July 30, 2007

Why ?

Yes why?
What for?
What does it say about you? What does it say about your countries? What does it say about your institutions? What does it say about your governments, your "culture", your "civilization", your history, your "progress", your "values", your concepts...?

Have you ever stopped and pondered these questions? Have you ever stopped and asked yourselves ; how come?

How come we are so advanced, how come we are so democratic, how come we are so great, how come we are so free...And how come we allow so much murder, oppression, abuse, go unaccounted for ?

Have you ever asked yourself this question ?

I was just listening to the BBC World radio. A report from Oxfam - and in your eyes that makes it credible - over 70 % of us Iraqis, no longer have access to clean drinking water.
I say no longer have because I remember not so long ago, one could turn on the tap and drink. As simple as that.

The report goes on to say that over 50% of Iraqis are under nourished and 1 out of 3 is literally starving. And that 50% live in abject poverty. 50% !!!

Again, I remember a time, even during the "civilized" sanctions that your countries imposed upon us, everyone had to eat. Not much, but there was food.

The Iraqi government had developed a system of rationing that, to this day, still leaves your top U.N reps in awe.

When I mention that in my posts, I am accused of waging a war of disinformation, psy-ops and being a paid agent.

Now you listen to me and you get off your butts and read. Educate yourselves, oh great people of the West.

A few years back, you could not even locate Iraq on a map . Now you have all suddenly become experts on Her.

Prior to your liberation, there was no starvation in Iraq. Prior to your liberation, there was no abject poverty, the kind we witness today. Prior to your liberation, kids did not stutter out of fear. Prior to your liberation, they went to free schools, learned, grew up and became full functioning adults, with degrees, diplomas and expertise. No, we did not have learning impediments before your liberation.
Today 92 % of Iraqi children suffer from it. Today, 99% of Iraqi children are traumatized for life.

So I ask you again - Why ?

What have Iraqis done to you? Did they invade you? Did they steal your homes? Did they imprison you? Did they torture you? Did they rape you? Did they occupy your lands?

Of course, some of you will come and present me with your usual condescending, paternalistic, patronizing lists of political theories, attempting to explain the inexplicable.

Save your time and energy. I know all about your theories.
I know all about your theories of imperialism, neo-cons, zionists...I also know all about your handy explanations regarding oil, cartels, monopolies, globalization...

None of that satisfies me. I still need to know why?

Why us? why Iraq? why this? why now?

If you fail to answer that question, then you would have not learned one single thing about yourselves.
And I say yourselves, because your governments are a reflection of who you are, your aspirations, your mindsets, your thinking, your illusions...You are part of it and it is part of you.

And all I can see right now are nothing but murderous thoughts - yours.

A few days ago, I was reading an article about a french film producer called Alain Tasma who has just finished directing a film on the Rwandan Genocide.

During "Operation Turquoise", between 700'000 and 900'000 Rwandans perished.

None of you, not a single one of you, had any objections to calling it a Genocide.
It was a given, it was accepted, it was fact. And rightly so, because it was a genocide.

But when it comes to Iraq, all sorts of counter figures pop up. All kinds of other statistics are put forward to try to prove "well, yes but"...

Again my question is why ?

Why did you accept it without questions in the case of Rwanda, why did you accept it without questions in the case of the Holocaust, why is it when it comes to Arabs and Arab Muslims in particular, it becomes a topic for debate and nit picking? And "it" refers to Genocide.

Can you answer this question?

Why is it that what happened over 60 years ago in your lands, still makes you grovel in mortification and supplications of forgiveness but when it comes to us, you have so many "red flags"?
Your phrases are almost always qualified with a "yes but..."

What does that tell me about you? It tells me exactly what I said earlier on, you and your governments are one and the same.

And you will come and say "yes but... I did not vote", "yes but, I sent an email", "yes but....yes but...yes but..."

I don't care for your "yes buts". I truly don't.
And that applies to all of you. All of you whose goverments have a finger in the Iraqi pie.

If you had really wanted, you could have easily gone out en masse, in front of your government's offices...
If only 5 million of you, not more, only 5 million, had done that and had thrown your passports in a huge bonfire in front of your White house, 10 Downing sreet or wherever the hell you happen to be, then I am sure, we would not be experiencing what we are experiencing now.

There are also mass pickets, sit ins, huge demonstrations, strikes...

There are ways, many ways. You just need to get your "creativity" going. Or maybe you are just creative in killing us?

I don't care much for your opinions and comments anymore. Actually I don't give a damn.

All I know is that you have participated directly or indirectly in the crime. That is all I know.

But there is still a little hope left.
Go and sit with yourself for a little while and ask yourself why and then ask yourself what am I supposed to do next?
I can assure you, answers will come to you.

For those of you who prefer to sit and engage in quid pro quos of ifs and buts, then I can already tell you in advance, you are a hopeless case. And I will not even bother to ask why.

