Checkpoints

If Bush is a chimp, then al-Maliki is definitely an Orange-tang. Think about it. I don't believe in the theory of Evolution, but seeing Mr. Bush and al-Maliki tpgether was too strong a point that definitely made me reconsider.

I'm posting more often. I should stop doing this before it gets too much.
Ever since I left Iraq for Jordan, I was feeling a sense of guilt and remote detachment from what I was talking about, I was hoping that I won't be one of these people talking about things far removed from reality on the ground. It's nice to know that today the news came knocking at my doorstep.

Today, Abu al-Mahasin Abo Esraa Dawlat Prime minister Nori Juwad Kamel al-Maliki was about to meet up with George Bush. Hang on while I go get me a banana.

At 5 PM Wedesnday, my sister who was in college couldn't get inside our area, it was barricaded!!! She did manage to return 20 minutes later, but nostalgia almost made me stand up too quickly, what the? I left all checkpoints behind me in that hellhole....curious enough, I dug up a friend and arranged a hangout....
at 7 PM I was out and no sooner than a few streets away that I find a heavy entourage of police surrounding the Four Seasons hotel ; ever since the 2005 Amman explosions, the hotel has put up a 2-man checkpoint at its main entrance, today a memory-raiser Hummer (green, though) was lazily parked while about 10 men were stationed across nearby streets....all the cars parking at the nearby Arab Bank has been evacuated and they effectively cut off the hotel from the outside streets...they allowed traffic to come in at a regulated pace. As I was making my way through when a bus full of 20-policemen came into the hotel. What could be in there? doesn't King Abdullah II has a royal palace zoo for keeping these malicious simians? It could be the press, speculated mom before I left, but it's too much for that in my own opinion...could the Elephant Man Allawi be snoozing there? or maybe shit-grin Azuz? Sheeesh....The thought of al-Hakim being so near sent shivers to my spine.

Picking up my pal, we had to listen for the typical sermon of the valiant Arab hero, the Jordanian taxi-driver, after a nice exchange of the glorious Iraqis and the Arab nations, asked me where do I hail from, I replied 'Adhamiya' and he said after a moment of recognition, "yeah yeah those brave Sunni resistance" he then descended into the usual routine of calling Shi'ites as unbelievers that should be afraid of the 'Saffavids' and saying that how much we ADORE Saddam, we hate Uday because he raped women, etc etc....for the fuck of it, I told him that I was a Shi'ite. He was caught off guard for a minute and then I couldn't stand it and laughed out loud.

There was a rumor, launched by a subtite on hugely unreliable al-Zawraa TV, which has since Saddam's death sentence been following a very vocal pro-Baathist stance, going as far as broadcasting resistance videos, that Abu Der'a, the notorious Sadr City rambo, was killed. But I don't think so. and even so....what good did the death of Zarqawi do anyway?

The city in general was barren, and other hotels, such as the Days Inn, and the Radisson, which were actually attacked during 2005, did not have such security measures.

The great thing about that day though, was the movie...It's been a while since I last saw a movie that totally, totally blew me away. "The Departed" is a new entry into my picky all-time classics, it's already in my favorite gangster movie genre, reminding me a lot of Curtis's LA Confidential, another classic of mine....I never really appreciated Scorcese until now - the ending is one of the most original ever ; the unexpected, unexpected, unexpected climax generated all sorts of reactions from the crowd - the girl curled up next to me let out a gasp....I laughed out loud again! too loud this time though....but most were silent, awed.

Watch it.

Hey...looks like al-Maliki hit Bush with a pipe (Iraqi slang for dumped) for today's dinner date, I don't think it was because he wanted to shave though.

Nice going, Darwin!

Solution #298 : Reanimation

Spring 2005, we stayed the night in a friend's house in Hay al-Jami'a. There were four of us, next day was Friday - For some reason, we decided to go to the Friday prayer, the big problem back then was that I was wearing a Metallica t-shirt, our host, despite being several sizes larger than yours truly, did manage to produce out a shirt from his 'early cum period', sheesh! I didn't have another choice. We went walking, listened to the sermon, and prayed. Not one of us has looked twice on the fact that one of us, Haidar, is Shi'ite. He prayed with his hands down like a good Shi'ite as the sole abnormality in the line of hand-over-hand Sunnis, we did pray at the back, but still.

Looking back...this memory is almost looney in the suggestions it implies, and what maddens me the most even more is that it only happened a year ago, not five or ten years! Today, even thinking of him going out with is out of the question.
A few days earlier, I contacted a Shiite friend of mine, Laith, who lives in Najaf via e-mail, after a few jokes, I winded him into a religious debate we've been having for several months - I have been keenly researching the Sunni-Shiite conflict and was interested to find out what he, the most religious Shiite friend of mine thinks. That day, I asked him whether it was okay for a Shi'ite to pray with Sunnis, he said: "Well, some Shi'ites drink wine." He equated praying with a Sunni with a highly punishable vice.

Today, people like my Laith (who, despite having a computer full of pro-Iran files and prays in quasi-Persian, is one of the people I truly love) is all over the place, and there is nobody doing anything to stop them ; Haidar is just as good a Shi'ite as Laith, in fact, Baathists once broke into Haidar's house and pulled his mother's hair, but he is a great moderate and I still see him as a great example of a model for a perfect co-existent Iraq. With the ghost of civil war materializing ever more, I was almost paralyzed when I remembered this little public praying-together.

When one looks at this chaotic condition of Iraq, it is hard to imagine how exactly had a single regime managed to effectively all this hocus-pocus under one banner. And out of desperation, sometimes one wonders about the idea of restoring that power.

There are many temptations. First, Saddam is perhaps the most psychologically effective weapon in Iraq in terms of stabilization. It is hard to argue against the fact that Saddam, despite his many crimes, has a formidable personality, his figure can inspire the "Patriotic National Resistance (lol)" beyond morale, and he is especially destructive to the psychosis of any good Shi'ite because of a two-fold reason that greatly applies to both the near-history and the far-history/psychology of the situation: Saddam's minions were monstrous when they quelled the 1991 uprising, and most importantly - Shia faith is built upon losing battles to tyrants, subscribed to intense victimization that is kept alive by a cinematic scope - a lot of modern Shiite leaders draw parrels between any unjust ruler to Hussein & Yazid's Karbala, how can you win against the pernnial 'tyrant' figure when even your holiest figures falied? I really think that in terms of at-hand stabilization, nobody can do it like Saddam, the running joke is that: "Saddam once said to prison ward, you know, if they'd let me get back at that chair for one hour I'd whip this country into shape."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah. 55 minutes to wash up, shave and wear new clothes, and 5 minutes to appear on TV."

But this is impossible for a great number of reasons:
Saddam's resurrection will be only a temporary band-aid, knowning him, he will greatly entrench Sunnis and completely butcher Shiites beyond suffering, learning his lesson, he will be the USA biggest tool and will not bother them again. Iran, his sworn enemy, may step up to the challenge, but I have the feeling that it cannot really withstand a determined Saddam/USA alliance. The sectarain tensions has heated up considerably, and this will eventually lead to a regional war at some point.
Most importantly, USA will lose face to the entire world, and won't be ever respected again in the same manner.

It's just a quick temp job that won't do the trick and will only lead to negative escalation of the regional conflict. Of course, There is a way of resurrecting part of Saddam's psychological advantage, perhaps by killing him, to eliminate any chance of his return, then reconcilling the remaining Baathists with some promises and installing a regime with Baathist traces that will not abuse Shiites, but uses the same brute force against everyone, with loyalty to Americans alone. So what if we are loyal to America? It's better than being loyal to al-Qaeda, Saddam, or any given Ayatollah - I wanna do the funky dance and eat my junk food, man. an Allawi-led regime could work to this advantage, given that many Iraqis now ironically remember his brief era as the rosy part of the post-invasion period.

The End Is Nigh

This is going to happen sooner than I expected.

Interior minister Jowad al-Boulani (slightly mischievous literal translation is Jowad The Pisser) came out on state-run television today and said that an arrest warrant has been placed on the head of Harith al-Dhari, head of the Muslim Scholars Association.

Wow. First off, al-Dhari represents the topmost 'Sunni' figure in Iraq's political scene, with credibility as powerful as SCIRI's Abdilaziz al-Hakim for Shi'ites. He represents the earlier Sunni stance of all-iraqi-rejects: no to occupation, no to elections, no to governmnets, fuck all - Falluja on your ass. He is incredibly hated by Shi'ites in general, and has been accused of being covertly allied with al-Qaeda, the Wikipedia entry for the Muslim Scholars Association describes it as the 'political face of al-Qaeda in Iraq.'

al-Dhari give his enemies the opportunity they've been dying to get a few days back on al-Arabiya television, he called the Anbar Rescue Council, the recently formed force fending off al-Qaeda in volatile Anbaar governorate a formation of 'weak tribes and bandits', he also said that al-Qaeda is 'a form of resistance, but we do not agree on them killing innocents'.

This is going to flame hell, as a Sunni, I used to love al-Dhari back in 2005 when Badr was running around killing people without anyone to step up to them, he looked strong, determined ; but after a while I got sick of all the sectarain bullshit and decided to hate them all, I must say however that my hatred for al-Dhari is rational, not emotional, this is how we are these days, I have to force myself to hate him, because no matter how hard I try there is a reminder deep down inside that we may lose to the other guys, and it scares me. Forget the "Sunnis and Shiites are united" This is Bullshit, the people who love Iraq as a country are a scared minority living outside the country and doing nothing.
Most Sunnis do love the Muslim Scholars, unlike Saddam, who's only credible with Baathists and opportunists who were livin' it back then, mainstream Sunnis may fall back on old Saddam sometimes because they feel so lonely stranded with Badr and Mahdi's big cahoonas.

