readers are even dumber. Of the 5 prominent "Arabs" the author gives as examples in the article (supporters of Bush), two are Iranian and the third is a Pakistani! Now this is highly amusing to an Arab because Pakistanis aren't Arabs and while Iran is our neighbor, Iranians are, generally speaking, not Arabs and I'm sure you can confirm that with Iranian bloggers…

One of the Iranian contributors is a Mr. Mori Hosseini who claims to know all about the region because he was born in Iran and lived there before moving to the US at the tender, prepubescent age of 13. He must be Iran's Chalabi- keep an eye on him. I predict he'll either be given contracts to build homes in Iraq or suddenly have important information on Iranian WMD he has been hiding since the age of 13.

I just wish all those prominent Arabs who supported the war- you know, the ones living in Washington and London who attend State dinners and parties at the White House holding silk handkerchiefs in one hand (to wipe away the tears for the 'homeland') and cocktails in the other hand- would pack their Louis Vuitton bags, and bring all that money they are contributing to that war-hungry imbecile in the White House to Iraq or Iran or wherever they wish the spread of democracy and help 'reconstruct' and 'develop' their own countries. One wonders with that $200,000 how many homes Mr.Hosseini could have rebuilt in Bam, for example… but then again, if they don't bomb Iran into the pre-industrial era, how will Mr.Hosseini get all those huge contracts in the future?


- posted by river @ 1:08 AM

 
Dedicated to the Memory of L.A.S.
So Happy Valentine's Day… although it's the 15th. It still feels like the 14th here because I'm not asleep… it's the extension of yesterday.

Do you know what yesterday marked? It marked the 13th anniversary of the Amiriyah Shelter massacre- February 13, 1991. Can you really call it an 'anniversary'? Anniversary brings to mind such happy things and yet is there any other word? Please send it along if you know it.

February 12, 1991, marked one of the days of the small Eid or 'Eid Al-Fitr'. Of course it also marked one of the heaviest days of bombing during the Gulf War. No one was in the mood for celebration. Most families remained at home because there wasn't even gasoline to travel from one area to the next. The more fortunate areas had bomb shelters and people from all over the neighborhood would get together inside of the shelter during the bombing. That year, they also got together inside of the shelters to celebrate Eid Al-Fitr with their neighbors and friends.

Iraqis don't go to shelters for safety reasons so much as for social reasons. It's a great place to be during a bombing. There's water, electricity and a feeling of serenity and safety that is provided as much by the solid structure as by the congregation of smiling friends and family. Being with a large group of people helps make things easier during war- it's like courage and stamina travel from one person to the next and increase exponentially with the number of people collected.

So the families in the Amiriyah area decided they'd join up in the shelter to have a nice Eid dinner and then the men and boys over the age of 15 would leave to give the women and children some privacy. Little did they know, leaving them behind, that it would be the last time they would see the wife/daughter/son/fiancé/sister/infant…

I can imagine the scene after the men left at around midnight- women sat around, pouring out steaming istikans of tea, passing out Eid kilaycha and chocolate. Kids would run around the shelter shrieking and laughing like they owned the huge playground under the earth. Teenage girls would sit around gossiping about guys or clothes or music or the latest rumor about Sara or Lina or Fatima. The smells would mingle- tea, baked goods, rice… comfortable smells that made one imagine, for a few seconds, that they were actually at home.

The sirens would begin shrieking- the women and children would pause in the midst of eating or scolding, say a brief prayer in their heart and worry about their loved ones above the ground- the men who refused to remain inside of the shelter in order to make room for their wives and kids.

The bombs fell hard and fast at around 4 a.m. The first smart bomb went through the ventilation, through the first floor of the shelter- leaving a gaping hole- and to the bottom 'basement' of the shelter where there were water tanks and propane tanks for heating water and food. The second missile came immediately after and finished off what the first missile missed. The doors of the advanced shelter immediately shut automatically- locking over 400 women and children inside.

It turned from a shelter into an inferno; explosions and fire rose from the lower level up to the level that held the women and children and the water rose with it, boiling and simmering. Those who did not burn to death immediately or die of the impact of the explosions, boiled to death or were steamed in the 900+ º F heat.

We woke in the morning to see the horrors on the news. We watched as the Iraqi rescue workers walked inside of the shelter and came out crying and screaming- dragging out bodies so charred, they didn't look human. We saw the people in the area- men, women and children- clinging to the fence surrounding the shelter and screaming with terror; calling out name after name… searching for a familiar face in the middle of the horror.

The bodies were laid out one beside the other- all the same size- shrunk with heat and charred beyond recognition. Some were in the fetal position, curled up, as if trying to escape within themselves. Others were stretched out and rigid, like the victims were trying to reach out a hand to save a loved one or reach for safety. Most remained unrecognizable to their families- only the size and fragments of clothing or jewelry indicating the gender and the general age.

Amiriyah itself is an area full of school teachers, college professors, doctors and ordinary employees- a middle-class neighborhood with low houses, friendly people and a growing mercantile population. It was a mélange of Sunnis and Shi'a and Christians- all living together peacefully and happily. After the 13th of February, it became the area everyone avoided. For weeks and weeks the whole area stank of charred flesh and the air was thick and gray with ash. The beige stucco houses were suddenly all covered with black pieces of cloth scrolled with the names of dead loved ones. "Ali Jabbar mourns the loss of his wife, daughter, and two sons…"; "Muna Rahim mourns the loss of her mother, sisters, brothers and son…"

Within days, the streets were shut with black cloth tents set up by the grief-stricken families to receive mourners from all over Iraq who came to weep and ease some of the shock and horror. And it was horrible. Everyone lost someone- or knew someone who lost several people.