Painting : Iraqi female artist, Afifa Laabi.

July 29, 2007

The Lion of Babylon.

I absolutely have to share this with you.

I just heard loud shoutings outside my window. And this is what I heard.

" Bel Roh, bel Dam, Nefdeek ya Saddam". I translate.

"With our soul and our blood we will sacrifice for you Saddam."

Yes you guessed right, the lions of Babylon won. 1-0

The lion of Babylon the statue was blown into pieces in Basrah yesterday by unidentified gumnen, but the Real Lion of Babylon will never die.

More victory to come - I promise you. I know my people.

Long live Iraq, Long live the Iraqi Resistance !


The statue of the Lion of Babylon in Basrah is not the only one that has been blown away.

Blown away by gunmen who are in most likelihood the Mahdi militias since their "brain", their king thug, mullah, Muqtada al Sadr, shuns football.

I have just heard that the Lion of Babylon in Hillah suffered the same fate, even worse.

The Lion of Babylon in Hillah, an old Babylonian piece of art, thousands of years old had its head chopped off with a saw by none other than the American , backward, barbarians, the uncivilized, uncultured, hordes from Uncle Sam's land.

They actually wanted to rip it away from its base but were unable to do so, so they sawed the head off instead.

The reason for this utter barbarity that is the trademark of Americans - Seems the blessed name of Saddam Hussein was engraved on it.

Back to our small victory of Babylonian cubs.

The commentator of al Jazeerah interviewed some of the supporters and this is what one had to say:

" We are very happy. Tell the Americans, the Iranians and the Israeli Jews that we will be driving them out one by one..."

Oh yes! That is the way to go.

That is the great example given to us by the great Leader and Martyr Saddam Hussein.

That is the way to go for sure. You will be driven out one by one.

I told you, the Lion of Babylon will never die.

Picture: courtesy of uruknet.info.

An Add'o'holic.

Hello, my name is Layla and am an add'o'holic.

I first noticed the signs of this insidious disease in 2003 and since then it has gone progressively worse. I did not cause it, cannot control it and am not sure if I can cure it.

For those who have never heard of this bizarre affliction, I will try to describe to you the symptoms maybe you can "relate".

My days are filled with this uncontrollable urge to add. Yes add, like make sum totals.
I have noticed that this obsession has turned into a compulsion and I feel totally powerless. My life has become truly unmanageable.

Only the other day, the urge took hold of me again. It was triggered off by learning about Iman's death.

So since that day, the compulsion has resurfaced with vehemence. I can't sleep, and instead of counting sheep, I make lists.

I have all sorts of lists in my head. A list of the dead, a list of the imprisoned, a list of the tortured, a list of the exiled, a list of those who disappeared...
So I add up and make complicated sum totals.

In fact I have a "neat" list for all those relatives and friends who passed away : Nabil, Khalid, Souhair's husband, Nadia's Mother, Hassan, Omar and Iman.

Then there is another list for those who have been imprisoned : Kamel, Omar (but Omar died in prison), Radhee and his family(in the Adhamiya concentration camp) and Nadia and her family (in the other concentration camp Al'Ameriya) and all the others in the Yarmook, Karrada, Amil, Mansur, Taji ghettos.

Then there is the list of those who were either battered or tortured : Kamel, Omar, Salam, Raouf, Souhair's husband.

Then there is the list of those who are physically ill and cannot get treatment : Radhee, Raouf, Zakaria, Randa, Auntie Sameera, Othman...

Then there is the list of those who have disappeared and cannot be reached : Sarkis, Ann, Kareem...

Then there is the list of those whore are exiled. My, this one is very long : Aisha, Bakr, Walid, Hisham, Nada, Mundhir, Afaf, Zaynab...Can't count...way too long.

Then there is the list of the unemployed : Radhee, Raouf, Othman, Aida - damn this one is long too. Nearly everyone I know is unemployed.

Then there is the list of the emotionally traumatized and that one is very,very long: All the above, including myself, my mom, and every single person I know.

Now according to my sums, that makes all my family, my relatives, my friends and our neighbors.

Then you need to add : relatives of relatives, friends of friends, neighbors' relatives and friends...

Now if my calculation is correct that makes ALL of US. Every single one of us (except maybe for the hookers in the Green Zone.) Yes that makes the whole country.

A whole country is about 21 million. Please do me a favor and do not quote that obsolete figure of 26 million anymore. And here is why.

Let us assume that prior to the sanctions, we were 25 million. The sanctions killed around 1.7 million (500'000 of which were children.) Then "Operation Freedom" easily claimed another 1 million and am not counting those who succumbed to their injuries.Then you add 2.2 million in exile since 2003 ( at rate of 2'500 a day!)(am not including the 2.2 million internally displaced).