What do I feel about al-Dhari's arrest warrant? I'm a minority, a guy who loves his country, not his sect. so my opinion does not entrail nothing, but here it is: Like so many people said about Saddam's execution. It could've felt much better, I would really be happy if they caught al-Dhari, but I would've felt happier if they managed to lay hands on al-Sadr, al-Hakim, Jalal al-Din al-Saghir, Solagh and all the other haters and murderers out there.

With Saddam, the Ba'athist figure, and al-Dhari, the Sunni Muslim figure being chased, the shitstorm prediction may be sooner than u think, hang on to your toilets.

I can really smell it, and to tell you something, I am relieved. Cut the teasing and just get it over with, we are getting sleepy.

Iraqi Personalities : Shalash al-Iraqi

Americans keep asking us all the time to be grateful, having given much thought into what exactly are some of the things that we cannot evade but say "thank you" the way a grateful near-gone patient say it to the smug know-it-all doc, and one of the things no two Iraqis (given that they can read) will argue about being a good byproduct of American Invasiliberoccupation of Iraq is that we got to hear from Shalash al-Iraqi.

The importance of Shalash cannot be overstated enough, at its best, Iraqi art and literature have always verged on a quasi-real ambience that felt borrowed from an unreal, Shakespearean sketch of heroes and villains, it have worsened substantially under the totalitarain years by the added burden of forced tribute to the king - who often wrote novels for farts, what little post-relative war drama that managed to escape fake patriotism failed to reflect a true daring vision of life in an Iraqi street, and Iraqis lost interest following up such laughably unrealistic creations that have simply no relationship to day-to-day motivations of Iraqis; merely pretentious, poseur hambala (one can only point at the horribly languid dramas that showed during Ramadhan such as the laughable parallel-universe "Love Militia".

And out of all this wrecakge of theatrical wannabes and detached artistic indulgences came a voice so real in its simplicity that lights a candle of hope for all Iraqis every morning that he chooses to write. Since Septembr 25, 2005 - Shalash started to publish articles in well-known Iraqi website Kitabat.com, the first one or two articles were nondescript political commentary without any particular course, but soon Shalash began to craft satirical masterpieces about life in now-legendary Sadr City slums, his articles soon gained a large following and is heralded today as perhaps the most read Iraqi writer today. For the Western world, it is best to understand the impact of Shalash al-Iraqi by comparing him to the influence of Mark Twain's Adventures of Huckleberry Finn when it first hit out - it uses the language of the street to uncover social diseases with unflinching blatancy, there are actually many factors as to why Shalash is such a revered writer, first - quite simply, Iraqis need black humor as a pscyhological defense with urgent demand ; nothing practical seems to work and while we can't fix it, we might as well use the defense of the joke, like the small nourishement of an anti-Saddam joke back in the relatively 'good' days of the moustached tyrant. Second, Shalash manages to hit on all the rights strings that defines a typical Iraqi in a time where it's very hard to find a good depiction of that: From his very name 'Shalash', the image he conveys is of a simple, downtrodden man who looks at the follies of the world at large and cannot do anything about it, a straight man who revers holy figures but is not particularly religious, aware of his sect without it being a problem that transcends his nationality. Politically, Shalash is not biased toward any particular group, he has one day been honored by the government for that day's article which made fun of 'the enemies of the state' only to be severely threatened for the next day's article, like most Iraqis, Shalash is especially spiteful towards all Iraqi politicians and generals and has only apathy for Americans.

Shalash is a great study into the Iraqi psyche.

And, he is so funny.

Shalash is one of the few writers that can make me fall out of my chair in surprised laughter, it is hard to convey to you how exactly he does it and how well he does it, becuase the charm lies in how his words dance together in their streetwise charm - it might be important to notice that the usual written word is Classical Arabic, which further creates a sense of detachment from an Iraqi's everyday experience, when you you open an Arabic novel, you are teleported into a different world. Shalash keeps you firmly entrenched in your mundane surroundings while making their otherwise dull presence shine with gleeful charm. Most importantly Shalash makes you proud of the fact that you are Iraqi, that your culture can be so funny, can be so touching, he brings back a piece of importance and glory to this suffering land that has become largely dependent on past days' glories. Shalsh isn't just a talented talker with the commitment of transcribing his words to paper, he is a crafted, encyclopediac writer who is skilled with all the ins and outs of storytelling - Taking Sadr City as a starting point, Shalash creates a dynamic universe to set his stories in: while not fictional by any means, Shalash utilizes an array of characters who are often comical exaggerations to create an enjoyable experience that carries his idea forward, characters such as fan-favorite Khanjaar, (literally translates as dagger), an ignorant, flamboyant person with who always is where the money at, a somewhat accurate comic sketch of the mentality of people in the Mahdi's Army or Nowira, wife of Ghurab (Enlightened, wife of Crow): the woman who knows all the secrets and scandals of the street or many others, Shalash has managed to provide a consistent string of classics until February of 2006, where his tone has notoriously changed - his writings became less frequent and when he did actually write, his articles lacked his quick down-to-earth wit and were instead formless ravings about how bad it is with machinegun curses at most of the Iraqi politicians, a tactic far removed from Shalash's masterful humilitation of them in his earlier articles, Zeyad said that one of his friends has been killed, but I have no evidence of this anywhere. However, as of late - Shalash seems to be recovering and is writing more regularly, his recent writings seem to indicate that he has a newfound hunger and is recuperating, it is still not as good as his older ones, and some people doubt that it comes from the same person, but we may now be blinded by the weight of expectation or it needs some time to sink in.

Little is known about Shalash's true identity for reasons understood, judging from his knowledge about Sadr City it is safe to say that he has lived there for some time, but it is doubtful whether he continues to live there now.

A SAMPLE OF HIS WRITINGS:

Shalash's pieces sometimes are just for the fun of it, but more often than not they are allegories that might be missed if u don't look close enough, I have chosen this piece because its brilliance lies not in its language but in the idea, it is one of the few pieces which Shalash has written largely in Classical Arabic.

"THE ETERNAL NIGHTMARE OF COMRADE JABIR"

16 October 2005

The tale of Jabir and Mahdi begins in 1982, when comrade Jabir, a Baath official in one of al-Thawra* city's districts insisted to pry Mahdi from the arms of his mother and two orphaned sisters to enscript him in the ranks of the People's Army to contribute in the war against the "Fire-worshipping Iranian" enemy.

Mahdi tried and tried to evade his fate by changing the courses and timings of his comings and goings between his home and his workplace at "al-Jawadain bakery shop", but he finally fell into the trap, while Mahdi was going to work in an early morning hour Jabir finally managed to trap him and to force him inside the section's car. Mahdi's tears and beggings did not soften the heart of comrade Jabir nor his fellow comrades, and when Mahdi gave up on it, He only asked for a chance to inform his sick mother, who has nobody to support her but him, but the Party taught Jabir to only follow the prinicples. The car drove on and Mahdi found himself in a training camp away from his mother's eager heart, who awaited him duly on the doorstep until late night when she knew for sure that he fell into comrade Jabir's vile hands. "What I feared has come true" she said to herself and sobbed heartfully. The next day, she called upon Fatima, her eldest daughter, to show her the way to the comrade's house, which is normally called 'The official's house', a weak hand knocked on the door, and comrade Jabir opened it and explained to her with courtesy that the country needs men and out of his respect for Mahdi's neighboring of him he will ask for someone to take care of him, adding that it's "only a matter of months". when Mahdi's mother explained in between tearful shrieks their hard living conditions "By the Abaas, we do not have a lump of bread", comrade Jabir curtly said that "The country is passing through a difficult historic stage and we must sacrifie the expensive and the precious for the eyes of Abu Oday*, this is what men are destined for."

In the first attack he was flung into, Mahdi was captured in the famous 'al-Shoosh' battle, to find himself in a camp on the Soviet-Iranian borders where he lived his youth as a prisoner facing extremely difficult conditions: "We ate very few rice and bread, never meat, and we tried to cut our way through ice which was a meter thick, by our plates, hearing nothing of the outside world and on top of that...." Such a thing was normally heard from Mahdi upon his return.

In 1987, one of the most bizarre, if not nightmarish, things happened, as during a visit of a member of the Supreme Council of the Islamic Revolution (SCIRI) to the prison camps to issue a religious seminar, a man by the name of Fadhil who wore a turban and was close to al-Hakim's family which owns the council, this man was accompanied by four aides, the foremost of them was, lo and behold, comrade Jabir, yes, comrade Jabir who also was captured in 1985 and announced his repention, becoming one of the repentors who formed the Badr Brigade.. Madhi felt the earth shaking below him seeing that the heavens has unleashed Jabir upon him in his homeland and now to this forgotten spot of the earth....oh my god, what is going on!! Mahdi said this while his eyes shot to the sky. Comrade Jabir took a few steps towards Mahdi after having recognized him, he said: "God has sent me as mercy to you, oh Mahdi, how much have you changed...look at the white enveloping your hair, what ghost do I see? Are you really Mahdi, my longtime neighbour, do not lose hope, God will forgive you, come, I shall register your name with one of the repenters to be one of the heores of Badr Brigade, under the banner of Imam Khomeini may God extend his presence, we shall free Iraq from the unbelieving tyrant Saddam may God curse him."

Mahdi took a long look at Jabir's equally long beard and his new appearance, and he replayed in his head the image of this wolf when he spoke about principles and the Qadissiya* of Saddam, and the banner of the hero of national liberation, valiant comrade Saddam Hussein (May Allah bless him and keep him)." He regained what might he has and said: "Listen Comrade Jabir....Hasn't it been you who has brought me here? Hasn't it been you who ruined my life? What do u want more of me?! Have you not prevented my mother from my sight and left my sisters shelterless? Ok, I forgive you for all of this...but if you want to make a traitor out of me then by God that I will not forgive....in the end of days you want to make me an agent....of what are you made? There an official and here an official, what the hell are you?!"

