war Archive - Let me tell you

Hate

Veröffentlicht am 8. Juli 20249. Juli 2024 von RanaSchreib einen Kommentar

On my way home, a priest was standing next to me on the tram. He was talking in an American accent to another man, whom I couldn’t see from where I was sitting.
I didn’t really pay attention to their conversation until I heard the phrase „I worked for the US Army“.
Now their talk had my full attention. From what I heard, it seemed to me that the man behind me had been in the US Army for some time.
A strange feeling came over me and I thought, what if we had met before in a completely different situation. He, flying a plane full of bombs over Iraq, and I, lying in the bad, holding my children as close as I could, praying that the pilot would not drop bombs on us.
My body began to shake, I had to take a deep breath and I turned around to look at his face. I was relieved. He was too young to have fought in 1991 or even 2003.

This short scene brought back a memory and a feeling I hadn’t felt in years.
I remembered a cold March day when I was sitting on the terrace of my in-laws‘ modest village house, washing our clothes in a plastic washtub. My hands were sore from the cold water. I was in a hurry to finish the laundry because my children were playing in the house and I was afraid that the next air raid would start while I was away from them.
There was a distant plane in the sky. But it seemed to be heading for Baghdad. I followed it with my eyes, calculating the distance, if it would change direction, and the time I would need to run inside to my children.
But it kept moving away.
I wondered how the pilot felt. Coming from a country as far away as the United States, knowing nothing about Iraq except what he thought he knew. And it seems that he believed that every single person under his plane deserved to be killed by the bombs he was about to drop.
He may even have believed that he was a hero. Superman in the sky, killing all the bad people with the push of a magic button.
What would he do if he knew us personally? If he had eaten with us at the same table or danced with us to the same music? What would he do if he knew our names, if he played UNO or backgammon with us? Would he still push the button?

What kind of people does he think we are?
Can he even imagine how we suffered during the years of the embargo?
How broken and depressed we were?
Would he go home and tell everyone, „I did so well. You must be proud of me. I killed about 50 Iraqis a day just by flying my plane and pushing a button. I didn’t care who they were or how old they were. They were the evil ones and they deserved death.“
Everyone around him would be impressed, and they might raise a glass and toast his bravery.

I felt hatred, yes, I hated with all the intensity of that word. I hated this man who crossed the world to drop bombs on us, a man who controls our destiny from above, who could kill my children or make them orphans. I wished his plane would burn up in the sky and turn him to ashes before he could drop a single bomb. I wished he would never return to the United States and be celebrated for killing Iraqi people. My weakness before his power filled me with this ugly feeling of hatred. The worst feeling a human being can have for another human being.
I did not have the power he had, but in my mind I wanted to destroy him as much as he could destroy us.
His plane disappeared from view.
My focus returned to the laundry. I missed my washing machine, the electricity, and our home in Baghdad.
I hung the clothes on the ropes hanging between the palm trees and ran into the house where my children were playing. I sat down on the floor and joined them.

The priest and the young US Army man stopped talking about the Army and the Marines and started arguing about the way and their next tourist spot in Vienna. I stuck my headphones in, turned the music on and started writing this story.

The Old Man and the Sea

Veröffentlicht am 19. Mai 202220. Mai 2022 von RanaSchreib einen Kommentar

It must have been October or November 1980, when this story took place.

I was grocery shopping with my mother in Shawwaka, an old district in the Center of Baghdad, located by the Tigris side, and known for its beautiful old buildings and big market area. Some of the buildings looked so fragile, that one would wonder how people could live in them, without being afraid that they would collapse by the slightest wind blow. The shops on the side of the market facing the river were mainly fishermen shops, selling either fish or fishing equipment.

Because of the fish smell and the crowded narrow streets, this market was not really a place I liked. I was walking closely to my mother and hoping to go home soon.

Suddenly the sirens went off and an ugly loud black air fighter appeared in the cloudless blue sky. We panicked, just like everyone else on the street. My mother took my hand and moved quickly, trying to find a place to shelter us. In that moment, an older man, who sold fishing equipment, came out of his small shop, and waved to us to get into his shop.