My first visit to the shelter came several years after it was bombed. We were in the neighborhood visiting a friend of my mother. She was a retired schoolteacher who quit after the Amiriyah bombing. She had no thoughts of quitting but after schools resumed in April of 1991, she went on the first day to greet her class of 2nd graders. She walked into the classroom and found only 11 of her 23 students. "I thought they had decided not to come…" I remember her saying to my mother in hushed tones, later that year,"… but when I took attendance, they told me the rest of the children had died in the shelter…" She quit soon after that because she claimed her heart had broken that day and she couldn't look at the children anymore without remembering the tragedy.

I decided to pay my respects to the shelter and the victims. It was October and I asked the retired teacher if the shelter was open (hoping in my heart of hearts she'd say 'no'). She nodded her head and said that it was indeed open- it was always open. I walked the two short blocks to the shelter and found it in the midst of houses- the only separation being a wide street. There were children playing in the street and we stopped one of them who was kicking around a ball. Is there anyone in the shelter? He nodded his head solemnly- yes the shelter was 'maskoon'.

Now the word 'maskoon' can mean two different things in Arabic. It can mean 'lived in' and it can also mean 'haunted'. My imagination immediately carried me away- could the child mean haunted? I'm not one who believes in ghosts and monsters- the worst monsters are people and if you survive war and bombs, ghosts are a piece of cake… yet something inside of me knew that a place where 400 people had lost their lives so terribly- almost simultaneously- had to be 'haunted' somehow by their souls…

We walked inside and the place was dark and cold, even for the warm October weather. The only light filtering in came from the gaping hole in the roof of the shelter where the American missiles had fallen. I wanted to hold my breath- expecting to smell something I didn't want to… but you can only do that for so long. The air didn't smell stale at all; it simply smelled sad- like the winds that passed through this place were sorrowful winds. The far corners of the shelter were so dark, it was almost easy to imagine real people crouching in them.

The walls were covered with pictures. Hundreds of pictures of smiling women and children- toothy grins, large, gazelle eyes and the gummy smiles of babies. Face after face after face stared back at us from the dull gray walls and it felt endless and hopeless. I wondered what had happened to their families, or rather their remaining families after the catastrophe. We knew one man who had lost his mind after losing his wife and children inside of the shelter. I wondered how many others had met the same fate… and I wondered how much life was worth after you lost the people most precious to you.

At the far end of the shelter we heard voices. I strained my ears to listen and we searched them out- there were 4 or 5 Japanese tourists and a small, slight woman who was speaking haltingly in English. She was trying to explain how the bomb had fallen and how the people had died. She used elaborate hand gestures and the Japanese tourists nodded their heads, clicked away with their cameras and clucked sympathetically.

"Who is she?" I whispered to my mother's friend.
"She takes care of the place…" she replied in a low voice.
"Why don't they bring in someone who can speak fluently- this is frustrating to see…" I whispered back, watching the Japanese men shake hands with the woman before turning to go.

My mother's friend shook her head sadly, "They tried, but she just refuses to leave. She has been taking care of the place since the rescue teams finished cleaning it out… she lost 8 of her children here." I was horrified with that fact as the woman approached us. Her face was stern, yet gentle- like that of a school principal or… like that of a mother of 8 children. She shook hands with us and took us around to see the shelter. This is where we were. This is where the missiles came in… this is where the water rose up to… this is where the people stuck to the walls.

Her voice was strong and solid in Arabic. We didn't know what to answer. She continued to tell us how she had been in the shelter with 8 of her 9 children and how she had left minutes before the missiles hit to get some food and a change of clothes for one of the toddlers. She was in the house when the missiles struck and her first thoughts were, "Thank God the kids are in the shelter…" When she ran back to the shelter from her house across the street, she found it had been struck and the horror had begun. She had watched the corpses dragged out for days and days and refused to believe they were all gone for months after. She hadn't left the shelter since- it had become her home.

She pointed to the vague ghosts of bodies stuck to the concrete on the walls and ground and the worst one to look at was that of a mother, holding a child to her breast, like she was trying to protect it or save it. "That should have been me…" the woman who lost her children said and we didn't know what to answer.

It was then that I knew that the place was indeed 'maskoon' or haunted… since February 13, 1991 it has been haunted by the living who were cursed with their own survival.

Important Side Note:For those of you with the audacity to write to me claiming it was a legitimate target because "American officials assumed it was for military purposes" just remember Protocol 1 of the 1977 Geneva Conventions, Part IV, Section 1, Chapter III, Article 52: ... 3. In case of doubt whether an object which is normally dedicated to civilian purposes, such as a place of worship, a house or other dwelling or a school, is being used to make an effective contribution to military action, it shall be presumed not to be so used. (Like that would matter to you anyway)


- posted by river @ 4:15 AM

 
Family Crisis...
I haven't been blogging for several reasons. The main reason is that since the fourth day of Eid of we've been coping with a family crisis.

Eid started out normal enough, under the circumstances. The first day consisted of explosions, and a few family members and neighbors, interspersed with bouts electricity. We spent the first two days at home, so thoroughly exhausted with Eid preparations, we didn't enjoy Eid itself very much.

On the fourth day of Eid, one of my uncles absolutely insisted on a family reunion of sorts at his house. His wife had been slaving over the stove all day and anyone who couldn't come had better have a good excuse.

