Thursday, July 28, 2005

The Mundane and Inevitable Politics Talk, Pt 1

SONG : Coldplay - Square One(i hate coldplay generally, more so U2)

I've been delaying this moment as far as I can, the moment where i try to extract what i'm trying to say in the fluidity that i have sorted it all out in my mind ; the interpretation is tedious, and generally unsatisifactory. As an amaeturish writer i have expereinced this greatly, Chris Martin is singing now 'Somebody listening to what you say' appropriaetly. Blogs are the introvert's internet (i made this line up), as a 20 year old male iraqi, life couldn't get much more hotter now, and i'm not talking female-hot.

All right....Quite generically, all u cats interested in right now is the political aspect of my homeland, and i'm gonna give you that as fast as I can in order to get rid of it to move on to
what's really brewing in my mind. (a voice deep down screams : GIRLS! but i shush him quite indelibly).
Obviously, Iraq is the hotbed right now for politics dudes everywhere, u go to college, go home, turn on TV, buy a newspaper, go up a tree, fall down the sewers, it's all big fancy words, Democracy, different flavors of US Existence 'Occupation, Liberation, Invasion', Jihaad, Al Sadir*...with every Iraqi born with his Laleh* and political jargon as bouns diaper items, there are lots of types of Iraqi political viewpoints right now, the this, the that, but a majority has remained silent and voiceless, because that's what it's been trained to do. i would like to present u with my own esteemed political analysis of the situation :

I don't give a Jeeraydee*'s ass.

*: Jeeraydee : large rat in Arabic
Laleh : oil lamp in Arabic
Sadir : titties in Arabic, nobody told you that though.

In June 2003, we returned back to school after the two month break, aside from the usual gang of idiots (sorry, MAD MAGAZINE) there were some US soldiers in the backyard (to whom some dudes sang Hey Hey M'khabal (Loon) affectionately for, with the american dudes waving back, not understanding) and lotsa TV Newsreporters. We were stuffed sardine-like in a 40+ classroom, teacher giving us tippers about how they gonna carry out Bakalorea with the ministry's pants halfway down its legs when they hauled me out to get interviewed by some American TV....the reporter was blond. The Grade Principle welcomed me with a smile, my mindworks flashbacked back two years ago when He was telling my pop about what i wrote on the exam paper considering the occupation of a certain Miss Linda. (QUESTION : Miss Linda is a ..... ? )...well the station was interviewing a guy before me, i stood nearby wearing my face non-commentally whilst listening to the words ping-pong. I should tell you this....never trust Iraqi interviews, we guys have been trained ever since childbirth (well, my generation) to forcefully disribute propaganda everwhichways, carefully paying attention to every word,
sound, and smell ever released by our bodies during that process (it's true, have u ever saw an Iraqi fart during an interview?) it's all about 'With all our hearts and glories,
we stand hand by hand line by line to the whim of his excellent the president Saddam blah blah blah' mindworks flashbacks to a worn-out old man reporting to Abo Uday about the situation in Kut before the Hawasim War (2003) (Sayidee, el hijyaa yesterday dreamt u were sitting above El Ka3ba and the people were circling)...a tiny shred of hate slip me as I listen:

FACELESS IRAQI STUDENT : It fills me with a certain weird feeling that the american tank is in my backyard, this is an educational place. Yes, the electiricty have not reached
us since the occupation, as students we are most in need of this and cannot read or anything, where is the so-called prosperity Americans have sought to deliver? I don't know'

I don't remember the exact words, anyway, it went on and on like that for a minute when it was my turn...the american woman reminded me of my uncle's american wife...all earnest eyes and caring mothers

REPORTER : So did u see the tank in the backyard?
ME : Ye....Yes...(i stuttered, i'm very nervous, i try to think of a joke but nothing comes)
REP : So how do u feel?
ME : ............errr.......nothing....

Jeeraydee's ass and Jowayreed's ass to damning hell....