We stood inside. My whole body was shivering while watching and listening to the aircraft booming right in front of us. Soon, the Iraqi air defence started shooting anti-aircraft missiles up to target, the invading air fighter.

The kind old man noticed my fear and tried to distract me by showing me the different types of fishnets. He told me that he was a fisherman and that the fishnets were all hand made by him. His talk drew my attention to the world of fishing and made the war around me seem like a far background sound.

I only looked up again, the moment he stared at the sky, to see the Iranian airplane flying away covered by a dark grey smoke cloud.

Moments later, people started getting back on the streets as if nothing had happened, and the sound of the ending siren mixed with the sound of the ambulance car sirens moving fast to the bombed locations.

The man gave me a piece of a fishnet. My mother thanked him for hosting us and she immediately stopped a taxi to take us home.

Years later, when I read the book “The old man and the sea”, the picture in my mind of the old man, was that of the old fisherman of Shawwaka.

What if she will rest in peace?

Veröffentlicht am 3. April 20223. April 2022 von RanaSchreib einen Kommentar

Madeline Albright, who served as the US Secretary of state from 1997 to 2001, died at the age of 84 surrounded by family and friends.

Statement from the family of Madeleine K. Albright

The tweet, posted by her family, also said “We have lost a loving mother, grandmother, sister, aunt, and friend.”

Missing in the tweet was the fact that the loving mother and grandmother was, among other, responsible for the death of more than half a million Iraqi children and the destruction of the Iraqi community.

She was once asked in an interview, if this high child death count was worth it. She answered: “I think this is a very hard choice, but the price–we think the price is worth it.”

Later she apologised for what she said with the words: “As soon as I had spoken, I wished for the power to freeze time and take back those words. My reply had been a terrible mistake, hasty, clumsy and wrong. Nothing matters more than the lives of innocent people. I had fallen into the trap and said something I simply did not mean. That was no one’s fault but my own.”

Well, she apologised for what she said but not for what she did.

She never publicly regretted the killing of the Iraqi people by the sanctions, that had no reason after the withdrawal of the Iraqi troops from Kuwait at the end of the 1991 war.

Iraq’s military power and infrastructure were destroyed by the war. The long embargo after that, was soon proven a useless method against the ruling authority. It’s only effect was to totally destroy the Iraqi community, the cause that made Iraq a cradle for all evil after finalising the catastrophe with the 2003 war and the removal of the authority that was, more or less, holding everything together by force and fear.

The US troops came on the pretext of mass destruction weapons and promised to give the Iraqi people the “freedom” they didn’t ask for, because they had no time to think of freedom when they desperately needed food, medicine, and stability. No wonder “freedom” turned into “anarchy” and “instability”.

The late Ms. Albright had enough time to observe the effects of her decision and to at least beg for forgiveness for what she had done. Well, she decided not to regret and to give excuses and free herself from the responsibility. She left the world, that she made a worse place for so many others, to rest in peace.

And I ask myself “What if she will really rest in peace?”

Changing History

Veröffentlicht am 5. März 202217. Mai 2022 von RanaSchreib einen Kommentar

In the middle of the Ukrainian crisis and all that’s happening in the world right now, I keep seeing a lot of parallels with what happened in August 1990. Back when Iraq invaded Kuwait under the leadership of Saddam Hussein.

A large country, economically exhausted, turning the eyes of the world towards it, by invading its much smaller neighbour country.

And although it was no surprise, it was a surprise.

What started as a power show-off turned into an invasion. An invasion like the invasions those same leaders were condemning days before.

To justify the occupation of Kuwait, a long list of reasons was presented: “Kuwait was originally part of Iraq”, “The people of Kuwait wanted to get back to the roots”, “The leaders of Kuwait threatened to ruin Iraq’s economy” and many more reasons.

I was raised in Baghdad since 1980, when I was 6 years old. I got the full Ba’ath education in school. I was a believer. I sang the national songs, I Saluted the flag every Thursday in school and I loved Baba Saddam. But on the 2nd of August 1990 everything changed. All that I believed in, in the provirus 10 years fall apart in few weeks.