And so we went. We packed ourselves off to his house, across Baghdad, at 4 p.m. and he promised dinner would be served promptly at 7 (which is an obscene hour to eat dinner for Iraqis, but everyone wanted to be home early). The house was crowded with uncles and aunts, grandparents, nieces, nephews, and shrieking children (two of whom I didn't recognize).

Dinner was served at seven. It consisted of 'timen ala quzi' or rice and lamb garnished with sultanas, almonds and all sorts of spices, a Lebanese salad, chicken soup and two different kinds of bread. For a brief 30 minutes, we forgot politics and occupation and sat concentrating on the steaming array of food piled before us. Even the children calmed down enough to enjoy the feast. The local generator was humming in the background and we sat enjoying the food and light and feeling that it really was Eid. After all, we were family and gathered together… what could be more Eid-like than that?

After sweet tea and fresh fruit, the family began to disperse. At nine, we sat around with my uncle, his wife, my cousin and her husband and her husband's parents. The children had fallen into a sort of lethargic stupor in front of the television, watching a children's song in Arabic with a bunch of crazy rabbits bouncing about on the screen.

The elders soon began the usual discussion- politics. Politics in Iraq isn't discussed like in any other place. You see, we don't sit around with lit cigars and cups of tea debating this politician or that one- that's much too tame and boring. That is left for Brits in wood-paneled studies, surrounded by leather-bound books. No. We have to do it the Iraqi way- mobile expressions, erratic hand signals, and an occasional table- pounding to emphasize a particularly salient point.

The younger generation (E., a couple of cousins, and I) instantly backed out of the conversation. Old/new names were suddenly being dragged into the limelight of the dispute and I, personally, was lost at the Iraqi monarchy. They left me behind during the '50s and I got up to help clear the tea cups which were beginning to rattle ominously as the conversation got more heated.

My uncle and his daughter's father-in-law were soon deep into an argument over some conspiracy dealing with the monarchy. I saw a smile hovering on the lips of my cousin as her father-in-law began to light the wrong end of the cigarette. She winked covertly at her husband and he gracefully rose with the words, "Well, dad- should we drop you and mom off at home? It's getting late and I don't want to have to drive back alone… L., the children and I are spending the night here tonight."

And they were off in a matter of minutes. The argument was soon forgotten, adults bundled in coats and cigarettes properly lit. My cousin's husband, A., hustled his parents outside and into his battered old Brazilian-made Volkswagen. We stayed behind to help clear up the mess- which was considerable. Rice was strewn everywhere, little fingers had made little marks up and down the walls, the tables and across the television screen. Ashtrays had to be emptied, cups washed and children undressed and put to bed.

By the time the initial mess was cleared, it was almost 10 pm. Where was A., my cousin's husband? He had left over an hour earlier and his parents' house was only 15 minutes away. My mother suggested that his parents had maybe insisted he step down for a cup of tea or something else to eat… my cousin, L., shook her head emphatically- he wouldn't do that because he knew she'd worry. His parents didn't have a working telephone and any delay simply meant additional worry. Her brow puckered and I suddenly felt queasy.

We went over the possibilities- perhaps the road to his parents' house was blocked and he had to take an alternate route? Maybe they needed to purchase something on the way home? There *must* be a logical, rational reason. A. was a logical, rational, and- above all- careful man. We were supposed to be on our way home by 10:30. In modern-day Iraq, you just don't stay out longer than that. We couldn't leave my uncle and his family in the mess they were in. We sat around longer.

My father and uncle couldn't take it anymore- they got into our car and went to A.'s parents' house to see what had happened- and drag A. home by his ear if necessary. L. was angry by then, convinced that A. was OK and that he was simply dallying around at his mother's house. I was dubious, but supported the theory because it seemed like the easiest one to accept.

We sat around quietly for 30 minutes while my father and uncle went to look for A. L. was furiously polishing the coffee table and I sat channel-surfing, trying to find something to take my mind off of the possibilities.

Half an hour later, the men came home- trying not to look grim and worried. A.'s parents were safe at home- had, in fact, been home for over an hour. A. dropped them off at the door, watched them walk inside, honked his horn twice and left. L. went paler than she normally is and sat down dully on the couch. She was suddenly sure he was dead. What could have happened? Where had he gone? Someone mentioned a flat tire but L.'s father said that they hadn't seen his car along the way…

And so we reviewed the possibilities. He had been detained by Americans. His car had been hijacked. He had been abducted. He had been killed. He had a car accident and his beat-up old vehicle was overturned in some ditch… the possibilities were endless and each one was worse than the one before.

Going home was no longer an option. We sat around in the living room with my uncle's family, watching the seconds creep by on the clock and willing A. to walk through the door. E. spent the night pacing the driveway and peering out into the dark, silent street. I joined him outdoors a couple of times and he confessed that he was very worried- any disappearance at this time of night couldn't be good.

We spent the night making conjectures and trying to find logical reasons for A.'s disappearance. In the end, we agreed that if he wasn't back by 10 a.m., we'd go to the police and the family would start a separate search.

At 8 a.m., I was putting the kettle on in preparation for morning tea. The house was silent but no one was asleep. No one had slept all night. E. was still pacing; my father and uncle were closed up in the living room, trying to decide on a course of action and L. was trying not to cry. Suddenly, just as I lit the stove, the phone rang. It never sounded so shrill. I ran to the living room and found that my uncle had already jumped to answer it and was barking, "Elloo?" L. ran into the room and stood wringing her hands nervously.

