Yes or yes

They were hard times for him and for us.
He had lost a war and was betrayed by his family and we were angry and exhausted from the war and embargo, and depressed from the economic recession.
We desperately needed action and he knew exactly what should be done.

It was just a normal day in 1995, when a meeting of the Revolutionary Command Council was broadcasted on TV. Nothing unusual on the evening program, but the announcement at the end was rather unexpected: The Iraqi people will be able to prove to the whole world their love and support to the president by a presidential election.

Wow, what a phrase “presidential election”.
I was surely not the only one in Iraq who never thought of hearing that kind of announcement. We were surprised and started puzzling; “Will there be more than one candidate?”, “Who is that crazy to run against him?”, “Maybe some fake candidates will be assigned just for the show?”, “What if he really allowed others to run for elections and one of them won the election? Would he concede?”, “Is it a planned act to hand over the power to one of his sons?”, “Is he tired and willing to resign?”, “Is it a clever move to get the UN’s attention and end the embargo?”
So many questions on everyone’s mind. Fortunately we did not have to wait for long to get the answers.
Soon the rules of the game were announced. There will be no other candidates than Saddam Husain himself. The election will be on October 15th and the Iraqis will have to answer one question with “yes” or “no”
The question was: “هل توافق على أن يكون الرئيس صدام حسين رئيساً للجمهورية؟”
Which translates into: “Do you agree that President Saddam Hussein be the President of the Republic?”
Not really a lot of options to choose from, but at least we knew he still held on to power and he was not handing it over to one of his two sons. At least not for now.

So, basically it was a referendum rather than an election. I didn’t really know the difference between the two words before that event.

Anyway, the preparation started and the streets were filled with people shouting “yes, yes, to our leader Saddam Husain”.
It was like a competition for who shows the greatest support. Praising songs and poems were broadcasted on the radio and TV the whole day, as well as interviews showing people on the streets promising eternal loyalty to the president.
The members of the Ba’ath party visited each home and registered the residents eligible to vote.
Every Iraqi citizen over 18, in a stable mental health and without criminal record was allowed to vote.
So for our household, all three of us were invited to vote in a voting centre, that was in a primary school nearby.
Before  the Ba’ath party men left, one of them said: “of course we are sure you will make the right choice on the voting day”.

Meanwhile rumors about planned manipulation of the referendum started to circulate; stories like: “They will have cameras in the voting booths and “no”-voters will be immediately imprisoned” or “Someone will check every envelope as soon as it’s thrown in the box to identify the people voting “no” and to punish them later” were spread around among the citizens.

Soon, the 15th of October came and it was one big party day in Iraq. Music was playing in front of the voting centres. Some people were showing their loyalty by marking the “yes” space on the paper with a bloody fingerprint instead of making the cross with a pen. 

The election officials were very helpful and friendly. I went into the booth, made my cross on „yes“, gave the paper in the envelope and dropped it in the voting box.
Why “yes”? Well, what was the other option?
I really searched for cameras in the booth but didn’t find any. If they were there, they must have been extremely tiny. I doubt we had such technology then, but why play with fire. 

I even don’t think anyone had the chance to open the box after each voter, since the people were coming and going continuously, and the committee was never alone. 

Everything seemed to match the international standards.
Soon, the counting started, and our district had 100% “yes” votes. The only problem was that I knew at least two in our neighborhood who swore that they had voted “no”.
Manipulating was easier than we thought. The “no’s” were just not counted. No district wanted to have the most negative voters.
One of our relatives was so upset her “no“ was not considered, that she almost reported herself.

The next day, the final count was published. 99.96% voted “yes”. This was the result of the votes of about 8 million Iraqis. In the evening, a song was run on TV that started with the phrase: “ninety nine and ninety six percent …“ this song was played for so long, that I don’t think I would ever forget the result of this referendum.

Saddam showed up on TV happy and satisfied. At least we didn’t disappoint him the way his sons-in-law did. And who knows maybe he really thought the result was out of pure love.

There was one more referendum before 2003, but I don’t have a lot of memories of it, maybe because it wasn’t that spectacular anymore or because the drums of war were beating too loud that I was distracted.