So we have 2.7 million dead-murdered (and I say way more) + 2.2 exiled. That makes a total of 4.9 million absentees.

You subtract that sum from the initial 25 million and you are left with 20.1 million. But for the sake of simplicity, I shall round it to 20 Million.

In other words we are 5 million LESS. So do correct your figure next time. And I am being really generous in your favor.

I know that Western ideologues are very keen on Malthus's population control theories But that is a little too much don't you think ?

I mean I know, that you dislike the fact that we "breed like rabbits" and that some of your good hearted agencies and NGO's engaged in some heavy handed forced vasectomy & sterilization campaigns. Ask anyone from India and s/he will tell you all about it.
But to go to the extent of physical elimination as a method of population control strikes me as very...hmmm....Nazi. Don't you think ?
Again, ask the Palestinians under occupation, they have first hand experience of these kind of methods.

And if India and occupied Palestine sound too exotic for your taste and you get lost on a map finding them, you really do not need to go very far.Remember your native Americans. That is home alright. Assuming of course that you do remember and have not gone conveniently amnesic.

I really can't help it if you do not like giving life. I really can't help it if you opt for devoting your lives to the Dow Jones instead. But, hey that is not a reason to finish us off that way. Specially when you like to designate yourselves as a "civilized people".

Now if that is not GENOCIDE, I do not know what is.

But wait, my add'h'olism does not stop here. I also think of you.

As a matter of fact I have another list of all your soldiers. So far 4'000 gone.
That is the official figure. The unofficial one is in the thousands...

But that is not my most important list. The following one is.

Let me see...There are at least 175'000 American soldiers.
Add to those another 50'000 mercenaries - You will be able to get the exact figures from Blackwater Inc.
Am not including logistic support teams. I love this sentence. So sophisticated. Logistic support teams means: cooks, embassy employees, bodyguards, security agents, etc...
So far the first subtotal of those slaving for "democracy" is 225'000.

Wait am not done yet. I told you it is a compulsion.

Add to the 225'000, the Iraqi "army" and "police" force. And the official figure is around 360'00 - all trained by the U.S. That gives me another subtotal of 585'000.

Be patient, more to come...

Add to the 585'000 all the trained funded militias from Iran.
And here is a conservative estimate. See am being nice to Iran now.
There are 22 sectarian militias. The main players are:
- Muqtada Al Sadr and his drill boys The Jaysh al Mahdi - 50'000.
- Al Hakeem and his Badr Brigades - 25'000.
- The Maghawir Brigades of the Ministry of Interior "shock and awe" - 20'000.
- Hezbollah Iraq trained courtesy of Hassan Nassrallah, Lebanon - 3'000.

I have not included the militias of Chalabi, Sistani, Maliki,and the Iranian commandos of the Iranian Revolutionary Council. That gives me another sub total of 98'000 - Let us round it to 100'000 since I was so generous with Iran.

Wait, wait, more to come...

Then you have the Kurdish peshmergas who have been trained and armed by Israel and many of them were actively involved in the massacres of Fallujah.
Now they are concentrated in Baghdad since the "new security plan" took place.
I have no exact figure for Baghdad but let us say at least 20'000 according to the last report I read 6 months ago.

That makes a GRAND TOTAL of: 585'000 + 100'000 + 20'000 = 705'000.
Again let us round it since I did not count the Logistic support teams and gave an underestimate figure for the Peshmergas. So am rounding it to 710'000.

There are 710'000 armed killers roaming around....

Be patient, patience is a virtue. Ask me all about it.

Now this is how you have to proceed :
You divide the number of population by the number of killers.
20 Million divided by 710'000 = 28.1 (round it to 30).

So you actually have 1 killer per 30 Iraqis. And always bear in mind these are conservative estimates.

Now you can understand why the number of those who fled - exiled is 4.2 million and why the figure for Dead Iraqis is in the Million.

But you see, every compulsion has its up side....

700'000 killers roaming around. 1 for every 30. The biggest army in the world.

The No.1 army in the world. Sophisticated, developed, technologically advanced, surge after surge...applying : "professional Darwinism" as one of your Senior officers likes to call it.

And four years down the line, with its logistic support teams, its soldiers, its militias, its contractors, its mercenaries, its peshmergas, it has not been able to control and secure one neighborhood, not one alley way, not one street corner...

Now what do you call that? I call that DEFEAT.

Some of you think of Defeat the Hollywood way. Like soldiers head bent down, with bag packs walking away into the sunset...That is the movies Dears.

DEFEAT is when you have at least 700'000 assholes working for you and you keep increasing their numbers and you still can't make it.

See what I mean?

Now the flip side of Defeat is RESISTANCE.

Four years down the line, if you do not call that RESISTANCE, I do not know what is. And you are supposedly the No.1 army in the world.