It was A.'s best friend and business partner, S. He had heard from A. just a few minutes before… he had been abducted and was being held for a ransom of $15,000. A. and S. are partners and share a small shop in a mercantile neighborhood in Baghdad. They sell everything from Korean electrical ovens to fluorescent light bulbs and make just enough money to support their respective families. We'd be given 3 days to get the money- a place would be agreed upon where we'd give them the money and they'd release A. later on.

We panicked. The whole house broke down. L. fell to the floor crying and shouting that they'll kill him- she just knew they'd kill him like they were killing others. We tried to calm her down and finally decided to give her a couple of valiums to ease the stress. We sat debating on what to do- go to the police? No way. In some areas, the police were actually working with abductors for a certain amount of money and there was nothing they were willing to do anyway.

We spent the rest of the day rushing to sell gold, collect money and my uncle took a broken L. to the bank to empty the account- they've been saving up to build or buy a house. A.'s parents were soon at my uncle's house and we had a difficult time breaking the news to them. His mother cried and wanted to rush home for her few pieces of gold and his father sat, stunned, chain-smoking and trying to make sense of the situation. S., A.'s friend, came over with money- looking harrowed and tired.

To make a long, terrible story short- we had the money by the middle of the next day. L. had almost lost her wits and the only way the rest of us stayed sane was with the hope that A. would soon be back at home, with us.

The money was handed over on the third day after his abduction. But no A. came back. They told my uncle and S., who had gone with him, that A. would be set free in the next couple of days. My uncle and S. came home almost in tears- like we had sent them on a mission and they had failed us.

I can't even begin to describe the next couple of days. If it was bad before- it suddenly became worse. We hear about abductions ALL THE TIME… but to actually experience it is something else. It's like having a part of you torn away. To think that A. might not come back was more horrible than anything we'd experienced so far. Watching his parents deteriorate from one minute to the next and knowing his wife was dying a little bit inside every hour that passed by was so nerve-wracking that I'd run outside every hour to breathe in some fresh air- not the stale stuff inside of the house contaminated with depression, frustration and fear.

On the fifth day after A.'s abduction, we were all sitting in the living room. There was no electricity and L. had fallen into a valium-induced sort of calm. We suddenly heard a feeble clang of the gate- like someone was knocking, but not very hard. E. jumped up, ran to the door and called out, "Who is it?!" A moment later he ran back- it was A… he had come home.

I won't describe the crying, screaming, shouting, jumping, hobbling (A. was limping) and general chaos that followed A.s entrance. Apparently, his abductors had been watching the house for the last couple of weeks. As soon as A. dropped off his parents, they had followed with two cars and forced him to the side of the road on a secluded street. Four armed men forced him out of the car, put a bag over his head after kicking him around and threw him into a minivan with some more men.

After several hours of abuse and interrogation about his assets (which they seemed to have thought much more than he actually had), they let him make a call to his business partner who was supposed to call his family for the money.

(And if you could have seen him the moment he described this- you'd know ALL about the tenacity of the Iraqi sense of humor- here was A., with a gash on his head, a bluish bruise on the side of his face, a back bruised with kicks and punches, feet bleeding after walking over one kilometer barefoot and he was cracking jokes: "They actually only wanted $5,000," he said at one point, "but I was outraged- told them I was worth ATLEAST $20,000 – five is just an insult to my personal worth… we agreed on $15,000 in the end…")

They had kept him in slum on the outskirts of Baghdad where police and troops don't dare set up camp. He was transferred from one hovel to the next and at each one he says there were abducted people. Some of the abductions were political- some religious and many were for the money. He says the worst part was not being able to see anything around him, but being able to hear the others being beaten… and anticipating another kick or punch from any random direction.

I saw him again yesterday and he still looks haggard and tired. L. says he can't sleep all night- he keeps waking in the middle of the night with a nightmare or some sort of hallucination- thinking he's still caught.

And so that's how we've been spending our last few days. It has been a nightmare and I've had to examine a lot. Everything has felt so trivial and ridiculous… the blog, the electrical situation, the insomnia, the 'reconstruction', the elections, the fictional WMD… politics and politicians… I've been wondering about all those families who can't pay the ransom or the ones whose sons and daughters come home on a stretcher instead of on foot or in a garbage bag, as we heard about one family… and I've also realized how grateful we should be just being able to make the transition from one day to the next in a situation like ours…


- posted by river @ 4:16 PM

 
A Whole Bunch of Links...
I have a lot of links to share.

There are several new Iraqi bloggers. The first blog to introduce is the Iraqi Agora- a group blog by Iraqis inside and outside of Iraq. It's basically a blog for Iraqis too lazy to begin their own blog. The truth is that 3 of the contributing bloggers (Salam, Liminal and I) have our own blogs. The guy calling himself 'Liminal' is a twenty-something Iraqi living in the US and you'll have to read his personal blog to learn more about him. Hurria is an Iraqi woman who has lived abroad for a long time and has some fantastic opinions about... everything. Torshe is another Iraqi abroad and is new to blogging but you won't want to miss him either. You'll have to be patient with the group blog because we're still getting it on its feet (and Liminal is doing most of the work). I have two other contributors inside of Iraq interested in blogging on it.

Another Iraqi blog is Iraqi's Iraqi Spirit by an Iraqi network engineer in his 30s and he warns you that his blog is not meant to be politically correct.

For those of you who want Iraqi music, check it out at this site: www.iraqimusic.com. It has some fantastic classics as well as some of the more modern songs, available as downloadable MP3 files.

This link came from B. from North Ireland and it's a link to a site he *insisted* I check out. Physicians for Human Rights. They have a special page devoted to Iraq and have apparently done some extensive work in the region. Check out what they have to say about cluster bombs.