Jabir smiled slyly and replied quitely to his poor prey: "Listen Mahdi, you are not one who is of use and you must have believed yourself, you must know that I am a leading person, here, there or in Mars. God created me a leader, what can I do? It's not in my hand...I'll give you a week to think this through and after this you know what can be done to you....you dirty, unbelieving Baathist!" Mahdi held himself and restrained a spit that urged to let go, he turned his face away from this low agent and withdrew inside his cage with tears raining from his eyes.

A week later, comrade Jabir would host daily torture parties for Saddamist Mahdi, as he liked to call him, torture parties that Mahdi could not fully describe, because the minute he remembers them his eyes swell with tears, his face goes pale and his temperature goes up, only to sweat and to shy away from those present.. Days passed, the war was over and Mahdi returns to find that his mother has passed away after losing her sight in sadness for his departure, while his thin sisters are living on the aids of neighbors and the charity of relatives...Mahdi depended on God and began his life anew in the bakery shop during the horrible years of economic blockade....

Days yet again passed, Saddam's regime collapsed and things got messy. Today, in the constitutional referrendum center, which Mahdi decided to vote yes for, he entered with his elderly composure, curved back and hesitant steps...slowly he headed towards the record employees, and suddenly his eyes fell upon two eyes that were watching him between a number of Badrist ring-yielding bearded men who were watching the center, his soul shrank and he almost fell face flat on the floor when Jabir called loudly:

"Mahdi! Lak* Mahdi is that you? What brings you here?!"

Mahdi grunted a near-dead yes that even he could barely hear.

"What will you vote for, ya* Baathi?"

"Yes. I will vote a yes and if you would like you can write it for me."

"Ah ya Mahdi the Baathi, what did you refuse to repent and spent your years rotting in cages, why did you not believe me when I said that I am a natural-born leader and you are an insect, but an insect that cannot make heads from tails."

Mahdi stared into the face of his perennial tormentor and said: "You are a traitor....a natural-born traitor." Mahdi said that sentence and disappeared.

----------------------------

*: Thwra: Sadr City's name before Saddam's time, in which it was named Saddam City (people still called it by its original name, Thawra, in their normal conversation, which is its original name, literaly meaning Revolution)

Qadissiya: Baath term for the Iraq-Iran war, allegroy to the historic Battle of Qadissiya, during which Arabs conquered Iraq from Persians

Lak: Iraqi preposition, a rugged form of calling someone that can be either offensive or ruggedly friendly. it's short for 'Wayl Lak', which means "A plague be upon you"

Ya: Arabic preposition, meaning 'O', as in 'O Lord'.

The way I see it, this story has a simple moral and a more composed one, the first of which is the direct criticism of SCIRI and people who always seek to rule over others - and the other is an allegory to Iraqis and their rulers during the course of several reigns, as Jabir becomes the complete shell for the cruel Iraqi ruler and Mahdi is the suffering citizen. Note that while the narrative is in classical Arabic, all dialogue between characters is rendered in slang, except the first speech given by Jabir when he repents, to add a religious and authoritative weight to it which is quickly countered by his fact-sheet style second speech.

Saddam's Sentence

Baghdad, Iraq - Saddam Hussein was sentenced to death by hanging for his role in the death of 184 Shiites in al-Dijail case today, ending a long courtroom session that witnessed the death of several people involved in the ordeal more than one year from the date the whole facade started.

Other sentences included two other deaths for notorious courtdroom drama bad boy Ibrahim Barazan al-Tikriti (Abu Uday's half-bro) and Awad al-Bandar, head of the Revolution's Court. A life sentence plus some other sentences to be carried out in death for Taha Yassin Ramadhan, and other prison sentences (7, 15) for three other nameless dudes, and one clearance.

ACTING:
Asked about his performance on the trial, Saddam Hussein said that he could've done a lot better and that his performance sounded robotic and uneven, no where near his accolade-earning performances in earlier seasons, while we all respect the great multiple-award winning figure for his fiery and inspirational performances earlier on, he felt like speaking monolgues on cue even while brandishing his Quran, he said that he will be studying performances of Jack Nicholsons in 'A Few Good Men' and Al Pacino's 'Scent of A Woman' and 'And Justice for All' for inspiration for his next performances, which is unlikely that there ever will be - supporting actors like Taha Yassin Ramadhan and Awad Fadhil al-Bandar trotted out usual fares in their comfortable propaganda characters, especially chuckleworthy was the brittle parting speech of Ramadhan, in which he proclaimed: "I know that this court cannot keep me alive nor will it terminates me, but it is only in the will of God and the Mujahideen." He himself looked bored by the drone of such familiar words, they did not even make sense on his tribal, criminal face. This is always bad for actors, and it is rumored that Ramadhan might lose his contract if he keeps up these muddy performances.
Co-star Barazan al-Tikiriti however remained as controversial as ever, ending his role in a surprise twist of calm deadpan delivery: 'Congratulations.', retaining his unpredictable flavor. He later said that this was an improvisation: "I had my lines memorized, but while the cameras were rolling I felt that a silent, brooding look added menace and intrigute to a character often plagued with neurosis, he chuckled in the make-up room.

SCRIPT
While the script was predictable to a great degree, the writers did an especially nice job by some neat touches here and there, there was an ingenious scene where Saddam Hussein, upon hearing his death sentence, shouted: "Allahu Akbar", and a watcher above also said the exact same words - except Saddam said it in protest of the court's injustice while the wather applauded that court's integrity....such an ironic and fascinating display. I also liked the bit where they kick out former US attorney Ramsey Clark in a show of the court's independence and Iraqi spirits. It's very cool to see a bald Kurd kick out a Ramsey Clark (played by Jon Voight).

DIRECTION
The director does an absoluetly brilliant job as always, the visuals are slick and Saddam's make-up is absolutely spot-on, every camera captures a sublte nuance and the special effects are downright spectacular. Brilliant.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Most of the Iraqis I've prodded felt oblivious to what could happen to Saddam's neck, a Sunni cousin of mine by the name of Omar in Ghazaliya said: 'To the hell', while another Sunni cousin of mine in Egypt said: 'To the heck." I for one, felt happy, and congratulated everyone I saw. While having justice done to the tyrant would have been so much better if it were not for the sad state of Iraq today, I only felt good today because this could actually achieve good effects on the ground - I think that the minute Saddam is executed many of the Baathists would stop and reconsider what they are fighting for, the Iraqi Baath party always will be a personality cult. Hell may break loose for the next couple of days but remember, we are already in hell, so bring it on.
Jordanians however looked upon the matter from the average benign way Arabs look upon Saddam, a brave valiant hero who stood up against America.

Iraqi Konfused Kid Happy Eid bonuses

Happy Eid everyone, here is a tribute for the four friends who were killed in a roadside explosion week before their graduation, I talked about them in the 6/11 post. RIP.

In case you were curious how do I sound like talking English, here is me being interviewed by the BBC regarding my post on the Baghdad Treasure blog, enjoy

Mecca Document? Iraqis choose Mahdi's Army

I watched the Mecca PR stunt yesterday, a dazzling feast that has plenty of action and romance, with dazzling special effects, I especially loved the way they made them all sit with the holy Kaaba visible from the window with people circling it, the fatwa is supposed to be the religious s be-all end-all viewpoint on the sect-fueled war that is going on between Sunnis and Shiites in Iraq, it was supported by all the big players - Read about it in details here, if you want

In the conference that was broadcast live, a table was shown, Ahmed Abdilghaffour al-Samarrie, the Sunni endowment head, in my opinion a nice harmless guy who's just about as clueless about this as any, and a SCIRI representative, approprietly frowny and white-bearded like a Jalal al-Din al-Sagheer fashion fan, sat together and told knock-knock jokes about Sunni-Shiite being as much friendly to each other as teddybears and that their faith is in the essence the same, brilliantly clad in symbolic black & white turbans as a cinematic afterthought, after the blah-blahs faded, they gave space for reporters to ask them questions, this was what they asked them, the actual exchange was much more graceful, but luckily I had my Bullshit Filter on:

REPORTER 1: Do you have any mechanism for implementing your edict on the ground? (actual question was more decorated than this)
KHOSH-WALAD SAMARRIE 1: blah-blah yaddad yadda peace and prosperity, but we hope that Iraqis are naturally good and this is the last night of Ramadhan.
REPORTER 2: Do you have any method by which you can apply your fatwa in Iraq?
FROWNY-JALAL TURBAN 2: wiggilie-wiggilie peace humpty dumpty love sumbul bulaybul dumbk dunaibuk understanding.
REPORTER 3: Excuse me, but on terms of a practical appreciation of your document, do you expect that it will be endorsed and applied (same question reworded)
THE COORDINATING GUY IN THE MIDDLE: All right buddy, you asked for it, this is the top religious clergy here, we tell you how in which direction to shit and how many papers you use to wipe your arse, we are here to say that blood is forbidden, it is up for the Iraqis, the natural loving and peaceful nation to endorse it, if they do not - we have made ourselves clear on the matter.

Meanwhile, Iraqi Shiites favor al-Mahdi's army Read it, it's very nice, and very honest.