After years of praising the Arabic dream of unity, brotherhood and the one united Arab nation from Morocco to Iraq, the Arab leaders started fighting on the media and uncovering all the hidden ugly sides of each other. Almost all were against Iraq, with some exceptions. Manly because of financial dependencies. Simulator to the political situation today. All against Russia except for some few real “good friends”.

Suddenly the leaders of the Arab countries were no longer respected brothers on the Iraqi news. President Hosni Mubarak was Hosni El-Khafif (meaning “loose Hosni”), the King of Saudi Arabia, the custodian of the two holy mosques, toured into the custodian of the Americans and the prince of Kuwait was the sick man who wanted to marry his daughter because he didn’t know her, having to many wives and children to recognise all of them.

One of the defining events, that made me abhor my country’s politics, was, when the teacher asked us to go to the school library, open all the books, deleted the words “county of Kuwait” and replace them by the words “the governorate of Kuwait”. My friend and I argued with the teacher, that we should not change history. The time the book was published it was a country. Even if it is now considered a governorate, it is not a reason to change the past and maybe soon it will be a country again? (We didn’t add: Since the whole world is preparing for the war, to free Kuwait). Our teacher just said: “Stop talking. These are orders from the ministry. Just do it!”. “And use pens. The change must be permanent!”, she added. Our hidden protest was that we used pencils and just crossed out the words with a light line.

For me, and maybe a lot of other Iraqis, the world before the invasion of Kuwait was a totally different one, than the world I woke up to, on that black August morning in 1990.

The latest events have brought back this bitter feeling of disappointment.

I see a lot of similarities but differences too. The similarities in escalating the conflict internationally instead of diplomatic de-escalation. The world starts arming like crazy. The news split the fighting parties into the good guys and the bad guys depending on the channel one is watching. The UN make sanctions that mostly cause the poor to become poorer and the megalomaniac to get crazier. While the US plays the role of the hero that will rescue the world, even though they have poured the most oil into the fire the first place.

The big difference now is the fact that this time the villain is the mighty leader of Russia and not the leader of Iraq. When Saddam threatened to destroy the world, the world knew exactly what he possessed and how efficient it was. An Austrian, working for a German company in Iraq once said: “We can sell to Iraq every weapon we want, as long as it is missing some bolts, if you know what I mean!”. While Putin’s threat, of making the world see what it had never seen before, is real. Especially if 30 countries led by the USA would try to free Ukraine with a military act.

To mention here is that, when the US invaded Iraq with false reasons and committed one war crime after the other, Bush jr. was not represented by the media as the bad guy. No sanctions were made on the US, no boarders or airspaces were closed, and the international criminal court will never charge him.

I had a relative who used to say: “same, same but different!”. Maybe this brings it to the point.

The Name of the Father and the Son

Veröffentlicht am 9. Dezember 20189. April 2020 von RanaSchreib einen Kommentar

George Bush senior passed away on Friday the 30th of November 2018, at the age of 94.

That was the first headline I read last Saturday morning, when I was checking the news on my mobile phone. I looked at his picture and automatically said: „May God take him in his mercy.“ This is a common phrase we use in Arabic when someone dies. But as it came out of my lips, I thought to myself: „Would I take him in my mercy?“

Bush (no matter senior or junior) is a name that, to me, will always be associated with embargo, war, destruction, bombing, no electricity, fear and so on, in other words, an endless list of very dark memories.

I would never deny that the invasion of Kuwait was a crime in its entire means, but the embargo and the wars on Iraq that followed weren’t any less of a crime. And they proved that diplomacy and good offices, unfortunately, fail in resolving critical problems.
If wars were given grades for their badness level, the „Operation Desert Storm“ would deserve an „A“ with an extra plus for the bombing of „Amiriyah shelter“ and the „highways of death“ the massacre of the withdrawing soldiers.

It is scary that some people on earth may gain such an enormous power in their lifetime that gives them the mightiness to act like Gods. In a way that a single decision they take could mean misery and death for millions.