You can surge all you want, bring in all the mercenaries in the world, pay trillions and trillions of dollars, hire every contractor possible, wheel and deal with every enemy you like, make pacts with militias, thugs, drillers, torturers, snipers...You are DEFEATED.

Let us face it, if you have not "secured" it in 4 years now, you will not do it in 10, 20 or even 50 years.

Yes Ladies and Gentlemen, that is called RESISTANCE.

Hello, my name is Layla and am an add'o'holic.I did not cause it, cannot control it but am being cured and so are millions of others from your Death addiction.

Is that cause for celebration ? Why not indeed.
So repeat after me now.
Long Live the Muqawama - Long Live the Iraqi Resistance !

Painting : Iraqi artist, Mohammad Muhradin.

July 27, 2007

Fresh from the Iraqi Oven.

From inside Iraq - Baghdad.

I am not sure if you heard that on your news wherever you are, but 13 American soldiers met their fate yesterday in Adhamiya alone.
You know Adhamiya don't you? The Ghetto of the 21st century. You know, come on now...The Aushwitz wall of Adhamiya.
And (and this is important info) contrary to "popular" belief, according to what I heard, the explosives used were NOT made in Iran.

Petraeus and the Farsee Mullahs have had you dancing on one leg and jingling the war alerts bells with another...Now you grow up and listen to real politics on the ground - hot from the Iraqi oven.

This little bit of info was expanded upon when two seemingly non related incidents took place. And you know as well as I do that the devil hides in the detail.

In a previous post I mentionned two relatives who have been detained and imprisoned by the American occupier.

The first one ,Omar was transferred from an American run prison to a prison in Southern Iraq run by the Mahdi Militias.
Seems that they are more proficient at extracting information than the yankees. Mind you, you did not fare too badly yourselves.

To cut a long story short, the prison was bombed and we still don't know exactly by whom and Omar is very probably dead.

This is one instance of a real solid cooperation on security matters between the Americans and the militias run by Iran. Not bad huh ?

Now the second one is Kamel. Finally we have news of Kamel.
Kamel 60's - as you may recall - was arrested by the Americans and the alleged charges are "insurgency".
I mean, Kamel cannot even lift a hammer let alone carry weapons. But that is not the crux of the matter.

What I learned today is that Kamel will be released on condition that a sum of 2 million Iraqi dinars is paid up front to the prison. The sum is in the process of being gathered...But again that is not the main point am driving at.

Now this prison is supposedly run by Americans. And Kamel is allegedly an "insurgent". How come this "release" sum?

Everything became clearer when I learned that even though this is an "American" prison, it is in fact run by - guess who? Of course the Iranian militias of which Muqtada Al Sadr is king.
So to cut a long torturous story short, a sum of 2 million dinars will be paid to the militias and only then will they sign a paper stating that Kamel is NOT an "insurgent."

What do you make out of all of this? It is as clear as daylight.
The Americans and the Militias of Iran are cooperating on "important security issues."
And whom do these security issues involve? Any sunni perceived as anti-occupation and anyone perceived as a potential Resistance sympathizer or maybe a real member of the Resistance.

Conclusion - The Americans and the Iran run militias are targeting the Resistance. And the Resistance has been deliberately lumped with al Qaeda. All Resistance fighthers are considered al Qaeda by the Americans. And Bingo!

Moreover, as if the Americans do not wish to dirty their hands even further, they relegate the real heavy work (of torture) to the militias.
Just a question of PR after the scandalous episodes in Abu Ghraib, Haditha, Falluja, Abeer, etc...

So do remember these two little incidents next time you get on your bandwagon...

The following bits of info will complete the picture further. And do not come and complain that you have not been told.

Seems there is contest going on between Adhamiya and Ameriya as to whose wall is tallest.
Latest news from Ameriya (a sooneee stronghold) confirm that the Ameriya wall is nearly complete and is higher than the Adhamiya wall.

Nadia wanted to return to her district, Ameriya. She had to take two cabs to get to Ameriya "gates". Then from Ameriya "gates" after security clearance, she had to take another 3 cabs to get home. At each check point within the Ameriya district, they forced her to change cabs. Needless to tell you that Nadia spends over half of her salary on cabs and she is left with 20 dollars to feed her kids.

In Adhamiya, American tanks are stationed on every single street corner.
They(the yankees) have gone as mad as rabid dogs since yesterday...so I was told.
Inhabitants of Adhamiya are literally buried at home, soaking in sweat, no water, no possibility to go and buy food and no electricity with an average temperature reaching 53C.
I pray that Radhee survives it this time around.

In the Karrada district two days ago, 25 Iraqis were killed by a mysterious explosion.
Today the same happened with a roughly similar number of dead and around 8 injured. According to reliable sources, no one really knows who is behind these explosions. And again contrary to common belief, it is no longer car bombs but explosive devices placed in Buildings.

A similar kind of explosion took place in al-Mansur today.