Can you blame the Iraqi Shiites? I do not. They tell the truth, this is not a simple ideological struggle that can be waived aside by the whiff of a religious clergy's ruminations, even Grand Ayatollah Ali al-Sistani is waning, after being used by UIA as an advertising campaign to win the elections. Anyone who calls for peace is shut-up by the realities of life as it is, everybody is so afraid of each other, I remember when Zarqawi died and I went to the mosque to listen to the Friday speech in an Adhamiya mosque, the Imam was practically crying! Nobody wants militas or Zarqawi, but everybody is so afraid of the other now, there is no trust.
Unless the National Reconcillation gimmick targets those who you should really make up your peace with, the blood-soaked Baathists, the backbone of the insurgency, who had their homes and money but now lost it all and are giving Iraqis and Americans a hard time about it, it will be fruitless. al-Qaeda is worthless without their straetgic allies the Baathists, who adopted a more Islamic veil to fit in with the times and bring us all to this sectarain lollapalooza. Shiite militas atrocities are infintely more horrific, but you have no right to blame them when you are part of the blame, get real. In Sadr City, Abu Der'a is a national hero, to quote Abdilaziz al-Hakim's 12 year old son. These murderers will lose their support only when you negotiate with the Baathists.
Ayad Jamal al-Din, my only favorite politicain (aside from stand-up comedian parliament speaker Mahmood al-Mashhadani) says: "I support dialogue with those who killed Iraqis, you see, most of the insurgents attacks these days are 95% targeting Iraqis, and 5% targeting Americans, reminding them that we, the Baathists, were your loved ones before and we can stir shit up if u ignore us - these are not necessarily terrorists in the regime time but they had homes, positions, and gains and now these were all stripped and they were even persecuted, so it is only natural that they resort to violence. It is like a young stubborn child who's being kicked out by his mother and is starting to throw rocks at the house. Unless you convince them, there is no hope behind it all."

PEOPLE ARE AFRAID. and they resort to their sectarian identity because they ARE AFRAID, not because they are hateful beings.
--------------
KID (leaving the mosque's prayer with Habib, his neighbor): Man, that speech was one disgusting peace of crap!
HABIB: Come on man, now they can slaughter us like sheep! and we can't do anything about it! If they killed one, we could've killed a hundred! it's like Saddam, he was bad but when he left everyone missed him.

-----------------------------

"Be careful of the Wahhabis!" said the father in Sadr City to his departing 8-year-old son
"I just want him to know whom to hate."

-----------------------------

You may laugh and say look at these nomadic Arabs slicing each other's heads off like there's no tomorrow, but please try to understand...this is no joke...

We are dying? Do you understand....we are dying...

Iraqi Bloggers Discuss Lancet Study, Iraq The Model

Debate summarized by Konfused Kid


In a first-of-its-kind event, a sizable number of Iraqi bloggers sat down together and discussed the recent Lancet study, which states that more than 650,000 Iraqis have died as a result of the U.S. invasion and its ensuing chaos.

However, the event was not a direct discussion of the study itself, what caused the commotion was an especially volatile post of prominent Iraqi blogger IRAQ THE MODEL in response to the Lancet study. ITM called the Lancet: [a bunch of] lies, I'm talking here about those researchers who used the transparency and open doors of the new Iraq to come and count the drops of blood we shed. when they did not find the death they wanted to see on the ground, they faked it on paper! This is an insult to every man, woman and child who lost their lives.Let those fools know that nothing will stop us from walking this road and nothing will stop our friends and allies from helping us reach safe shores."
The discussion started when furious blogger Konfused Kid sent a mass e-mail to a sizable group of Iraqi bloggers, demanding that they give their opinions about the general viewpoint and direction of Iraq The Model in general, outlined in this post. Kid said that: "they [ITM] are just an inbred propaganda machine, if this is not crossing the line, then I don't know what is....", Kid accused Iraq The Model for being "an example of the mentality that currently prevails the Green Zone, nervous Iraqis who just want to make a few bucks by catering to an audience and telling them what they want to hear"

He also posted a more expanded reponse on his blog.
His letter was met by a series of emails, carrying mixed responses. Most of which however, seemed to agree, with various degrees of enthusiasm:

Miraj said that: "he wants to follow other Iraqi bloggers to US and what is better than sucking up to the Americans."

Baghdad Treasue: "I wish I could fly from America back to Iraq just to show him what being a tool to the white house means. He is just a shame."

El Delilah : "He could have made things simple just by posting a picture of himself licking a pair of bloody-muddy timberlands shiny."

El Delilah also posted a vicious criticism of ITM on her own blog


TRUTH ABOUT IRAQIS: "Traitors like ITM get a voice because people like us lose ours in the squabbling. this is not about democracy and it is not about freedom of speech. Look up social responsibility theory in mass communications. When someone publishes something that does the mass public harm then that person has forfeited the right to freedom of speech."

He also have written a short post about the Lancet study

IRAQI SCREEN: "I am sure they are dying for an asylum in USA to be close to their dear Bush. Did they ever read about Haditha masscre, Ishaqi and Falluja?"
KHALID JARRAR: "Being a traitor is not an allowed option, and should not be legitimized by ranting about freedom of speech, I swear reading them is just like reading a white house statements."
NAJMA: "ITM makes most of us angry, yet most of the people who read' em almost worship their opinions"
SALAM ADIL: My main point was that they are in danger of growing up to be like the Baathist apologist that they so despise. Spinning wild stories just to make their supporters feel good.

Salam Adil also wrote a feature about all the Iraqi blog posts about the Lancet survery on his regular GlobalVoices feature, including some posts by fellow bloggers who did not contribute to this discussion.

24 STEPS TO LIBERTY: "You [ITM] said it is a shame to have such a study? A shame to count the sacrifices Iraqis have to make along the way to a better future? Why have you counted Saddam's victims then? Why you, and your kind of anti-rational dialogue people, have endless statistics numbering Saddam's horrible crimes? Isn't a shame?"

ANARKI13: "ITM should pick their fights a bit better, and one should never argue with mathematics.this was not their most inflammatory post, but it does hit on some really strained nerves"

MAJED: "this [post] is sick! I disagree with the idea that this nonsense could be marked as freedom of speech"

LORD: "we must not let people like ITM and other opologists have thier way. we must realize the truth, we must uncover thier lies, we must uncover the crimes thier masters had done to our people. everybody seemd to forget about what this study was really about, which is humane beings."

IRAQI SIGNOR: "I didn't quite understand what was so bad about it. However, afte reading between the lines, which I should have done from the beginning, I saw the underlying message of blunt support for the occupation of Iraq. How shameful."

Iraqi Signor also published a long post about the study on his own blog


RAED JARRAR: "I wonder what readers will think of the fact that ITM sounds like a holocaust denier. After all, counting the holocaust casualties was based on a similar methodology to that used by this latest Iraq casualties report."

WHITE ROSE: "I think [they] seem to be living on a different planet not to notice the killings, disappearances, kidnappings, bodies burnt & disposed of in rivers or thrown collectively in other areas and garbage dumps, this is not what a supposed "liberated country" should be going through. We the "liberated" must not be dying this way anymore, since Saddam, the cause of all our misery & violent deaths, is not an issue anymore. "


IRAQI THOUGHTS "One has to just look at the comments section of ITM and see why they write the way they do.... its a blog written to be read for non-Iraqis, I am proud to say my blog was removed from their links section, a lot of us USED to read ITM, but its bull***t now, lets stop hating on them, Just stop reading it if you want"

however, some people did not voice their objection quite as soundly:

IHATH : "I think there are enough people beating up on each other in Iraq without the need of us adding to it. I myself stopped reading ITM long time ago, I can predict what theywill say on any issue before going to their blog. Enough said."

She also wrote a characterisitcally strange post on her personal blog

HALA_S: "I did not like ITM post at all, I have to agree with you all that it was too much to take.However ITM has a lot of virtues as well. They worked hard and constantly reported on daily issues in Iraq for a long time. Probably they are the onlyones who never took a break, also they never expressed any secterian remark which is something most of us do."

NEUROTIC WIFE: I too was very pained when I read ITM's post regarding their dispute of Iraqi killings. It did boil my blood , but I cant say that I dislike ITM, cuz I dont. They have interesting point of views, and sometimes they are very informative."
She also wrote a post on her personal blog .

and ZAPPY: "a blog belongs to its owner, he can say whatever he likes, if hes got a comment link then comment, else leave the matter alone. don't take this thing too personal, you disagreed with the ITM's, so do I and a number of other bloggers, so what?"

NABIL: "What is this all about? Why don't u leave the guy alone, he's nuts anyway..."



Several high-profile bloggers also participated in the discussion, godfather of Iraqi blogs SALAM PAX expressed interest in writing something in response to the ITM, but did not add further to the point, while ZEYAD, who had earlier written about the study, also provided comments but they were not related to the debate directly, while RIVERBEND watched the debate silently, but perhaps as an indirect response she decided to break her 2 and a half months hiatus to post about the study.
Fellow bloggers MIXMAX and FAYROUZ, did not participate directly in the debate, but have posted about the study on their own respective blogs.


There were, however, a few who had an entirely different opinion:

SOONI: "ITM is one of the most respectable Iraqi blogs, although I disagree with them in what they say sometimes. The problem is never been with the American presence in Iraq the real problem is with Iraqis themselves they keep looking for new ways and reasons to kill each other"

IRAQ PUNDIT : "I was taken aback by ITM's posting. I believe they are nice guys who have somehow allowed themselves to write something bizarre."

Iraq Pundit also wrote an issue about the study and the debate on his own blog.

NIBRAAS KAZIMI: "ITM is a true patriotic blog"

NO PAIN NO GAIN: " I believe they mean that [the deaths] are incomparable to the death that Saddam killed, the [current] fear and these deaths that are occurring everyday has [a chance of a positive] outcome. I believe the ITM are trying to look at the bright side of matters in Iraq. They want to see that they are still fighting for a good hope...a hope that is fading among Iraqis and they dont want to let that go."

While knowning that this debate was taking place, IRAQ THE MODEL moderators have not responded in any direct way, they simply removed Konfused Kid's name from their blog-index and they posted something that may be an implicit reply that supplemented their Lancet post. They followed that by removing names of some other bloggers who participated in the debate.