It was the 17th of January 1991, when Bush senior spoke his word and the war on Iraq started. After the dramatic events, since we woke up in the morning of the 2^nd of August 1990, to find out that our troops have walked in to Kuwait and changed our status among the nations, to the most hated country on earth, the final act (as we thought at that time) started. And while most of the world watched the famous night camera recording on TV, showing a scene that looked more like fireworks than the actual hell it was, the Iraqi people were being targeted by those „firework“.

I’ll never forget that night. We woke up to the sound of bombing and shooting all around, the sirens didn’t stop crying and the dark night sky was filled with smoke and fire. Realizing that the promised war had started, we gathered in one room and sat stuck to one another. I was shivering from head to toe, covered in a thick blanket and praying to God not to be struck by next rocket. Fortunately my family and I survived, but a lot of people, who weren’t as lucky, lost their lives during this war. That day covered Iraq in a veil of poverty, destruction and death that it is still trying to get rid of.

War is always the wrong choice. There is nothing like a „good war“ and a „bad war“. Even if the first statement of Bush was: „As I report to you air attacks are on their way against military targets in Iraq.“ We all know today that the fire that fell from the sky burned a lot more than just military targets.

These thoughts and memories occupied my mind that whole day, as I kept seeing the headlines of Bush‘s death everywhere and the words of condolences that were spoken out for him. Then shortly before going to bed, I saw a post on Instagram, picturing the Kuwait towers lit up with the American flag and a portrait of Bush. It was subtitled with the words: „In memory of George W. Bush. Hero of freedom.“
An aspect that didn’t come to my mind earlier that day. But yes, of course, he must be a hero in Kuwait: he freed the country. It’s their right to celebrate him. My villain is their hero. Just two sides of one coin.

What a strange world I’m living in. Being responsible for crimes, such as the horrible death of more than 400 civilians (mostly women and children) in the „Amiriyah shelter“, does not mean a person won’t be honored and celebrated as a hero.

Well, I guess he doesn’t really need my mercy to rest in peace.

The birds will fall from the sky

Veröffentlicht am 20. Mai 201720. Mai 2017 von RanaSchreib einen Kommentar

„There are things that should never ever happen.“ That was my thought, when I heard the terrible news about the use of chemical weapons in Syria a few weeks ago. As usual, my mind took me back to a certain memory of an unforgettable day in Baghdad.

When it became clear that war was coming, we had several information sessions at school on war preparation measures. Usually, those sessions were held in class with a teacher or on Thursdays at the weekly flag ceremony. But a few days before the 17th of January 1991, we had a big gathering in the school theater and a military officer held a presentation about safety measures in relation to the possible weapons that will be used in the war.

At the beginning, he asked us to listen carefully and to spread the information he was about to tell us, among our families and relatives. Then he went on with a speech about the recent situation and why the occupation of Kuwait was the only right decision the Iraqi government could make. He said things like: „bringing back what once belonged to us“, “ bringing the branch back to the tree“, „The Kuwaiti people are happy to be united with Iraq“ and so on, but really neither he nor anyone in the hall seemed to be convinced of what he was saying.

Even we, the teenage school girls, who grew up with the propaganda of the Baath party since our first school day in 1980, were aware that what happened was a terrible mistake and what would follow would be even worse.

Anyway, he finished the mandatory opening speech and started talking about the preparations we should make in the coming days; starting from buying canned food and medicine, storing water and fuel and ending up with setting a safety room in the house in case of the use of chemical weapons in the upcoming war.

This was the longest and most scary part of his presentation. There was a strange silence in the hall, that was full of some hundred girls under 18, who all looked at him with wide eyes as he said: „Every house should arrange a room for that case. The windows and all air circulation gaps should be sealed with big plastic sheets and tape. The room should contain bottled water, medicine, a radio that runs on batteries and canned food.“ He went on explaining that there are two kinds of common chemical weapons: skin burning gases like mustard gas or Nervous-system-destroying gases. In case of an attack with chemical weapons, the siren will repeat the starting signal three times, all people should immediately gather in their safety rooms, seal the door and open the radio to get further instructions. It is advisable to look out of a window to observe the effect of the gas on animals, „At first the birds will die. They will fall from the sky. From the dead birds‘ bodies, you can determine which gas was used; either they would have burns on their bodies or there would be fluids coming out of their body orifices.“ He continued talking about the effects and the ways to stay safe as long as possible.