This new tactic has one clear purpose, in my opinion: "Bring the whole thing down". If you see what I mean.

These are little puzzles, pieces that form what "American Academia" of Political Science refer to as " creative chaos " and some prefer to call it "creative destruction".

Needless to add that Iran is doing her wonderful share in the "creative" american "surge". It has become self-evident by now.

From Outside of Iraq - Syria & Jordan.

The Iraqi refugeee crisis is deepening to the point of another "creative chaos" and to a point of "no return". Mark my words.

All of the refugees interviewed whether in Syria or in Jordan unequivocally state the same things:

- the Iraqi government is doing absolutely nothing to alleviate their ever deteriorating conditions. No funds are available, no money transfers, pensioners are forced to return to Baghdad to receive their meager paychecks. Many of them do not make it back to the host country. They are killed by bandits or by the militias.
Suhair's husband is a "living" example. He went back to get his paycheck and was shot in the head by the Mahdi boys right in front of his doorstep, leaving Suhair a widow at the age of 33 with three kids to feed.

All the refugees interviewed shout out the same cry of despair :

" The queues at the Iraqi embassy are so long. We start queuing at the crack of dawn, for help, for a passport, for assistance, for information... When we are finally received if they ever accept to receive us, they treat us like STRANGERS, as if they are not from us and we are not from them. "

Do remember that all of the Iraqi embassies worldwide are now run by Kurds and of course sectarians with loyalties to who else ? but Iran. Ask any refugee and s/he will concur to that.

And they add: "They think because we left the country, we are their enemies. But we were forced to leave from the violence. So now they force us to go back so we get killed."

They also state that: "The U.N has done absolutely nothing for us. Apart from giving us application forms to fill and that was that."

Iraqi refugees are now considered to be a heavy burden by both the host countries and by the Iraqi government.

Their number outside of Iraq is 2.2 million and they are mainly concentrated in Syria and Jordan. Most of them have NO accesss to schooling, decent housing, basic necessities, food, health care and jobs. They are not allowed to work. Period.

The remaining 2.2 are displaced within Iraqi borders and live in tents or in someone else's home. They too have NO access to anything.

These Iraqi refugees are the Mosaic of Iraq. They are sunnis, shias, yezidis, christians - assyrians, chaldeans, telkef - kurds, sabaeans, armenians...

The Mosaic is now in exile. You can do something to save it. You failed the first time around, do something now, at least for them. Them on the outside. They are reachable. They are in a different kind of oven but still reachable. You owe it to them. You owe it to yourselves.

One another note, 2000 Iraqis were finally granted entry to the U.S - Michigan to be more precise. They do facilitate entries for christian Iraqis.
But the locals have already started complaining. The Iraqis are placing an undue burden on the Michigan economy. ( here for full story).
Already? They have not even landed yet.

Tell you what - ask your President and his gangsters to pay for them and maintain them and they ought to live like royalty in friggin Michigan.
After all, you still have not given me an answer as to what happened to the 20 Billion Dollars from the Iraqi treasury - i.e Iraqi money that your Bremer stole.

Now you pay, bunch of bastards. You pay for this hellish oven of your creation.

Painting: Iraqi artist, Faraj Aboo." Bread cookers - Al Tanoor" 1963.

July 25, 2007

An Iraqi passport ? - Pass !

The impasse of the Iraq pass document.

I had promised you sometime ago that I will write about the so called "Iraqi" passport. But events took the better of my time and I got sidetracked with slightly more important issues such as deaths, battered relatives, tortured family members, imprisoned relations and others who simply disappeared...
So do excuse the delay.

The first thing you need to know is that the process of getting a passport or renewing one or changing one is a NIGHTMARE.

The new Kosher passport now holds the letter G. This passport has met and has passed "international security standards."

Now if you do not have a G passport, you are screwed. If you happen to have an N, M, H or S series passport you are doubly screwed.

In order to get a G -string passport and replace all the other passports series you have to go to the Ministry of Interior and fill an application form and wait for at least 3 months if not more and pay bribes and the cost of the passport is around 20 dollars (which is a lot of money for the average Iraqi).

You may or may not get it. Actually you may not even leave the ministry, if your name happens to be Omar, Bakr or Othman...So do change your name before.

Some of you may remember reading about this infamous building run by the Iranian militias and turned into a torture center. Not much has changed since. Yep that is the Ministry of Interior.

For those of you who still possess the M series passport, forget it - it is no longer valid even though it has not expired. If you happen to have the N series, know it will expire in December 2007.

If you have an H or S series, you can kiss yourself goodbye...

Now the plot thickens. Because if you have an M or an N and wish to change it to the acceptable G, that does not necessarily mean you will get a "G" passport - due to the huge demand (or so they claim). You may very well end up with an S series instead - temporary Shit series.
So you have to go through the whole fucking process all over again.