---------------------
FOOTNOTE BY KID: I am really proud of all that has happened, this is the first time something of this magnitude has happened, I hope this would be the start of a more active Iraqi blogger community, something which a lot of people has been voicing need for since a long time.

Iraq The Model

tOkay buddy, it's really time for you to cut the hamballa.

This post is a reaction to the recent post at the infamous ITM blog, I was so taken aback by it that I just had to write something.

IRAQ THE MODEL is probably one of the few 'superstar' blogs the Iraqi blogosphere has produced, and this is for a few reasons: 1. It was an early blog and most importantly 2. It supports the American propaganda virtually 100% - it fits the picture of what Americans wants Iraqis to be hand in glove, a supporter of all that 'war on terrorism' campaign and if I didn't know better I would say that this guy is hands-on an American soldier who is just as naive as the clueless Iraqis who chanted to Saddam and believed their own made-up lies back in the days.

Understood, I appreciate democracy and freedom of speech, but I can safely say that the viewpoint of the people behind this blog represents about somewhere between 2 to 1% of all Iraqis, I would even go as far as call it an anomaly created by an extra chromosome or something, there are people, especially those who oppose religion and identity, who could get sold up to the American Dream, to be part and parcel of all the ideals America stands for, I am not saying that Arabs are helplessly monstorous that they oppose liberty and democracy and want to be spend all day playing Russian Roulette with swords, but there is such a thing as an identity with your nation, and these guys make me sick with their obvious sucking-up they are doing to be sold out to Americans. It could be that they are just trying to achieve a common goal of a modern, democratic Iraq by sounding like a brainwash, but they play it so industriously well that my intuition tells me that there is something else on the take.

IRAQ THE MODEL is an example of the mentality that currently prevails the Green Zone, nervous Iraqis who just want to make a few bucks by catering to an audience and telling them what they want to hear, maybe their intentions were earnest in the beginning, but now things have started to look messed up and if they deviate from the fake sugar-ass bullshit they've been shoving up their audience their popularity will end, so they choose to go all the way, working up a good chunk of money with all the revenue from the ads until they can safely call it quits and retire in some nice Friends of Democracy-compatible country, spending all their well-earnt money on hoes and booze.

Could you tell me, my dear friends Omar and Mohammed, WHY is this list fake? do you have a single shred of proof as to why these Lancet documents and statistics are such a 'disgrace to all the women, children and men who died'? merely calling it fake and disgusting just don't cut it, please stop living the lie, and take a look outside your window. You call them careless for the victims of this country! I cannot believe this! "Using data for own gains." You have just proved your own point.

Like most other Iraqi bloggers, this site makes me nauseous, they make me fall alseep anyway by the half of any given post - but, I call on all Iraqi bloggers to campaign against this horrible freak of a blog, maybe back in the day you worked for the glory of Iraq, but now you have turned against it and sold it out for the first pile of greens that were shoved up your way. I don't want you to renounce America, we need them as much as you are afraid that they will leave, but I just want you to say the truth, for God's sake, like what Zeyad did, it didn't hurt, see? He's gone to the US just the same.


PROPRAGANDA! PROPRAGANDA! PROPRAGANDA!
A$$ - KI$$ER! A$$ - KI$$ER! A$$ - KI$$ER!


Pissed Off Iraqi

Looks familiar?

The picture is hauntingly familiar to the one in the previous post, then again, what is more like death than death itself?


I chose not to say anything when Mahmood al-Hashimi died, as as most of you say I may be biased, and in terms of Iraqi politics a person's best course would be to curse everyone in office and get it over with, but now I feel an obligation.


Today's morning, Amir al-Hashimi, brother of [Sunni] vice-president Tariq al-Hashimi was killed by a dozen of gunmen posing as security officers who broke into his house and killed him after disposing of his bodyguards.

This is the 3rd close relative of Tariq al-Hashimi to be killed in the past year, with his brother and his sister being the 1 and the 2.

and now I would like to talk about my father.

father was just like me in his early days, he even got as far in the imitation as having a bad haircut and playing godless American rock anthems on acoustic guitars until one day he smashed the guitar into pieces and found religion, which is where I seem to be heading.
Haji Amir, his architect friend and the good-natured SAINT who built al-Anbiyaa mosque and who was killed by Badr back in July 2005, was his first close friend to die in the unfortunate series of executions that followed, I shed tears for him though little I have known him, but for his good soul that is so hard to find in these black days, Mahmood al-Hashimi was his 2nd close friend to die. Although I did not know the guy then, but from the responses I got from my grandmother when she heard the news I could feel that he was just as good as Haji Amir.
And now Amir al-Hashimi, who was also a friend of father but not as close as these two.
When my father returned from his work today and heard the news, he immediately went to the balcony and sat all by himself, saying nothing, looking at the sky, I was afraid to look at him, and I experienced a cold shudder of sadness and molten anger.

I do not know Tariq al-Hashimi personally or his family relatives, but I know my father, and I know the sort of people he hangs out with, in the place where I come from, a religious person meant a guy who knew his rights from his wrongs, a person you could trust, a person who could never lie or steal ; my father never scolded me for my guitarplaying or forced me to wear certain things ever, and he has the sign of praying (a patch of changed skin on the forehead that results of much praying when the forehead touches the ground) on his face. The people who he hung out with were good, honest people, people you could really love, people of virtue. NOT the extremist, life-hating, vengeful caricatures Muslims have been cornered into, nor are they the pro-Baathist dictator scum Sunnis in Iraq have often been shoe-horned as.

Whenever I would go into a mosque and sit down after prayer I would feel the peace engulfing me, a calamity and understanding that becalms one outside the cyclone of life outside, the constant searching for meaning and answers...the tough-guy posturing and the struggle for bread.
But now these people are exterminated, exploited and destoryed in this meaningless Wahabi vs Rafidhi war.

Man, this is turning into an obituary.

On a much lighter note, errr....

errr...

....

"The nights of toil have stolen the smile of the lips"
"And years are spent in despair and eagerness"
"Yet, there still is hope in my spirits, never smoldered"
"And I feel my soul, still enfolded, and awaiting"
- Bassim

6/11

June 12, 2006 : a scene from the mourning ceremony - I am the guy with the transparent square mark on his face near the bottom left corner.


and click here to hear me leading the mourning rituals for a few seconds before being overcome by emotion:
http://www.badongo.com/file/1442062


When I look at the calendar, the blackest day of my year is June 11.
It is quite ironic that my personal tragedy bears more than a passing resemblance to the more collective one, all it takes is to turn the 6 upside down.

This post was published in a slightly modified version in my last New York Times group blog, I consider it one of my best posts to date.

In the movie “Syriana,” George Clooney labels the first Arab dude to appear in the film - a terrorist, naturally - as “son of a goat.” I have heard this “nickname” in other forms enough to assume it is more than a passing oddity. Since I am an Arab and proud of it, I am also a son of the goat, however, today I am allowed my right to speak. This is what I say:

Four of my friends were killed by a huge double roadside bomb that exploded in Karada on Sunday June 11. That’s right, four, count them … that is, if you can identify their bodies. Forever gone — can you imagine that? Since you are all comfy in your air-conditioned rooms sitting on armchairs, sipping Pepsi or Kool-Aid or whatever it is that you care to sip while your sons and daughters go safely to colleges and your spouses sleep in bedrooms million miles away from here, I’d like to take the opportunity to offer what it feels like to be insane amidst the apocryphal hell of Iraq, both weather-wise and people-wise.
I wish I could fill the rest of my article with expletives, but since I am writing for The New York Times, I can’t. So be it.
They were the best of people. Two of them, my best friends, were Shiites; another was Sunni and the other was Christian — an example of unity that can never be portrayed in a million years by the hypocritical fake advertisements they numb us with on TV. Three of them lived in the internal hostel because their families were abroad, and each one’s story is sadder than the other.
Ninos, the Christian, was perhaps the kindest person I ever met, the type that fills you with a warm glow when you speak with him … you connected to a forgotten fountain of happiness that was spurred by his natural do-goodness. He had just two weeks until he would have finished his final exams and returned forever to the safety of Kurdistan, where his Assyrian family resides.
Yahya was a Sunni from Mosul, also a nice guy: He could not even hurt the ground he stepped on. (He and Ninos were roommates, and were called “the saints” by their neighbors.) His family had moved to Egypt after being threatened. He had one week until he was to leave for home, and on top of that, get married. The girl in question is in our academic department. She is now in a state of paralysis.
The third, Hobi, was a Shiite of Turkish descent from Karbala. He was my best friend. The day before, I asked him if we could take a picture together since this was the last year of college and I would probably never see him again after he set off for Spain, where his mother lives. Little did I know I would get that picture, and that it would be a picture of his grave.
I remember precisely the moment when I got the phone call at 10:30 p.m. telling me that three of them were dead.* The time went very slowly. The room, just a minute earlier moist and extremely hot, became sullen and cold. In the living room Nancy Ajram was loudly assuring us of her undying joy and devotion, strangely out of context.
I went upstairs and wept alone. I wept all day, frequently looking at the mirror and gesturing incoherently … Robert DeNiro would’ve been ashamed …
The next day, while I was walking in the protest in which the three coffins were held up high and marched around the college courtyards, everyone was crying, everyone was shouting — it was a terrible sight. But when I heard the shouts “No! No to Terrorism!” up ahead, I didn’t feel a thing. They were exploiting us, we the people, we the good people of Iraq who never looked at our good friends as Sunni, Shia and Christian — these divisions did not exist. We cried for them together. We prayed the Islamic funeral prayer over all three of them, even though it is supposed to be unacceptable in Islam to pray for the Christian dead. I didn’t feel that I wanted vengeance towards Zarqawi in particular. I didn’t know why then, but I think I do now: because it is not only Zarqawi who is to blame.
My world has not been the same since that day. Everywhere I go there are small marks that bear their faces or actions of the past (like when England wins in the World Cup, of which Hobi was a great fan), and the lectures that Ninos used to make clear to us less-gifted students, and the countless pictures, tokens of a better time that I cannot bear to look at again. Even when I close my eyes to sleep, nightmares creep in and welcome me. Yesterday I dreamt I was killed by marines; before that I was abducted by militias … it goes on and on.
And there you sit, comfortable in your ignorance, sipping on your Pepsi and choking on your Burger King while I tell you the a story of one of those statistical body counts. You are to blame. Your ignorance was a major cause of all this.
I remember back in 2003, when the Americans were still treated as curious aliens. Children of all sorts walked to the American soldier, the proud, brave liberator … Strangely, he was Mexican in origin and the first question that he asked was, Sunni or Shiite? See what I mean? In my past three articles, you can clearly see that I went with the sectarian trend of my times, but now I see my grave mistake — it was a trend undoubtedly ignited, encouraged and adopted by the ignorant anti-terrorist-pro-divide-&-conquer U.S. liberals. It was with difficulty that I identified my friends today, my dearly loved friends, as “Shiite” and “Sunni” and “Christian.” I will never do that again.
Later that night, I printed out a glorious color picture of Abu Musab Al-Zarqawi, the flag of Iran, and the American star-spangled banner, put them one on top of the other in the backyard, the American flag on top of all, and set them all to flame … I didn’t feel a goddamn thing. I don’t consider my actions in the above paragraph justified, even morally correct. I apologize for that, but it’s the truth. Heck, I’m going to write to Bono to ask him if he can do a song about my friends, but I’m not hoping for much.
**
I said that four people were killed, but only talked about three. The last person, Saif, survived the explosion and was hospitalized with third-degree burns. I visited Saif that first day; his face was completely unrecognizable. He kept asking me about the fate of the three others, tears stuck at the corner of his eye. I told him they were fine.
Five days later, I had a dream where I met Sayoofi on the streets. He looked much healthier but somehow out of touch. I woke up giddy and expectant that day; He died that afternoon.
I did visit him on that last day and he told me the story of the explosion. It contained some interesting details :
Saif: “When the explosion occurred, the four of us were walking hand in hand. All of a sudden I felt myself hurled 50 meters in the air, and felt a severe burning all over my body. I wore a t-shirt which eased the pain on my arms; not so for my legs. All around me people were burning and moaning horribly; the stench was unbearable. I could still walk and I crossed the street, calling for anyone I saw for help. When I reached the other side, I flung myself in a pool of mud and water — people came and started throwing cold water on me. I had barely settled when a second larger explosion rocked the streets. I looked behind me and saw the building set to flames, Ninos [the Christian] was beside me: his face was white and something had entered his stomach.”
Here Saif stops with tears running down his face to ask me for the zillionth time about the other three. I tell him that they are resting just as he is.
As for the second explosion: that explains why the body of Yahya (the guy from Mosul) was so unrecognizable. When we saw him at the morgue, he was a big piece of coal. It’s likely that he did not have the luxury of walking away from the second explosion.
Saif: “Afterwards, a police vehicle came and picked both of us up; he drove a short distance before throwing us back on the streets, saying that he did not know the route! A passenger bus picked us up next. Ninos fainted and became very white [we now know that his lung was destroyed], then another police car picked us up. He dropped us at Ibn al-Nafees hospital, where they separated me from Ninos. They ignored me for half an hour and let me burn silently until I barricaded the nearest doctor I could find. My uncle worked in the hospital and he managed to transfer me to the Italian hospital [which is where we were now].”
Two important points: The first policeman was probably in on the explosion, which occurred near a jewelry store; he probably left my injured friends there to guarantee his share of the loot. Second, nothing works in Iraq except by connections (which got Saif into a better hospital). Even if Ninos’s injuries had been treatable, he probably would have died just the same because of negligence and the dirty conditions in the hospital.
***The last time I felt genuinely happy was ten days before the explosion, on Graduation Party day. When I look at the pictures now, they seem to be from a blurry and distant past. Many students from our class are packing up and leaving. I was a strong supporter of staying in Iraq before these events, because (a) call me stupid, but I loved my country, and living abroad sucked for a variety of reasons, and (b) unlike Zeyad, a rare case of someone who became a popular blogger and got accepted to journalism school in the U.S., I can only afford to work or study here in Iraq (in Amman, where my family resides, jobs are hard to find and school is expensive.) The truth is that even after the explosion, I was still undecided, but a story a friend told me the other day — a horrible, Hollywood-like experience that is too long to be told here — changed my mind permanently.
I am sorry, but nobody of sane mind can live here … We Iraqis have been so used to being kicked and dragged through the mud that we did not recognize the abyss in which we found ourselves. But there comes a time when you look around see your world for what it is and cannot take any more of it. I hate to be a whiner, but I tell you nothing but the absolute truth. Iraqis today are strange, sorry creatures — confused, constantly paranoid, and filled with distrust and hatred.
I wish I could tell you how can we fix this. Although the Americans had the upper hand, in my opinion, they no longer do — it’s been a lost in a sea of blood. When I return to our area these days from college, I come into a real-life “Vanilla Sky” ghost town — streets are vacant, some shops are open but their doors are near-shut and people with guns stand at the door. Shiite purging has finally reached us and it did not manifest in small ways: there is a dried pool of blood about 100 meters away from my house.
The only solution I can think of comes from an old Soundgarden song:
Black Hole Sun, won’t you come and wash away the rain

Iraq is Dead: A Snapshot of a week in hell

THURSDAY : (Entering Baghdad)
I left Amman in a nice sunny day, booked my flight - boarded my plane, the flight took an hour and a little more, everything went so smoothly, but the minute I stepped down of the plane I was immeidately whipped on the head by the unmistakable stench of Iraqi heat - a mixture of scroching hot sun, a rotten humid underscore that makes you want to grab the razors and even more scorching heat - It hit unapologetically and very buddy-like, and I immediately secretly wished that I would never be here.
and hereby begins the mockery of Iraqi Airport System.
half-hour long passport queues, messy customs, and my taxi driver gets sick of waiting and bails. I was expecting it, but it's never really the same except once you live it.
After another half-hour of fighting over taxis, which culminated in a second fight after we got the taxi because I rode with two dudes I don't know who happened to go to the same place (see how desperate) who refused to tip the taxidriver, ergo, of course, no taxi ever goes to the inside of Adhamiya anymore so he dropped me off at Nidaa mosque, the nearest placemark.
On the way, I took a glimpse of the forlorn streets of Baghdad, it was actually better than I expected, as the half-empty streets contained fragments of human presence every now and then, and the streets were busy and hectic - but I was told that this was because of the fact that it was Thursday, last day of the week.
I reached home, after a customary kiss-and-tell, the electricity went off. the generator was out of fuel so I had to refill from a half-filled 20-liters can, oh well, here we begin.

FRIDAY: I woke up, washed, dressed, then hit the mosque prayer, Friday was a curfew so nobody went by car, and since I went a bit late the street was empty, but not that EMPTY! it was desolate, like some scene from a Western movie. For the first time since I don't remember, the mosque wasn't filled to the brim...I actually managed to pray inside the mosque's actual building and not the courtyard, a first in god-knows-when. and I actually managed to listen to the speech this time!
When I got back home, Grandma Ta'iffiya already let loose of the friendly gossip of the latest death casualities on the civillian war front, check this sadly tragic story: A poor boy merchant who sells groceries is killed at the mostly Shi'ite district of Kamm, the grocery market on the outskirts of Adhamiya, while heading to the cemetery, the van has a tragic accident and the uncle dies, a week later, another son is kidnapped then killed, naturally. They make it to the cemetery this time, but the father looks upon the three tombs and then falls flat on top of them lifeless out of misery and shame, the mother, hearing this, goes into semi-paralysis and is still at the hospital.

This story alone is worth a post by itself, it is stories like these that make me curse our glorious nation indefinitely and take out an AK-47 and just kill about everyone in sight.

Disgusted with it all, I pretend to read for my upcoming final exam - which is a week soon.

SATURDAY: American vehicles have been passing sparodically at noon from our relatively uninteresting street. I spend the day refilling our two generators and buying fuel from a home-delivery gasoline dude. We buy 65 liters for 60 I.D.
At night, a bullet flies out of nowhere and breaks the lower glass pane in Grandparents' living room; triggering a plethora of jumping and squealing before start a body count and find out everyone's all right.

SUNDAY: I spend the day re-arranging Grandparents living room furniture, with the beds AWAY from the window as possible. American activity outside is increasing while I hear rumors of a crackdown tomorrow.
On a more cheery note, I finally have a pretext for walking half-naked around the house, which is something I couldn't do in normal-hot Amman and with five guys around in a small appartment, yay!

MONDAY: American soldiers close down the street and proceed to search an entire side of the streets while totally neglecting the other side (our side), this is apparently the case on all streets. They get into a house for like 10 minutes, stare around, ask about weapons, then put a small flag on your front door and go to the next house.

TUESDAY: I wake up, go to the kitchen, and before you know it, just when I leave the kitchen, the house is filled with born-and-bred Star-spangled Americans, along with four usual dirty policemen, they spend a confused two minutes at the living room, while two or three search the nearby rooms, a policeman tries to touch my guitar, while another US soldier finds out a book about CIA and gets unreasonably excited. They find out that Gpa was military ambassador at the US in the 50s and go nuts. when asked for weapons, Gpa whips out his 1950s revolver, they shrug and write no guns; we've already hid all the other weapons somewhere nice.
5 minutes after they leave, I dress in prepartaion for going to college, to find out that my mobile was stolen!
Apparently, one of the police commanders stole it while I wasn't looking - my phone looks very fancy (a Siemens X, called in Iraq the Scissors cuz of its extra keyboard and the way it folds) but is actually dirt cheap, anyway, I tried calling it but to no avail.
Tried going to college but after a very sweaty 15 minutes of walking I am sent back home by a nervous national guard who stops me halfway through the street.
Damn.