- posted by river @ 2:39 AM

 
The Big Eid...
We've been cleaning again these last few days. The 'Big Eid' or "Eid Al Kabeer" or "Al Eid Al Adh'ha" is on Sunday and everyone has been hectically taking down curtains for washing, polishing furniture and rearranging sock drawers.

The 'Big Eid' is known as the big one because it lasts a day longer than the other Eid, "Eid Al Futtur". During the Big Eid, Muslims from all over the world go to Mecca in Saudi Arabia and visit 'Bayt Allah' or 'God's House' which was built by the Prophet Abraham. Visiting Mecca is one of the five pillars of Islam which include fasting, 'shahada' or bearing witness to God and the Prophet, prayer, visiting Mecca (at least once during the lifetime), and 'Zekat' or charity.

After visiting Mecca and taking part in certain Islamic rituals, a man becomes a 'Hajji' or 'one who has done the Haj' and a woman becomes a 'Hijjiya'. That is why it is quite common to see people in Muslim countries calling an elder 'Hajji' or 'Hijjiya'. It is assumed that by the time a man or woman reaches a certain age, they have gone to visit Mecca and gained the prestigious and respectful title of Hajji or Hijjiya.

The whole Islamic world celebrates this occasion. In Iraq, the festivities include visiting family and friends, lots of good food and money handed out to the younger kids in the family to spend on candy and other things that will ruin the teeth and complexion.

Like the "Eid Al Fittur", the house has to be very, very clean. For those of you who don't know her, I blogged about the Martha Stewart of Baghdad a few months ago. She has been emotionally terrorizing the area for the last few days by making daily appearances in her garden and in front of her house, washing down windows, wringing out clothes and keeping a hawkish eye on the front doors of all the neighbors.

Yesterday, our street which normally rings with the cries of children playing street football was eerily silent. I stood at our gate, pondering the sudden disappearance of half a dozen rowdy boys. I caught one of our 9-year-old neighbors dodging from his house to the one across the street. He scampered in what I imagine he must have thought a stealthy fashion… he actually looked like a lizard escaping the scorching sun.

"Haydar!" I called out to him before he had a chance to close the gate behind him. He halted in mid-scurry and turned around. His little shoulders sagged with relief as soon as he saw it was me. I waved him over and he rushed towards me with an expression of consternation, looking over his shoulder.

"What are you hiding from?" I asked sternly. It seemed a more diplomatic question than the one that really flashed in my mind: what have you done?

He pushed up the big glasses he wore and pointed to the dreaded house across the street. "I'm hiding from Umm Maha!" Ahhh, I nodded my head sagely and he rushed on, "Yesterday, she made Mahmud pick up allllllllllllll the litter up and down the street… and today she wanted me to sweep the sidewalks of all the houses…"

"Well, just tell her that you won't." I said, not believing I was actually promoting anarchy. He shook his head emphatically as he slipped off the glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, "I can't do that… I can't. She scares me and…" His voice slipped to a whisper, "… she told Mahmud to take a bath yesterday because she says he smelled like sheep… she scares me." I secretly agreed with him because, well, she terrifies me a little bit too.

"So is that why you're all hiding?" I was referring to the little mob we had running our street. On their good days, they would play gently, as little boys tend to do- pushing, shoving, scraping knees and elbows and stubbing toes. On their bad days, they'd end up blocking the road from both ends with broken bricks and tin cans of sand (to represent goal posts) and fighting at the top of shrill voices as to who would get to be Ronaldo or Beckham.

I sympathized with him and he looked up at me for some sort of solution. "Well, next time she catches you, just tell her you're running some errands for me." I offered helpfully. He was dubious, but he silently accepted and I allowed him to scurry back across the street.

This morning, I went out to the roof to hang some clothes that had been washed. I saw Umm Maha on her own roof, across the street. She wasn't hanging clothes, she was hanging out some relatively large rugs that she had washed- by hand of course- just that morning. I balked- no one cleans their rugs until the summer or immediately before putting them away in late spring. You just didn't do that. First, there was every chance it would rain on them and second, you'd just have to clean them AGAIN before putting them away.

I waved at Umm Maha just as she looked up from her task and she smiled and waved back. "I hope it rains…" I muttered and shook out the shirt I had in my hands, knowing that somehow it wouldn't. It didn't dare rain on Umm Maha's rugs.

Other than the cleaning, nothing feels festive. It's just normal- electrical outages, explosions and helicopters. Students now have their mid-year holiday and sometimes you can see them in the street although everyone is at home by 7 or 8 pm, which is a contrast to the past when the fun didn't start until 7 or 8 pm. Anyone who can is spending the holiday in either Syria or Jordan. It's hard to believe that those two countries have become havens to Iraqis… Baghdad was always the place everyone wanted to be.



- posted by river @ 2:16 AM

 
The Insomniac...
It's 4 a.m. as I write this and will probably be 5 a.m. before I post it. Salam was commenting the other day on my weird blogging hour (it was around 5:30 a.m.). I've been an insomniac since before the war. My sleeping hours are strange and disconnected- rather like a cat. During the war it was almost impossible to sleep. The nights were full of bombing. We'd stay up, huddled together in a room, listening to the planes and explosions, sometimes venturing outside to search the horizon for signs of burning.

After the war, the looting and pillaging kept everyone up. We'd take turns staying up and listening for prowlers or break-ins. My job was always to make the tea. Guns make me very nervous and I'd stand brewing the tea and eying the gun over the cupboard warily. We'd sit, listening to the radio, the sky… waiting for the creak of the gate that would send everyone into a flurry of action- grab the guns, gather the family.