The S series was issued by their lordship Americanas but then they were subsequently deemed as a security threat.

Now the G series is only issued for individuals. Those who have families cannot get a G passport. (spouse and children under 16). So naturally families need to wait much longer for their turn to come.

Basically put, the G series is for those working in the Green zone and their collaborators so they can travel for their business contracts or for rest and relaxation or to lose weight like Talabani.
Remember his trip to Mayo clinic - Any progress on his fat insurgency ?

Talking about Talabani of course reminds me of our brothers the Kurds. What a sinking feeling I get when I mention them.

Now check out the latest and am NOT being satirical nor am I exaggerating.

Any Iraqi living outside of Iraq and holding the Iraqi nationality, requires a visa from the Iraqi embassy to travel to any "Kurdish area", notably Erbil "international airport" plus 2 kurdish sponsors. And do not forget that Erbil international airport was built courtesy of the Israelis.

Umm D. lives in Jordan and wanted to visit her son in Baghdad. She applied for a visa to land in Erbil. I am serious.

Any Iraqi inside of Iraq who is not a kurd and who lives outside "kurdistan" - Kharrastan (kharra in arabic = shit = merde = mierda) is refused entry into Erbil.

Raouf after his torture ordeal wanted to go there and then move on somewhere else. He was refused entry because and I quote textually what they told him: " You are an ARAB Iraqi."

I believe Chomsky and Co. and all those Arab left wing wankers who cried about the poor Kurds must be elated to learn this. Another congratulations to you.

I hope that Kharrastans will sprout in Iran, Turkey and Syria. But these countries will NEVER allow a Kharrastan to take place there.

And of course the kurds are now driving out the real inhabitants of Mosul, Kirkuk, Erbil, Dhok...so they can establish their little Israeli-American empire and Talabani and Barazani can sit on big fat chairs on their big fat asses and fart away to the kurdish national anthem, waving away their chauvinistc flag in Kharrastan.

Yes Turdistan it is indeed. Please don't get me going I will not be able to stop and you will end up with another lethal "Uncensored Anger Manifesto."

Back to these damned passports.

Since am talking about "official" travel documents, I also need to talk about "unofficial" travel documents. i.e forged ones.

I always believed when there is a will there is a way. Listen now to the story of Muhannad's brother who escaped from the Mahdi drill boys in Baladiyat after witnessing 4 of his family members slaughtered in front of his very eyes.

Let's call him Yasser. Yasser ended up in no man land's stranded in the desert between Iraq and Syria. He was there for 8 months with his wife and two little kids. Living in a fucking tent, with no water, no electricity in the middle of nowhere.
And I would like to see the Arab leftists wankers who carry the Palestinian cause like some torch of self glamour - talk about the fate of the Palestinians in Iraq.

Back to Yasser. Yasser and some of his "camp colleagues", met someone who was willing to sell them passports so they can get to France and then from there go to Sweden.

The passports, Portuguese, were beautifully forged. Yasser's new name was Da Silva.
Now you are wondering why Portuguese right? Think hard.
Dduh! They are "dark and have mustaches" like the Iraqis and they are Europeans and it is easier to say "obrigada" than "thank you " with a heavy foreign accent and not get caught.

Cost of the passport - 15'000 US dollars.

Yasser and his friends borrowed loads of money and finally got the passports.
They arrived in France and 8 out of the 10, stayed in the airport and were returned "home". Yes they were caught. Not because the passports were badly forged but because the guys did not learn a word of portuguese and they panicked at the customs.
So off they went - shipped back to Baladiyat - Baghdad - Iraq.

Fortunately for Yasser he made it through. He arrived to Sweden, contacted the police there, gave them his fake passport and applied for political asylum. He was one of the lucky ones.

So Dear Reader, if you ever envisage applying for the Iraqi nationality - am certain this is an interesting proposition since we are nascent model democracy - make sure you highlight on your application form you want the G-string series.
Or else...you can kiss your own ass goodbye.

Painting: Iraqi artist, Mohammed Al Shammarey.

Holding on...

I had a very poignant dream last night that left me shaking till this very hour, as I am writing this...

I dreamt I was in what looked like a pleasant place, as if pausing on a journey.
I was sitting eating ice cream and enjoying it. (I do not like sweets by the way.)

Next to me came three very well dressed ladies, looking very refined. They were westerners. Their jewelery shined and sparked under the pale sun and it was a cloudy day. They sat very close to me, on the same table. Too close for comfort.

They ordered a lot of food but kept eyeing and vying my little scoop of ice cream.
I tried ignoring them and remained civil which I usually do in such cases.

One of these very sophisticated women, simply reached out and took my little bowl of ice cream and started eating from it, as if I was not there, as if I was invisible.