WEDENSDAY: I call my phone, a man with a very crude southern accent picks up after several rings and tell me not to call again or he will 'tear my ass'. Later that day, during a series of prank-calls in which we lost it a little, a neighbor calls up my number and tells the nice policeman that we have known all about him and his unit number and we will not rest until we fry onions on his bare naked bottom. I mimicked sounds of a US soldier in the back, the guy was as silent and nice as little girl on her first day of primary school.
Anyway, it was still not worth the trouble of tracking him down, although Adhamiya residents in general enjoy any clash with the Police commanders, so I called the mobile company and had the SIM card deactivated.
Electricity has been absent for 10 days.
------------------------------

Life in the past week has made me confirm many deductions which I have wished to God that will not come true, From the moment I felt the harsh, cruel wind slap me like an angry mother punishing her child for being so late to come home to the moment I am writing these words to you in a small net cafe which is the only shop open in a dark, scary street with no cars and small nearby children playing football, a once glowing, lively street with people that were living in a small world all of their own, I am filled with an immeasurable sense of loss and hate, HATE at everyone who took up an official seat and blurted words beyond a microphone. I am positive that my faith in my country has been shattered beyond repair once and for all...living in Iraq, you don't know how much of a mockery that statement is, life in Iraq is little beyond shadowy representations of life as you know it, it is madhalla, humilliation, I feel sorry for anyone who cannot leave this fucking shithole forever.

Yet sometimes, a strange delusion creeps up to my being, at times when I innocently forget about the hardships of life and the cruetly of time and laugh at a dirty joke with my neighbors, we are transported in a space-time continum in a dilirium of stupid happiness, when I fondly play soccer with the neighborhood kids while the local teenage mosque guards are about 10 steps away from us, holding their tense shotguns and pretending to be our saviors.

The last time I wished I could stay in Iraq was when I went to college, I met many friends who I haven't seen in months, we laughed, we cuddled, we talked girls, movies and football like the old days, and it was this that I really wanted, the way everyone should live - but even there in my enclosed atmosphere of the college, something sinister evokes the darkness, like the half-torn death sign of my four friends who were killed three months earlier, or the fact that half of our department are leaving abroad, including many college professors.

I am so full with despair and helplessnes - usually, I blurt out my anger with music, so I whipped out a Shi'ite latmia that never failed to move me, I don't dig the words, but the voice is incredibly mournful and is about the loss of the reverred Imam Ali, the Imam who was so fed up by his own Iraqi followers that he once said: 'Iraq is the land of shikakk and nifaak" (division and hypocrisy). I connect the bittersweet sadness that it invokes with the despair and confusion towards my own homeland, Bassim al-Karbalie should do our national anthem.

" I wish that on that day I was there
and neareth thine shrine I would renew my oath
and I will hold a ceremony for your tragedy and mourn thee
and cry like women who lost their sons on your loss in despair
Yet, I forgot you not, I live in your memory
My being from the distance of separation, O Aba al-Hassan, calls."

Lubnaan*

This post took some time to write, exactly why, because it is so confusing to be an Arab these days.
If something happens, you have to think very carefully what is your reaction to it.

Case in point: Hezbollah kidnaps 2 Israeli soldiers, Israelis cut the crap and whip they cracked.

and whip they cracked!

For three weeks now Israeli planes have wrecked havoc and destruction over the Lebanon, destroying many civillian buildings, killing women and children, moving about hundreds of families, havoc and destruction in all of it.

The Arabs(c) portrayed the usual crippled-man condemnation and aid funds, tricking themselves by listening to patriotic songs and the US entered gung-ho as usual with long-time fellow bedders and Nasralallah is pretty strident on the fight, with all his usual slurred 'r'.

Now, I wish I could say I am honestly touched, I wish I could say I feel your pain, my fellow brothers and sisters, but I would be a lying sonovabitch deep in the mud if I say that, of course, my heart occasionally contracts when a middle-aged blind man appears shocked and helpless, with his wife and kids while he half-sobs about how they were dragged out under the hells cracking above, or when I see real disturbing pictures that could drive your night ass-crazy when thinking about it


But then again, my remorse is little beyond the usual human sympathy for humans in distress, I am not genuinely touched and I know it - I have learned this from painful expereince: When three of the four dead friends were killed first, they were well-known and we had a big funeral march for them inside the college, it was terrible, with loud suffocaing shrieks and tears from many people, but when the fourth died a week later, nobody gave a shit, I particulalry remember a scene when Caesar of Pentra was in half-shock, crying, while a girl the deceased Saif (who was a fellow blogger, he managed to write two posts of the hapless variety before the unforunate incident) had the hots for walked by and laughed her mouth off.

So Lebanese people, long-known in the Arab world as masters of sexually liberated singers, you are on your own I am afraid. a Palestinian taxi-driver told me that he feels no sympathy for Lebanon because 'they get their money from being a collective whore's house'.

Stargazing Arabs at times like these like to talk about a story of al-Mu'tassim, an Abassid caliph, who changed the course of his army after a woman walked all the way from the city of Something to call for his help against the Crusades, he went back and liberated the city of Something.

I am not sad, but I wish I can, because if I am truly sad - then I would start to try and do something for my fellow people - this is a perennial problem with the Arab pattern of thinking, we have grown comfortable in our ostrich pillows of condemnation.

But this incident is different from the timeless one of Palestinians getting squached
,there is some extra math that must be done:

Given: Hezbollah is the brainchild of Iran in Lebanon.
Suggestion: Either Hezbollah strictly follows Iran's religious thinking or feels it helps to achieve a goal.
Now, Hezbollah is fighting Israel
Suggestion: We must support it.
But: Iran is perhaps the largest havoc-wrecker in Iraq.
Suggestion: Either we must not support Iran (e.g. not support Hezbollah, given that they are Iran's far-reaching finger), or Iran is not the Mulla-Frankenstein they be so mouthin about.
-----------------------------
See? it totally wrecks your system! you can't really make up a unified, universal law that applies to everyone and everything, we can do this all day with Hamas, Harith al-Dhari, al-Sistani....you name it.


While Nasrallah's rhetoric presents a more nationalistic, approchable take on the average Shi'ite Religious Leader, much better than al-Hakim's self-flagellating antiques or al-Sadr, who'd rather spend the day playing PS2, Hezbollah (nice name for a heavy metal band, btw) is a sidekick for Iran before all, who I am saddened to say follow a very members-only Shi'ite path to heaven, they will not all in all fit the Arabian Dream extravaganza.

Another way to go about it like some people did back in the Iraqi Invasion back in April 2003, they said : 'I ain't fighting for Saddam, I am fighting for Iraq', For the sake of all the women and children dead, and boy, don't these picture stir up the dangerous extremist shred in the hearts of Arabs? don't it tickle the Bin Laden in you?! Where is your pride? What happened to those who fought bravely before you and all that? O Mu'atiasim?!?

Of course, a good reaction is that we are now in the face of a common enemy, and by uniting in the face of it we will unite so help us God, however, it is wrong to cheer to someone just because he is attempting to achieve a common goal, this is just like how the Arabs, particulalry Palestinains, defend Saddam to death as an Arab hero - the moustached man knew how to manipulate them, throwing rockets at Israel with so sucky coordination that suggests he was training with marbles, so if Hezbollah fights Israel, my opinion is that we shuold not support them.


The problem first and foremost lies in us, The Arabs, don't blame the security council or the UN or all these World Policers, they only follow their own interests, wake up! They would only give a shit when you are THE shit. At the time being we do not have the ethical component neccessary to win, we do not have the driving inspiration of the nomadic Arabs who lived in the mainlands and who went about and ass-kicked two empires, the key solution first must be civil and domestic, we must regroup, restructure, we are weak and helpless, prefering to pursue worldly desires.

Forget sectarian differences, we should not support Hezbollah because, plain and simple, any violent struggle these days, will not solve or achieve anything.

Sayyed Qutb, the misunderstood Muslim Brotherhood Islamic thinker and writer who is often incorrectly described as the man behind the philosophy groundwork for fundamentalist groups such as al-Qaeda says: "After careful consideration, I come to conclude that any military efforts on the part of Islamic groups to create and Islamic society is fruitless and brings reverse results, the most correct approach is to attempt to reach out to the mainstream community, corrupted by Western (Jahililya) values and ideals, and attempt a civil and social reform."

Hezbollah deserves to be blamed for this war, their cause may be just and noble, but ultimately they have dragged a country and a nation that is not ready for this kind of confrontation, what has the resistance in Iraq achieved so far? did we gain anything from al-Falluja and ar-Ramadi? it only complicated matters.


The holy prophet (p) said : 'War is a trick', and Arabs must know how to trick, they must know who and when to fight, not just go mouthing off slogans they can't stand up to and pretending to be the all-conquering nation they once were.

*Lubnaan is the Arabic pronounciation of Lebanon.

Har

This makes fun of everything and everyone....It is hugely offensive, but is hugely hilarious as well, take your pick.