Now, sleep doesn't come very easily. I toss and turn in bed as one thought crowds out the other. And thoughts are like chickens- once one of them starts squawking, the whole bunch of them join in. I've tried every single technique- counting sheep, reciting the periodic table, counting down from 100… none of it works. I end up more alert than ever.

It's often the anxiety that keeps one awake, although we've learned to live with it. There are moments when I'm busy doing something that needs concentration when I can sort of forget about the past and the future and concentrate on the very immediate present. There are other moments when I'll be watching something on tv- a movie or song- and I'll lose myself in the story… but as soon as the commercials begin, so the nagging feeling returns. After a while, the prickly feeling of anxiousness dulls and turns blunt. Have you ever left the house and worried that you didn't turn off the oven or the iron? That's what the feeling turns into- except it lasts all day… and night… and week… and month, after month, after month until you don't notice it except at night.

Sometimes, sleep just seems like a waste of time and electricity. For example, the day before yesterday, our area had no electricity almost the whole day. Friday is our 'laundry day' so it was doubly frustrating. We stood around looking at the pile of clothes that needed washing. My mother deliberated washing them by hand but I convinced her it would be a bad idea- the water was cold, the weather was miserable and the clothes wouldn't even feel clean. We waited all day for the electricity and once or twice, it flashed on for all of 20 minutes. Finally, at 12 p.m., my mother stated, "Tomorrow, if there's no electricity, we'll wash them by hand. That's that."

I crawled into bed at 1 a.m., tired with waiting and actually looking forward to maybe sleeping… and it began- first the procession of sheep, then the elements… and just as I found my eyelids getting heavy, I felt it- the electricity was on. I could hear the distant whir of the refrigerator as it adjusted itself to the current. I groped on my bedside table and found my clock, brought it close to my face and peered into the very heart of it- 2 a.m.

Two voices began chattering in my head- the one that was counting sheep was slurred and drowsy… it said, "Go to sleep. You need some sleep- who cares about the electricity?" The other voice, alert and anxious, cried out, "Are you serious?! Think of the possibilities- the computer, the television, the washer…!!" The sleepy voice groaned and cursed as I hauled myself out of bed and into the corridor, fumbling for the light switch. I finally found the light and, after several hours of dark, it assaulted me.

I squinted around for a couple of minutes and listened to the silence… except it was no longer silent. E. had beat me to the television and was switching from channel to channel, trying to find something interesting and my mother had already made her way downstairs to load up the washer. The house was alive.

E. was watching a Lebanese 'reality tv' show where around 20 young people were gathered to train to become singers and dancers. It focused on their daily routine of… singing and dancing. E. scoffed, "That's not reality… are we even living in the same universe?!" No. It's not reality… reality is the washer, clanging away at 2:30 a.m. because you don't know when there'll be electricity again… and imaginary sheep that mock you in the dark, night after night.


- posted by river @ 4:59 AM

 
Still Brooding...
My head has been spinning these last few days with decision No. 173 on changing Family Law to Shari'a. I've been darkly mulling over the endless possibilities. I'm not the only one- everyone I talk to is shaking their head in dismay. How is this happening? How are we caving in to fundamentalism?

Talabani was saying that the decision wasn't taken or passed because it didn't get enough votes by the GC, but all the signs say that the decision was made and might be implemented as soon as they get Bremer's signature. Nisreen Barwari, the only female minister on the cabinet, was out demonstrating with several of the women's rights parties a few days ago against the decision. Christopher Allbritton over at Back to Iraq 3.0 has written something on the subject and so has the Washington Post.

The question is, even if the personal status laws aren't going to be subjected to change now- immediately- what about the future? What does that say about 6 months from now when Bremer's signature isn't necessary?

Two days ago, there was a conference on women's rights in the elegant Nadi Al-Sayd (or Hunting Club) in Baghdad led by the major women's rights groups and they were condemning decision No. 173 saying that it'll be a blow to women's rights in Iraq. The frightening thing was that one of the more secular members of the GC was championing the decision and claiming that it was going to be a 'great advance' in the rights of Iraqi women. He didn't explain how or why, but he condescendingly sat in front of the angry mob of women and gave them a mysterious Mona Lisa smile that, I assume, was supposed to be reassuring.

Seeing some of the GC members give press conferences these days, reminds me of the time I went to watch my cousin's daughter 'graduate' from kindergarten. They had about 20 kids up on this little stage with their teacher, Miss Basma, standing benevolently in their midst. As long as she was on the stage, they all stood correctly; simultaneously reciting a poem they had learned just for the occasion. The moment Miss Basma stepped down, there was a stampede- 20 students rushed for the only microphone on the stage all at once, grappling to see who could reach it first and drown out the other voices with their own.

Now we face a similar situation. Miss Basma- er, I mean Bremer- has been off the stage (in Washington and New York) and there has been a rush to grab the metaphorical microphone. For example, while the decision on family law seems almost definite, Talabani adamantly denies it… other members only reluctantly discuss it.

A couple of weeks ago, when federalism was all the rage with the GC, Talabani made statements on how the decision was almost final: federalism based on ethnicity was just around the corner. The same week, Ibraheim Al-Ja'affari, head of Al-Da'awa Al-Islamiya Party, also made an appearance on either LBC or Al-Arabia, claiming that there was no chance Iraq was going to be split up. Adnan Al-Pachichi then gave a press conference stating that while federalism was an option, it wasn't going to be immediate or 'loose'.