Ain't that a kick? and let me tell you how this shouldershrug attitude was attined. Ever since childbirth, I have somehow known that Saddam is not really the flowers type, mindworks pick up hazy memories - those usually depicted in sepia about me as a five-year-old, all frowny and intellectual with oversized head tryina smudge Saddam's face off my copybook, when my Grandma comes, sees it, lectures me for half-an-hour about my pop going to jail if they ever see that, i spend the next minutes tearing the page to unindentifilble shreds and garbage them. Moral: Lay low and eat shit as it comes.
Saddam bye-byes, i watch his statue fall down, i try to jump of joy like my sister,
but i feel nothing inside....oh gosh it's so hot in here.....politics breaks loose, elections, occupation......more shit, only in different packing material......only now u could get
shot for not returning a salam.
What I'm trying to say, I don't really believe on a deep-down spiritual level in anything even remotely related to politics because of this traumatic childhood. They say, They
argue, they fight, they howl from one week to another, but The Song Remains The Same. We really never believe about anything any guy behind a mic says, all we want is
to cool off, hell I'll trade with the Eskimos anyday.

I went home the day after the interview, told my Grandma about it.
She says to my aunt, nearby sitting 'So he played it realistically'.

you see a lot of pretence everywhere, sometimes you're just tired of it.
Do they really care? Do they really care?
it's hard to believe.
I've stopped caring ever since i lost my innocence.
and I am sorry for all the politics blogs.

I am in Amman, i take a Taxicab to reach my buds, the Jordanian taxi driver is about 50, greying and has a certain gleam in his eyes (we refer to it as 'looti', which translates
into probably 'slicker') which means all the innocence in him is gone.he comments about the traffic after some nifty sidestepping trick he accomplishes, i come out of my usual shell and tell him to thank god he's not in Iraq (i tell it in Iraqi, i've tried to speak Jordanain for a while but cooled it after they mistook me for Libyian)....some shift in his eyes indicates he has a new attention in me, he says 'So how is life now, it's better in Abo Uday's days aren't they?'
'So Abo Uday's better huh?'
It may have been just a statement, but his reference to Saddam as Abo Uday has a certain loyalty, i look at him briefly to wonder, he is one of these fools perhaps
'Yeah, at least we got power a little more', my tone is slightly saracstic
He babbles on for a bit about it, i nod and grunt 'Yeses,' a yes man, ladies and ladiesmen...
he talks about Umm Qasir, Baghdad's fall....I wonder if I had changed underwear
I reply a little aggressivley about some comment he made, not really interested but angry at myself for being a yes man.
He says Saddam's a brave guy, [which is true], then he goes into his trial
He says : 'Did u see his trial? about Kuwait, when he told them why he entered it'
'And what was the cause of the war?'
'When that Kuwaiti guy [name I forgot, not the taxiguy] that I will make the Iraqi Majida (a term Saddam invented for Iraqi women, meaning Glorious Iraqi Women) have a
street price of 10 cents'
'and u go to war for a whore? a whore is a whore ever since, and the problem with the iraqi people is that they are looki (kiss-ups), Saddam belches, next day it's all over
the newspapers and TV about the glorious blech that has enlightened the path to El Kuds liberation'
I wish i was the first guy who said that, but it was him, Guy At The Store One Day Where I Bought a 100-Dinar Gum, who first said it.
my eyes try to tell him that you should live it before you talk it.
in the end, he says 'Well, Ko$$ Ukhutah (F*** his sister, a popular arabic swearword) Saddam my friend.....' , he's apparently over me, and in the end he wishes me good luck and i laugh back amiably, i pay my fare and off to see my friends at Jabri, already half-hour late and ready
to rock.

I am not finished with the politics, next time I'm gonna go give you, my esteemed political fiends, the deal on the Bin Laden stuff, which I actually slightly care about.
Sorry for the attitude, blame it on the weather.

Out and about
The Kid