Osama and Saddam - video powered by Metacafe

The Wise and The Willing

Since my month-long absence, dozens of stuff crept up to my head, I bookmarked each and everyone for future posts, but, alas...
I am real lazy.
But aside of that, I managed to get my lazy ass safely to Amman two days ago, this is how it went, you can compare this post with Zeyad's own 'Amman' as they are somewhat different:

Having finished my final course exams, I am now obliged to pay a visit to my family who have more or less settled in Jordan; I have travelled over there 3 or 4 times in past two years, I couldn't go with them there as studying in Jordanian colleges requires money (for no good purpose, I am afraid, they're just as bad as the ones in Baghdad, in my friend's words: Here a donkey, there a donkey.) so I finished up my B.Sc. studies in Baghdad.
I digress, I travelled in the past by land, it is a horrible, horrific, catastrophic experience, considering its terminal ability to kill you out of boredom, hellish border stop which could go as far as 10 hours, and more recently the eclectic sectarain spices which added an ominous streak; thus, my ever-watchful parents were sold on travelling by plane, which I curiously wanted to try.

Iraqi Airlines, as Zeyad said, were booked until way along the line, this time to August, however, nothing is impossible for the wise and the willing, my grandmother knew a connection, and when I told her I wanted to fly out 'July 8', two days before July 8, she managed to squeeze me out a ticket, the customary price for a return ticket is 625$, but considering our most unusual 'squeezing' we had to fork an extra 100$ - a fitting tribute to administrative corruption.

Having arranged that, we had to land a taxi deal to take me to the airport, we negotiated one for the price of 35$, the route takes usually half-an-hour.

At July 8, I was waiting for my driver at 9 o'clock, he arrived at 9:30 o'clock after trouble broke out near his wife's residence, the route was surpisingly simple and straightforward, unlike what Zeyad had recounted: empty streets, followed by a lone dog-sniff, a singular vehicle examination and a simple luggage examination, I noticed that all of the checkpoint guards, the traffic men and everybody else knew my driver and made jokes with him, maybe it was that...

At 10:30, I was safely seated inside the Baghdad Intl. Airport, waiting for my 2:00 PM flight. the tough-as-nails driver gave me a wheezing advice: 'When Amman is announced, abandon all moral wise-assness and jump aboard, it is just like Allawi al-Hilla my friend', the latter being a ghetto-style bus station at Baghdad.

Having that hocus-pocus image of the airport in mind, I was keenly intent on getting inside any way possible, I made some small-talk with a nearby kid who pointed to an obviously newly-weds with the girl's family (the girl's head was on his shoulders and they were holding hands furiously, she was wearing a short skirt and the guy was feeling her touche, it was very unreal) and told me that they have stayed the night with them because their plane was full! It seems that the company prints a list of each flight listing the passengers names who will be on that list, as they book reserve seats for each flight, seemingly their names were not on that list, the kid told me that 25 people, including his family and Assfeel's, had to sleep the night in the cold, uncomfortable seats of the airport, they could not return home because no taxis were available after 6 PM and the road was dangerous, and all the airport personnel did to them was write on their tickets that they have 'stayed overnight' with a promise that all will be well tomorrow. I was afraid to look into the list.

As I said, the wise and the willing always finds his way, I thank God a million times for two things: France not winning the World Cup, and making me sit near the delegation folks:

By 12:30, I had did all I could to forget my tension ; I dug out a copy of Agatha Christie's The Clocks and was reading into it when I overheard people next to me wondering about their flight times: Supposedly there were two flights: 2 and 4 pm but one had 1:30 on his ticket, the other had 2:30, the third had 4:00 and I had 2:00 PM, as we laughed over that, I made some more small talk with them and found out that they were some sort of governmental delegation, real nice folks by the way, they told me that half the delegation was inside and that they are outside, but their 'connection' inside might be able to do seomthing, seeing them as my ticket out of here, I buttered my way with some nice-guy smile and joke before I asked them:
'How many of you are going in now?'
"Six"
"Why don't you make it seven?"
Some of them laughed, others were silenced at my audacity, in any case, the smily folks of them were real sugars and invited me onboard, especially after knowing that one of them was a distant encounter with my old man.
forcing my way in with them when they were allowed to go through, they reached their airline 'connection' who took the tickets, and returned half an hour later with the boarding pass, he also carried much expected news: 'The trip will be at 6 o'clock', apprently, the only plane they've got has to go to Basra, then to Sulaymaniya, then to Amman.
As my luggage was being loaded, the guy asked suddenly: 'Checked your name on the list?'
I said immediately: 'Yeah', I never did.

Push comes to shove and the time on the clock read 2:30 pm, we're in the Transit area, I broke connection with the delegation after my interest was fulfilled and managed to kill my boredom by pretending to be asleep, eating, or plowing more through The Clocks.
We finally boarded at 7:30 pm, both Assfeel and Kid's families were with us, but I shudder to think of the may people who were left behind....

The trip was better than I expected, the scenery wasn't much, basically Google Earth with a plane's wing, but the staff was very nice, they even gave out food and soft drinks (although the food was kinda modest, but it was still food)...the waitress wasn't hot, but was so very kind.

At Jordanian Queen Aaliyah, they made us wait for 30 minutes before stamping the passports, some of the passengers were grumbling but I found it very natural, in my past travels, these took sometimes 7 hours...

New this time were questions about my tribal name, there were no reactions as my tribe was a mixed Sunni-Shi'ite, and a fingerprint thingy with a camera snapshot. I've heard dozens of stories about Iraqis between the ages of 19-25 returned or held in the airport, but as I said, the wise and the willing always finds his way.

I was through, my old man was waiting for me downstairs, he was praying at a small mosque nearby...he has grown fatter, but somewho healthier. I really missed him, and in a flash regretted all my rebellion agenda and quarrels, and hugged him in a loving embrace.

Kid escapes Death

It was probably June 14, two days after my four friends were killed. We decided to hold a funeral for them in the college, I remember being a cold sense of detachment from the world and everything in it...I quickly dressed in ALL OUT BLACK. Black shirt, black pants.
Looking at myself in the mirror, I realized the danger in my uniform, so I opened the buttons of the shirt, reavealing an olive vest underneath! cool, now not only I am in the Mahdir's Army, but also a member of the army.

I whatthefucked and hurled ass out, after all, I was just going to go up the street and rent a taxi...
I told you earlier, I was so detached, however, as soon as I walked to the tip of the street, I changed my mind, and decided to return home.

Tough luck. Three dudes about my age in small motorbikes (lovingly called Bestas in iraq) came lazily behind me, passed me a little bit, then barricaded me.

The guy who was directly at my center was dark of tan and ugly of teeth, he was obviously the leader, his teeth stuck out, Ronaldinho-style. He calmly said :
"Salamaalikum"
I replied, calmly too : 'Aalkumsallum'
'What are you doing here?'
'I am returning home.'
'Where is your home?'
'Near the mosque'
'What mosque?'
The mosque was small and had two name changes, I took a wild bet and after a moment of hesitation I spoke the latter.
He paused for a moment, and then:
''Hop on, let me drive you home'
I was a little panicked now.
'Wait a minute, this is my area, right here is house of Mr. A'
He didn't answer
'I am going to a funeral ; I was just going to pick up a taxi'
It was certain they all carried guns underneath their casual clothes. It is also of no coincidence that they chose to do this here, the place was adjacent to an abadonened farm, where bodies are regularly found, our street witnessed about 10 deaths in the very same area. Even if he bought I was of the area, he could kill me if he thought I was a Shi'ite.
'Show me your wallet'
I showed him, my attitude was a smily nice dude.
'Here's my wallet, and ID'
My first name is neutral, but my second is somewhat more of a Sunni name, although Shiites do name it every now and then. It was not proof enough in my opinion.
The only ID i regularly carry is not my Civil ID, it is my college ID.
The second guy asked, he was more of a wiseguy:
'What's this ID?'
'It's my college ID, university of [Cornyname]'
'What?'
'[Cornyname]'
'What??'
'[CORNYNAME]', he was enjoying this. but the first guy nodded in approval with me
'Cornyname'....
he looked through the wallet, took out the money, looked in the sidepocket where I keep my keys, asked of my other pocket, I showed him my mobile.

'Okay, you're free to go' He returned the wallet, and the money. My impression of him was somewhat positive.
They could still shoot me when I turn my back, but there was a certain change of pace that I recognized that they really are going to let me go.
Ronaldino said, as an aftertaste: 'You're wearing black...'
I quickly said, arms out 'You really think I am THAT stupid if I was of them sonovabicthes?'
'At least you could look more neat'
This was true, my shirt was open and my hair was unshaved, I could pass a decent slipper-torn Madhi's servant anywhere. In a sense, they had a right to stop me, precautions matter, I could only be thankful that the dudes who stopped me had some time to think it over.
'Well, the guys were killed yesterday and I am pissed'
'How?' The wiseguy asked, the third guy was just compars.
'Karrada explosion'
'That's terrorists work' but the side-cracking smile on his face strongly added another dimension to his sentence.
'Okay, bye'.

On thinking it over, I think subconsciously that day, I wanted to die. I was so filled with meaninglessness that day I just wanted it all to end, I couldn't imagine that a living person I talked to just the other day could just vanish....

Shit.

I returned home, and some of the ominous dirge of the past 10 minutes caught up with me, I murmured in quick prayers, but in an hour or two I managed to forget about it.

I changed.

I arrived in college, attended the symbolic funeral and was about to return home when a few friends took me aside and told me not to wear that shirt I am wearing right now again.

'What for?'
'Are you crazy? How could you dare to wear a blue shirt, that's the sign of the FPS police, they could kill you second.'

Shit? You bet your fucking ass!

They didn't understand why I was laughing, you can't dress black, can't dress blue, can't even dress the collegeboy's white after the recent killings....well, that's Iraq for you.


I apologize, I haven't told you about my friends' murder, I have no energy to discuss it again! even if I wanted to, I wrote it twice, and one of them was for the NYT, so I can't publish it.

Maybe I could work it out sometime, but not now.