There is now talk of it being some sort of a tradeoff or compromise- federalism for the Kurds on the GC, and Shari'a for the Shi'a Islamic groups… It doesn't matter in the end- the Iraqi people will be the losers.

Meanwhile, there have been huge demonstrations in the south these last few days and in Baghdad, demanding elections. The roads were blocked in Baghdad in the areas around the demonstration and there were helicopters overhead all day. Most of the demonstrators were supporters of Sistani who has made himself a national figure in this mess. He was eerily silent about the occupation in the beginning and now he is probably the most influential challenger of the GC. He fluctuates- one day, he claims that if elections aren't held there'll be a fatwa ordering civil disobedience. On another day, he claims that the decision to hold elections should be made by Kofi Annan. The most significant thing he has said so far is that even if elections are held, people from abroad shouldn't be able to run (i.e. 95% of the GC).

I watched the meeting today between some GC members, Bremer and Kofi Annan on CNN. They didn't seem to come to any conclusion except that *maybe* Kofi would send a delegation to assess the situation in Iraq. Meanwhile, 100,000 Shi'a and Sunnis demonstrated in Baghdad today (although the Shi'a outnumbered the Sunnis by far on this occasion), holding up pictures of Sistani, Al-Sadr and some others. It wasn't violent, but it was angry, forceful and frightening. This has been the largest demonstration since the war.

I'm torn on the topic of elections. While I want elections because it's the 'democratic' thing to do, I'm afraid of the outcome. All the signs lead one to believe that elections will lead to a theocracy (which I dread). The current GC is *not* representative of the Iraqi people- neither Sunnis nor Shi'a approve of them… but will elections bring about a more representative group of would-be leaders? Furthermore, what if the Iraqi 'majority' *do* want a theocracy like the one in Iran? If the choice boils down to a democracy styled like the one in America or a theocracy styled like the one in Iran, how do you think a Muslim country is going to choose?

For more info on Al-Sistani, check out his site- it's in Arabic, Farsi, English, French and Urdu... quite impressive. His biography is here: Sistani's Biography and for those who were *very* interested in temporary marriage, check this out.


- posted by river @ 5:48 AM

 
Shari'a and Family Law...
On Wednesday our darling Iraqi Puppet Council decided that secular Iraqi family law would no longer be secular- it is now going to be according to Islamic Shari'a. Shari'a is Islamic law, whether from the Quran or quotes of the Prophet or interpretations of modern Islamic law by clerics and people who have dedicated their lives to studying Islam.

The news has barely been covered by Western or even Arab media and Iraqi media certainly aren't covering it. It is too much to ask of Al-Iraqiya to debate or cover a topic like this one- it would obviously conflict with the Egyptian soap operas and songs. This latest decision is going to be catastrophic for females- we're going backwards.

Don't get me wrong- pure Islamic law according to the Quran and the Prophet gives women certain unalterable, nonnegotiable rights. The problem arises when certain clerics decide to do their own interpretations of these laws (and just about *anyone* can make themselves a cleric these days). The bigger problem is that Shari'a may be drastically different from one cleric to another. There are actually fundamental differences in Shari'a between the different Islamic factions or 'methahib'. Even in the same methahib, there are dozens of different clerics who may have opposing opinions. This is going to mean more chaos than we already have to deal with. We've come to expect chaos in the streets… but chaos in the courts and judicial system too?!

This is completely unfair to women specifically. Under the Iraqi constitution, men and women are equal. Under our past secular family law (which has been in practice since the '50s) women had unalterable divorce, marriage, inheritance, custody, and alimony rights. All of this is going to change.

I'll give an example of what this will mean. One infamous practice brought to Iraq by Iranian clerics was the 'zawaj muta'a', which when translated by the clerics means 'temporary marriage'. The actual translation is 'pleasure marriage'- which is exactly what it is. It works like this: a consenting man and woman go to a cleric who approves of temporary marriage and they agree upon a period of time during which the marriage will last. The man pays the woman a 'mahar' or dowry and during the duration of the marriage (which can be anything from an hour, to a week, a month, etc.) the man has full marital rights. Basically, it's a form of prostitution that often results in illegitimate children and a spread of STDs.

Sunni clerics consider it a sin and many Shi'a clerics also frown upon it… but there are the ones who will tell you it's 'halal' and Shari'a, etc. The same people who approve it or practice it would, of course, rather see their daughters or sisters dead before they allow *them* to practice it- but that's beyond the point.

Anyway, secular Iraqi family law considers it a form of prostitution and doesn't consider a 'pleasure marriage' a legitimate marriage. In other words, the woman wouldn't have any legal rights and if she finds herself pregnant- the child, legally, wouldn't have a father.

So what happens if a married man decides to arrange a pleasure marriage on the side? In the past, his legitimate wife could haul him off to court, and ask for a divorce because the man would be committing adultery under Iraqi family law. That won't be the case now. Under certain clerics, a pleasure marriage will be considered legal and the woman won't have a case for divorce. Under other clerics, he'll be committing adultery- so who gets to judge? The cleric she chooses, or the cleric he chooses?

Another example is in marriage itself. By tribal law and Shari'a, a woman, no matter how old, would have to have her family's consent to marry a man. By Iraqi law, as long as the woman is over 18, she doesn't need her family's consent. She can marry in a court, legally, without her parents. It rarely happened in Iraq, but it *was* possible.

According to Iraqi secular law, a woman has grounds to divorce her husband if he beats her. According to Shari'a, it would be much more difficult to prove abuse.

Other questions pose themselves- Shari'a doesn’t outlaw the marriage of minors (on condition they've hit puberty). Iraqi secular law won't allow minors to marry until the age of at least 16 (I think) for women and the age of 18 for men.