I told her: " Why are you doing this. You have plenty of food in front of you. This is my little plate."
She retorted waving her hand brushing me away: "I do what I want".
I continued : " But this is my food. Who are you to take it that way, without even asking me." To which she replied sarcastically :" We are just tasting your food. We do not need your permission for that."

In the dream my voice got louder and louder and I ended up screaming at her: " I will sue all of you." She laughed and continued eating away from my little plate. Ignoring the ample food served in front of her and ignoring me.

Then, the dream took me to what looked like a huge concrete building. I was galloping on a horse and was surrounded by cars that kept honking at me. That building was the U.N. As I approached the gate, I saw packs of wild animals preying and attacking smaller ones, carrying their carcasses and hiding them in obscure modern places.

I saws wild leopards attacking antelopes and gazelles. I saw hyenas pouncing on smaller creatures. I was not able to enter the gates of the U.N.

Then the dream took me to yet another place. An old woman received me. I was in turmoil. She hugged me. I said to her: " Iman has died and I have no one to tell."
She held me for what seemed like a long time and I broke down in tears...I cried and cried and cried.

She said: " I will tell you a secret that Saddam Hussein knew and I want you to do the same. Hold on to the Palm tree like he held on to them.
Spirits, jins and protectors live in each single one of them. He knew that and held on. You hold on too."

Then I saw myself literally hugging, holding a Palm tree. And as I held it I cried even more. They were tears like torrents in a valley. A valley of sorrow and grief.
And I kept holding on tighter and tighter.

When I woke up, I saw myself invisibly hugging something, soaked in tears and I cried some more. And I still cannot stop crying.

I cried for all those gone and all those left behind.

I cried for Iman, Nabil, Hassan, Omar, Khalid, Suhair, Kamel, Radhee, Raouf, Randa, Maysoon, Nadia, Salam, Zakaria, Sarkis, Ann, Madeleine, Nasser, Ali, Bakr, Alia, Othman, Fawziaa, Sameera, Badiaa, my mother, my self...

I cried for my family, my relatives, my friends, those I know and those I do not know, my neighborhood, my town, my city, my country...

And I am still crying holding on...Holding on to that Palm tree, a Palm tree in a valley of devastation, tears and sorrow.

P.S: I learned that Iman 30's passed way. She had a brain heamorrhage. Too many checkpoints, barricades and detours. By the time, they made it to the hospital or what looked like a hospital. She was already gone. And am holding on...

Painting: Iraqi female artist, Nadya Mussawi. "A Rain symphony".

July 21, 2007

A Second Coming.

Iraq is the biggest sacrifice any people can offer for the sake of "Truth".

The Iraqi "entreprise" or "experience" is the fig leaf that has unmasked many...
Many Americans, many Westerners, many Arabs, many Iranians...many Christians, many Jews and many Muslims...including the Dalai Lama. (So Buddhists save your breath.)

Iraq is our cross and Iraq is your salvation - of that I am certain. It is an intuitive knowledge. I just know it to be true. The same way I knew that the dream I had several months prior to the 2003 invasion to be a premonitory one.

Only does the dream, I had back then, make sense now. I alluded to that dream in one of my earliest posts and titled it "The Crucified Boy and his Ressurection.".

Six months or so, prior to our "Liberation", I had this powerful oneiric vision.
I remember waking up in the very early hours of the morning, drenched in sweat and crying my eyes out. I relayed that dream to some members of my family - a dream that forebode what was later to unfold in Reality.

I dreamt of a very old wooden cross planted on Iraqi soil. I saw two American GI's lifting a young boy (around 11), lifting him from his upper arms and nailing him on that cross.
In the dream, the sun set very quickly and everything got shrouded in a thick obscurity. The GI's walked away, leaving the boy on the cross.
I remember seeing the earth scorched brown black. I said to myself in the dream :
" Darkness has landed and will cover all of us."

I knew that America was not only going to invade us but will also crucify us one by one. After 13 years of embargo torture, we were to meet our final fate.

Needless to say the dream proved to be true. So we have been and continue to be crucified...

Surely something "good" will come out of all of this? Surely all this suffering cannot go to waste? Yes, something good will come out - Your salvation.

We are going to save you and liberate you. Save you and liberate you from the grips of your own Evil.

The Evil of your indifference, your apathy, your complacency, your blindness, your ignorance, your arrogance, your haughtiness, your greed, your lies, your deceit, your denial, your viciousness, your cruelty, your death wish...

Each one of us is a splinter on that wooden cross and the little boy is "Innocence".
And you have crucified Innocence and this Innocence will save you.

And we will resurrect. Maybe not on the third day, but resurrect we will. That is the grand Design, that is the Plan. I just know.

And you will have millions of resurrected bodies, young and old waiting for you with open arms. And you will come running, blinded by the Force that will transpierce you like beams of Light.

Each tear, each wound, each scar will be like golden drops of rain, like golden flags waving in the firmament. Flags of Victory.