Note: looking up the dates before writing this story, I read the Wikipedia article of the referendum. I noticed two things: first, the Arabic article was very short and had poor information, which surprised me because who, if not Iraqis, should write the full and exact facts about the country.
After reading the terms of editing Wikipedia articles, it was clear that being a time witness is not an acceptable reference. One must write a book first and then refer to it.
Second: in the English article that was quite long and detailed, it was written that: “Saddam himself never appeared in public prior to the election, but paid supporters streamed through the streets, shouting „Naam, naam, Saddam“ („Yes, yes, Saddam“)”
The people were never paid; they were instructed to show support and they did. Mostly the people on the street were school children who were happy to miss class, the district Ba’ath party members and the labor unions.





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Waving to the Lost Presidents

It must have been the 15th or 16th of February 1989, when I came to school in the morning, as usual, and immediately noticed that we will not take our lessons that day. There were buses waiting outside the school and a couple of students were standing at the school entrance, telling everybody to drop their school backpacks in the classes and gather in the school yard.

It was obvious that we were going to march on a „spontaneous“ demonstration, as they were called by the media. Well, it was spontaneous, wasn’t it?

Soon, the girls of „Al-Qadissiya Middle School“ filled the school yard, as if it was Thursday morning when we used to gather for the weekly flag ceremony. The principal came out and turned on the microphone. The mic made an earsplitting sound, then she knocked on it twice to split our eardrums even more, and finally she started talking: „ahm, ahhhm, good morning girls! Today is an important day; we will have the honor to welcome three great personalities in Baghdad: the king of Jordan, the president of Egypt and the president of North Yemen. I’m sure you have heard about the upcoming event on TV. They are coming to Iraq to sign an agreement to establish the Arab Cooperation Council.“

She talked a lot about the advantages of this agreement and that it was going to be a historical moment and so on, but I didn’t really listen. It was eight in the morning, time for daydreaming in the first lesson, not standing in the fresh morning breeze to listen to political blah blah.

The really important information to us was when she said: „A lot of the students in Baghdad will celebrate this historical event by lining up on the road sides to welcome the arriving guests. The busses will take us now and we should be back to school at noon!“

Any event that kept us from studying was welcome. We didn’t really mind leaving school. We got into a bus and were taken to the main street that led from the airport to the city center.

The whole road was closed off for traffic. The teachers distributed paper flags of the four countries to us and we took our places on the sandy road bank behind the crash barriers. It was still cold in February but it wasn’t very bad since we stood in the sun. At first, we were chatting all the time and looking at the road, waiting excitedly to see the presidents and the king. But after two hours of waiting, we started to get bored, tired, thirsty and our feet started to ache. Then the rumors started going through the rows of students: „The plane of president Mubarak was delayed.“; „They’ve arrived and took another way.“; „We will stay here till late afternoon.“ and a lot more. I always wondered where such rumors came from. We had no mobile phones at that time, nor a Walkie-Talkie. Nothing could possibly bring this information from the airport to us. Was there someone standing somewhere, saying something and enjoying his words traveling through the masses? I never figured it out and I’m afraid this will stay an unsolved mystery for me.

Anyway, the real trouble was that most of us started to get very thirsty, so a teacher went to a house nearby, rang the bell and asked them for water. A woman came out with a bottle of water and a tray of cups. From almost every house of the neighborhood people came out offering us water, food and even asked if we needed to use the toilet or the phone. These gestures made waiting much easier.

I don’t know how long we waited till the motorcade appeared at last. It was led by many police motorcycles, followed by a lot of black Mercedes cars with the security staff, and in the middle, the car carrying president Saddam Hussein and one of the guests. I think the first was king Husain of Jordan. We waved, clapped and we sure called out some slogans that I don’t remember anymore. When that convoy passed, it was clear that only one guest was going to be escorted at a time, which meant more waiting and standing on the road side for us.

Time passed somehow and we waved for Mubarak, the president of Egypt and for Salih, the president of Northern Yemen. After the last guest arrived, the exhausted mass of students returned to the buses and the road was opened for traffic. When I came home I had blisters on my feet and I was starving.

The next day, pictures of that historical meeting of the three presidents and the king were all over the newspapers. The most popular picture was one on which the four of them are seen holding each other’s’ hands and raising them in the air; a photo, that soon became a symbol for the beginning of a new era of unity and peace in the Arab world. At that moment, no one would have thought, that except for king Husain of Jordan, who lived and died as a king, the rest of the members of the Cooperation Council would fall, one after the other in very unfortunate ways.

The light of hope that was lit in Baghdad on the 16th of February 1989 didn’t last for long. The work of the Arab Cooperation Council was put on ice after Iraq’s invasion of Kuwait in 1990 and was never resumed again.