But his methods didn’t convince me. If this was really going to happen, we would end up dying in one of the most horrible ways to die.

At this point, I remembered what a classmate said to me that morning: „Yesterday my father got a gas mask in the office. The authorities handed out one for each employee.“ She added: „He came home, placed the mask on the table and said ironically: „I got one mask for all six of us. Cheer up! We will survive the war.“
Then he turned to my mother and said: „I know exactly how I will use it. I have enough bullets in my gun to save us from suffering. In case of a chemical attack, I’ll put on the mask and shoot us all.““ Finally she said in a sad voice: „My mother looked really shocked and told him not to talk like that in front of us. Then they went into the kitchen and closed the door. I have never seen my father as depressed as I saw him yesterday.“

Listening to the presentation, I understood what her father meant by saving the family from suffering. I thought of my family. We had neither a mask nor a gun at home. My stomach started aching.

When I came home from school, I found my mother and sister arranging my mother’s sleeping room as a shelter. My sister had a similar information session at the university. I put down my schoolbag and joined them. We covered the windows with plastic sheets, and we talked about what we will do in the room if we are forced to stay in it for a long time.

Somehow, we started joking and having fun taping the windows. We didn’t store food and water in the room, there was still time to do so, but we prepared games like Uno and Ludo, knitting stuff and books. We managed to prepare for a disaster with a happy mood. The stomachache went away and I felt strong, safe and sheltered with my family.

A lot of things happened in Baghdad since January 1991 but the birds kept flying and the safety rooms were never used.

Years later, a lot of houses still had marks of brown tape around some windows to remind us of a war that should never been given a reason to happen.

Empty Streets

Veröffentlicht am 25. März 201726. März 2017 von RanaSchreib einen Kommentar

The sunny, but still cold, spring weather we had the last few days in Vienna, brought back memories of the sunny winter days in Baghdad. I was thinking of one particular Friday morning in 1995, which stayed in my mind as if it was yesterday. That morning, it must have been at the end of February, I drove my car to my relative’s house in Waziriyah to have lunch. The weather was still cold but the sun rays warmed up the spots they fell on. I loved driving on Fridays, with the streets almost empty, my mind could run free.

During that time, Iraq was still trying to recover from the severe damages of the war in 1991. A lot of rebuilding and construction work was going on all over the country and people had somehow learned to adapt their lives to the ongoing embargo and the isolation from the rest of the world.

On my way from Mansour to Waziriyah I passed by the „Baghdad International Fairground“. Seeing the long line of flagpoles made me think about the big difference in the number of exhibiting countries before and after 1990. The number of participating countries decreased so much that the name „International“ wasn’t really suitable anymore. The gloomy feeling that joined this thought was wiped away, when I turned right into Al-Zaitoon Street (in English Olive street). This broad way surrounded by olive trees and date palms had a calming effect on me. I could drive for hours and hours on this road. However, because of the light Friday traffic, I left this street very soon and passed by Al-Rasheed Hotel, the hotel with one of the best brunch buffets in Baghdad; although this was not the reason for the hotel’s international reputation. It came under the spotlight when a mosaic of George Bush Senior was installed on the floor of its lobby. The drive stayed smooth when I crossed the Jumhuriya Bridge, over the Tigris, to the Liberation Square and took the Muhammad Al-Qasim Expressway that led me, a few minutes later, to the road of Al-Mustansiriya University and to my destination.

It was a small lunch gathering with a lot of delicious Iraqi food. We talked about the usual things, like the unstable electricity, the sky-rocketing prices, the lack of work opportunities and the increasing poverty related to it. But the main subject among the students and graduates at the time was the future. The two senior medical students were talking about their plans for leaving Iraq after graduation. At that time, there was a travel ban on all doctors, engineers and people with higher education degrees. Leaving the country was only possible with fake documents, which meant a great risk. Being caught on the borders with a false passport could cost the person’s life. But it was more than understandable that they wanted to complete their studies abroad, just as their parents did in the 60s and as it was common among ambitious students till the 90s. Studying abroad, before 1991, didn’t mean leaving the country forever. Most of the students got their higher degrees and came back to work in Iraq. After the ban this changed, because once leaving the country with false documents a way back was not possible anymore; and of course, the low quality of life after the embargo was one reason more not to come back. Listing to their plans made me worry. What if they get caught? What if we will never meet again? A lot of „What ifs“ went through my mind. They weren’t the only persons I knew talking about leaving. My friend at college just told me a few days before that she will leave this summer, as soon as she gets her BSc. and two of my friends had already left last summer, one to the UAE and one to the U.K.