By Iraqi civil law, parents are required to send their children to complete at least primary school. According to Shari'a, a father can make his son or daughter quit school and either work or remain at home. So what happens when and if he decides to do that? Does Shari'a apply or does civil law apply?

There are hundreds of other examples that I can think of and that make me feel outrage. I practice Islam, but do I want an Islamic government? No. I feel that because we have so many different methahib and religions, any religious government is bound to oppress some faction of society. It's already happening in the south where fundamentalist Shi'a are attacking Christian families and shops.

Juan Cole had something to say about the subject and he referred to an article written in Financial Times appropriately titled, "Iraqi plan for Sharia law 'a sop to clerics', say women". Unfortunately, the writers of the article apparently have no background on secular Iraqi law beyond what the GC members have told them. The fundamentalist GC members claim that civil Iraqi law forced people to go against their doctrine, which isn't true because a large part of civil law was based on Shari'a or the parts of Shari'a that were agreed upon by all the differing Islamic factions (like the right to divorce) and taking into consideration the different religious groups in Iraq.

Women are outraged… this is going to open new doors for repression in the most advanced country on women's rights in the Arab world! Men are also against this (although they certainly have the upper-hand in the situation) because it's going to mean more confusion and conflict all around.

What happens when all the clerics agree that a hijab isn't 'preferred' but necessary? According to this new change in the 'ahwal shakhsiya' laws or 'personal circumstances' laws, all women will have to cover their heads and according to Shari'a, if a woman's husband decides that she can't continue her education or work, she'll have to remain a house-wife.

Please don't misunderstand- any oppression to women isn't a reflection on Islam. It's a reflection on certain narrow minds, ignorance and the politicization of religion. Islam is a progressive religion and no religion is clearer on the rights of women- it came during a time when women had no rights at all.

During the sanctions and all the instability, we used to hear fantastic stories about certain Arab countries like Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, Oman, and Qatar, to name a few. We heard about their luxurious lifestyles- the high monthly wages, the elegant cars, sprawling homes and malls… and while I always wanted to visit, I never once remember yearning to live there or even feeling envy. When I analyzed my feelings, it always led back to the fact that I cherished the rights I had as an Iraqi Muslim woman. During the hard times, it was always a comfort that I could drive, learn, work for equal pay, dress the way I wanted and practice Islam according to my values and beliefs, without worrying whether I was too devout or not devout enough.

I usually ignore the emails I receive telling me to 'embrace' my new-found freedom and be happy that the circumstances of all Iraqi women are going to 'improve drastically' from what we had before. They quote Bush (which in itself speaks volumes) saying things about how repressed the Iraqi women were and how, now, they are going to be able to live free lives.

The people who write those emails often lob Iraq together with Saudi Arabia, Iran and Afghanistan and I shake my head at their ignorance but think to myself, "Well, they really need to believe their country has the best of intentions- I won't burst their bubble." But I'm telling everyone now- if I get any more emails about how free and liberated the Iraqi women are *now* thanks to America, they can expect a very nasty answer.



- posted by river @ 7:55 PM

 
Darkness and Dust...
The last few days we've sort of been on an electricity schedule- for every four hours of no electricity, we get two hours of electricity. It's not much, but it's an improvement on one or two hours for every fourteen of darkness.

The last few minutes of electricity, we run around the house switching off lights, and appliances so that nothing is ruined. Sometimes the electricity doesn't go out immediately- it sort of dims, flashes back on and then stutters to a close. We're getting less generator time because there's still a gasoline problem and everyone is being really careful about the type of fuel they're using because the gas being sold on black market is sometimes mixed with kerosene.

A couple of days ago there was a lot of dust. Iraq is famous for its dust storms. Within a matter of hours, the horizon turns orange and everything looks slightly faded. The stucco houses take on a pale, peach hue and even the people look a little bit dull. It becomes difficult to breathe and it's almost catastrophic for people with allergies.

We've been dusting the last 24 hours because we found everything covered with a light film of dust. The kids spent the day drawing stick figures in the dust on the furniture which drove my mother just a little bit crazy- she rushed about the house wielding a rag and attacking everything with a smooth surface.

Everyone is feeling somewhat depressed these days. The weather isn't particularly good and the air feels charged with a combination of disappointment and impatience.

People are asking what the reaction is to the claims of the former American treasurer about Bush planning regime-change before September 11. Why is that such a shock to Americans? I haven't met a single Iraqi who thinks Iraq had ANYTHING to do with September 11. The claims were ridiculous and so blatantly contrived that it was embarrassing to see people actually believed them.

I sometimes wonder how the American people feel. After these last two wars with Afghanistan and Iraq, do the American people feel any safer? We watch the 'terror alerts' announced on television- politicians with somber faces and dramatic pauses alerting the population that at any minute, there might be an explosion or an attack. It's amusing because Iraq has been at the red level for the last 9 months. Why is it a drama when collective America experiences some strain for a couple of weeks during the holiday, but it's ok for Iraqis to experience five times the strain and apprehension for the next five years? Apparently, we are more tolerant- our blood pressures don't go up, our hearts don't palpitate and our kids can't be traumatized.

We heard about the American embassies being closed and secured all over the world… diplomats being withdrawn from countries or asked to remain locked indoors. Is that part of the 'war on terror'? Are Americans worldwide any safer? Do they sleep better at night now knowing that they are definitely safe from the fabled Iraqi WMD? We've forgotten what it feels like to feel completely safe.





- posted by river @ 5:45 AM