I left in the afternoon and decided to drive through Adamiya on my way home. I passed the new car spare parts shop, run by my cousin. I parked my car and went in to say hello and to congratulate him on his shop. He was happy and surprised to see me. He offered me a seat in his small shop. I told him: „Congratulations. It’s a good location and, for a spare parts shop, it is really nice and organized.“ He laughed and said: „Well, it’s not my dream to have this shop. It’s sure better than nothing. But I didn’t study engineering to sit in a shop.“ Of course, I knew what he meant. When he started studying in 1989, the situation in Iraq looked completely different. He thought he would graduate then work for one of the many international companies that were commissioned to do a huge number of projects after the long war with Iran. He started studying in times of peace and hope, but graduated in the times of embargo and despair. He, too, talked about his plans of travelling aboard. He told me that he was trying to apply for jobs in the UAE and Malaysia. I just said: „Wow! Malaysia. That is really far!“ but the „What ifs“ started to fill my head again.

I stepped out of his shop and went back to the car. Suddenly I imagined a big spaceship was moving toward the country sucking up one person after the other on its way. Sooner or later, everyone I know will leave, seeking a better life. The emptiness of the Friday streets that I enjoyed in the morning, now, made me feel lonely and melancholic. I remembered an article I had read when I was in Jordan which mentioned that the middle class was leaving Iraq and that the consequence of such a migration has a dramatic effect on the community. I drove my car back home and noticed that, in almost every neighborhood I passed through, there was a house of someone I knew who had left Iraq for good.

Girls‘ Day Out

Veröffentlicht am 21. April 201610. November 2016 von RanaSchreib einen Kommentar

It was the 2nd of August 1990 when the Iraqi troops walked into Kuwait. In my opinion one of the biggest mistakes in modern history; but I don’t want to talk about politics now. What happened, happened and we all had to pay and are still paying the price for that and a lot of other mistakes made by politicians all over the world.
Anyway after that day, things started to change dramatically in Iraq. After the first reaction of the international community that said: It is an internal Arabic matter in which it will not interfere, it was soon clear that if Iraq would not withdraw immediately from Kuwait, a big war was about to happen. As a result, the Iraqi government tried every possible way to keep the occupation of Kuwait and keep the war away. One of this ways was sending the people to the streets to protest against the upcoming war. On television the protests were called: „self-organized spontaneous protests“. In reality, schools and government departments were instructed to send their students and employees to the streets to protest.
While the employees and teachers were not happy at all, having to walk for hours shouting slogans in the street, for us, students, anything other than school, homework and exams was most welcome.
We protested almost everywhere: in front of the American, British, French and Saudi Arabian embassies. I was 15 then and attending the Baghdad high school for girls. A day out for us girls was like a fun school trip. The first row was shouting slogans like: „down, down Bush. Long live Saddam.“ and „Bush, Bush! Listen well. We all love Saddam Hussein.“ and so on, while the back rows were busy talking, making fun of everything and everybody and gossiping. I was usually in the back, talking and laughing while moving with the crowd.
One day, I think it was the last time we went on a demonstration before the war broke out, we were walking in Haifa Street, heading to the British embassy. The street was filled with thousands of people shouting and holding Iraqi flags and slogans. My friends and I, a group of seven girls, were walking as usual at the end of our school group talking and talking when we suddenly noticed that we were not walking with our school anymore. We tried to find our teacher or anybody of our school but we couldn’t find anyone. After running from one group to the other, we finally realized that our school went back with the bus that had brought us in the morning and left us behind. They forgot us! Going back on feet would have taken us at least one and half hour and we had no money with us to take a taxi.
We went to a police officer who was standing there to control the street blockades. We tried to explain what happened. We were all talking at the same time, that it was hard for him to follow our story. He took a deep breath and then shouted: „stop talking, all of you.“ We all shut up. Then he added „who is the class representative?“ Fortunately, my friend was our class representative, so she stepped forward and told him the story. He said „fine I’ll stop a minibus for you. The driver will take you to school free of charge.“ We all said: „But we can’t go with a stranger. What if he kidnapped us?“ First he laughed but then he noticed that we were serious. He told us: „You are seven girls, how can a single man kidnap you? If you start talking, he would immediately throw you out of the car.“ Still we had the warnings of our parents in mind and didn’t want to take the risk. The policemen then said: „don’t worry. I’ll make sure he will take you to school safely.“ He stopped a minibus and told the driver to take us to our school. Then he took the driving license from the driver, wrote a note on a ticket and gave it to my friend, the class representative. He said: „When you arrive at school give this paper to the driver and he can come back to pick up his license.“
At first, the driver looked a little bit surprised and he was not happy to give away his driving license, but then he took it easy. After all we were children between 14 and 15years. On the way back to school he was joking and saying that he shares the opinion of the police officer: „Why would anyone want to kidnap a bunch of loud-talking, crazy girls.“
We got back to school and gave him the paper. We were missing for more than an hour and thought our teachers and colleagues would be looking for us, but when we arrived, the bell announcing the end of the school day was ringing and everyone was leaving. We took our bags from the classroom and left the school building.
No one noticed that we were missing.

The Rhythm of Bolero

Veröffentlicht am 7. Januar 201619. August 2022 von RanaSchreib einen Kommentar

Yesterday I was searching YouTube for classic music when I stumbled upon Jorge Donn dancing to the rhythm of Ravel’s Bolero. The video took me back at least 30 Years. This Video was one of the time-fillers on the Iraqi TV in the 80s; mostly broadcasted before the 8 or 10 o’clock news. It was not the only wonderful music act used for filling the gaps between the programs, there was also Mozart’s requiem and his Opera The Magic Flute (a lovely and colorful cartoon version I still couldn’t find on the net), the Swan Lake Ballet and some others I don’t remember right now. But I like the Bolero most of all, and although it played in France, I had my own movie running in my mind whenever I listened to it.

I imagined that the war with Iran was over and the soldiers were rising slowly from the ruins of the battle and walking back to their families and loved ones. The more instruments start to play the more soldiers were walking home. When they reached Baghdad, the women and children came out of the houses and welcomed them. That was when Geraldine Chaplin starts singing: “Ahhhhh ahhhhh”. Finally everyone was home safe and sound celebrating the endless peace with the beat of the drums.
My dream came true on the 8th of August, 1988 when the war ended. Hope and Happiness filled the country. It was the biggest Party I had ever seen. The whole country was celebrating and for the first time Iraqis didn’t celebrate with gun shots. No, instead of shooting in to the air, as they used to do on weddings or when Iraq won an important football game, they celebrated with water. Everybody was splashing water around. Turning the country into one big water splash party for almost a month.
Unfortunately, this happiness didn’t last for long, as in my dream.
We had only the chance to celebrate the first anniversary in 1989. The second was destructed by the loud drums of war announcing a new age of violence and misery.
Although the melody is not very joyful, listening to Bolero still fills my heart with hope.

I hope you enjoy listing to it too 🙂

Meeting Muhammad Ali Clay

Veröffentlicht am 14. Dezember 20117. Januar 2017 von RanaSchreib einen Kommentar

Of course we didn’t get the news from the New York Times back in Baghdad in 1990. I googled it today and thought it will make a good start for my story.
We heard about the visit of Muhammad Ali from the local television and we were so excited that someone as great as him was visiting Baghdad. My sister totally adored him. She used to watch his fights when she was a little girl. As for me, well; I have somehow inherited this love, although I never really cared for boxing.
We decided to go and meet him. We knew that it won’t be easy to find him but it’s a once-in-a-life-time chance and we had to take it. Several locations in Baghdad were provided to host the state visitors. We recognized the place when they showed an interview with Muhammad Ali on TV. He was staying in a small resort on the Tigris side called the Weddings Island (before becoming a resort it was called the Pigs’ Island; even though I have never seen a single pig in Baghdad, but never mind).

We started our mission on Friday morning. My sister, her two best friends and I. We drove to the resort without a plan, as if we were expecting Muhammad Ali to be waiting for us at the entrance! Reaching the resort, we noticed how difficult our mission was; the resort was surrounded by safety barriers and about 50 guards to keep unauthorized people out. „OK, that won’t be easy!“ we parked the car and headed to the checkpoint putting a big and helpless smile on our faces. The eyes of the guards were following us as we walked towards the one sitting at the checkpoint’s gate. We greeted the man but he didn’t even wait for us to end the phrase, he stood up and told us „You shouldn’t be here. The state visitors are staying in the resort and locals are not allowed to enter!“ We all cried out at once „Please, we want to meet Muhammad Ali.“ He just laughed and turned his back on us. But we didn’t give up. We followed him and started to explain how important it was for us to meet him and that we adore him. We were all talking at the same time that we sounded like a bunch of chattering chicken.

The guards started gathering and looking at us as if we were aliens. Trying to meet a celebrity is not a usual seen in Baghdad. We talked and argued with him but it seemed that he didn’t care. We were almost giving up when one of the guards (he looked important) came out of a van and told us to follow him. We walked with him towards our car, while the rest of the guards slowly went back to their position. When we reached the car he asked us: „What do you want from Muhammad Ali?“ „We want to take pictures with him and shake his hand!“ „That’s all? You were arguing for half an hour, just to take a picture with him?“ „Yes, yes!“ he smiled and said: „I’ll take you to him on two conditions: first you don’t tell anyone that I did and second you take a picture of me with Muhammad Ali too.“ He made a short pause then added: „and you bring the developed photo to me, OK? Or I will have to find you!“ Yepppiiii that’s easy, isn’t it? Ammm, but was the last sentence a threat? OK, we will bring him his photo for sure. Why would we keep it?

We all got in to the car; he sat on the front seat and gave a sign with his hand to the guards to open the gate. We were all silent as if we were afraid to say anything that might make him change his mind. We drove slowly through the resort. The place was full of security guards who looked surprised to see us. He told us to stop in front of one of the small houses. He stepped out of the car and went to a group of guards standing there. He talked to them and they all laughed out lowed (I’m sure they were joking about us). He came back telling us that Muhammad Ali was in the restaurant having lunch. We drove to the restaurant holding our breath „please let him be there“. Again lots of guards were surrounding the place. He opened the window and asked one of them: „Is Muhammad Ali inside?“ „Haaaaaa? Who is Muhammad what?“ the man replayed „The Boxer Muhammad Ali, is he inside?“ „Ah, the big one, yes, yes he just went inside.“

At last, we did it. We went into the restaurant and saw him sitting at the head of a large table with his delegation. Our companion was greeting the guards and freeing the way for us to get through. One of the gentlemen standing near Muhammad Ali came to us and told us: „don’t stay long. Say Hello; take your pictures and leave. Lunch will be served in minutes, OK?“ he turned back and told Mr. Muhammad Ali: „The girls came to meet you!“ Muhammad Ali turned his head and looked at us with a smile on his face and stood up. „God is he BIG!!!“ when I shook his hand my hand totally disappeared in his. You know I don’t remember what we said. I think we just kept repeating „hello, nice to meet you, blah blah blah…“ we were too excited to build a meaning full conversation. Never mind, we did it. We shook hands, took several pictures with him and of course took two pictures of Muhammad Ali with our guardian Angel. We left the restaurant with shining faces. We thanked our companion for his efforts and kindness and we promised to bring him the photos as soon as they are developed and he reminded us again „If you don’t bring them I’ll have to find you!“ „Hmm, OK, we will bring them don’t worry.“

We developed the film a month later. By that time the resort was emptied and the smell of war was filling the air. We didn’t search for him and he didn’t find us. I still feel guilty when I go through my photos and see him smiling next to Muhammad Ali Clay.