And those of you who pretended to see whilst deliberately closing their eyes will be left out.
Left out in that same Darkness, on scorched desert grounds...Left out in that same Obscurity I saw in the dream.

How can you otherwise explain all that suffering? I tell you - It is nothing but a preparation.

Do not think you can simply turn on your heels and go back doing what you do best: lying, plundering, pillaging, stealing, raping, torturing, killing...It is not possible. Life is not an exercise in Futility.

So yes it is a preparation. For we are the Cross, the Body, the Flesh and the Blood.
And you are nothing but the thorns and the nails...

We will resurrect, I promise you.

So pay heed, for our second coming is in the making. And what a mighty one it will be.

Painting : Iraqi female artist, Betool Fekaiki.

July 18, 2007

Shadows on a Wall...

I cannot erase her portrait from my mind. Neither hers nor that of others I have seen, day in, day out.
That same picture, as if permanently fixed, repeating itself in Baghdad, Damascus, Amman...

She must have been around 70 years old. She looked thin. Her black abaya hanging loosely on her head. Her pale face showed no bitterness, no anger, no hate...I wished it did. They would have told me she was still alive. None of that. Just that lost look that has become like a stamp, a seal, a "made in Iraq" (or more aptly made in America or made in Iran) label, by which you can recognize us, us the "ordinary" ones.

Strands of disheveled hair escaped from under her abaya, covering one of her eyes and she let it be...

She was sqatting in the shade, propped by a cracked grey wall behind her. One hand was holding her head and the other freely hanging by her side.

She was talking to herself. A common thing these days. I personally engage in it often.

I heard her say:" What shall I tell you? They are gone. All gone and they left me behind."
Then she would stop and her gaze would drift somewhere far, somewhere beyond, as if visiting this place of no return...As if she was waiting for that moment...

She was no beggar. She begged for nothing. I do not think she was even aware that she needed anything anymore. She lost it all, she lost herself too.

I was discreetly observing her. A couple of kids passed her by and made fun. She raised her eyes and repeated that same sentence : "What shall I tell you? They are all gone...and they left me behind."
The kids ran away, frightened by what seeemed to be her "madness".

She was squatting on the edge, propping her head with one hand, whilst the other was free to reach out for "Life" in that place of no return, waiting for its final deliverance.

The other portrait which remains vivid and accompanies me all the time like some background wallpaper is the image of "another one". Another anonymous one.

Again she is around 70, a little more maybe. She has also taken up a corner, against a wall.
She, however sat on a small cardboard box. She too is not begging.

Cigarettes, not packs of cigarettes but single cigarettes, a few pencils, a rusty pair of tweezers, small packs of tissues are neatly placed in another large card box...too large for her.

She meticulously re-arranges her "goods", making sure to place them in the middle of the box, leaving the edges and margins very empty. Very empty, very much like her life.

Everytime I passed her by, she would say: " Bintee (my daughter). May God keep your family. Buy something from me. I have no one Bintee."

I call her Hijjia and she calls me Bintee.

And however much one gives, the need is so enormous, it is never enough.
Not just the material need which is great but also the other needs, the ones on the inside that virtually no one bothers to look at.

Sometimes I would take food and I'd say: " Hijjia, we just cooked this. It is fresh."
To which she replied: " Bintee, even if it is a week's old, I'd take it. It is Food."

I have just given you two portraits of two elderly Iraqi women. You can multiply these two examples a thousand times...

These were women who once had a home, a family, children, grandchildren and now they have nothing and are nothing - Nothing.

They are nothing but shadows on a cracked grey wall...

And as they secretly wait and wish for another form of "liberation" that would set them finally free from being nothing but shadows on a wall. As they are waiting...

I would like to extend to you my heartfelt congratulations on a "job well done".

Bravo and a thousand bravos for each of these shadows that you have so carefully crafted on the grey wall of our cracked existence.

Painting: Iraqi artist, Said Shnin.

July 15, 2007

Not so Kind...

I am very pissed.

I do not have many kind words towards my fellow Iraqis. Let me qualify here, before you start jumping to conclusions.

I have no kind words towards that category of Iraqis who gave it away for Free to the Americans and the Iranians. I have absolutely no respect for them, no consideration and zero sympathy.

I have zero respect for those bastards living and working in the Green zone.
I have total disdain for those who voted and now come meagerly complain about "lack of the promised democracy"..."but we voted" broken record. Sure you voted. You voted for your sects and your wallets.
I have absolutely no sympathy for those who applauded and filled their blogs with hurrays "Saddam is gone" and now cry over poor Iraq...and congratulate themselves with cheap words of sympathy coming from the occupier.

It took a bunch of your kind to make it happen. Now you have lost it all.
I do not want to be too cruel and say you deserve what you are getting because I happen to be in the same boat...
Oh how I wish someone would give me a life saving raft so I no longer have to be associated in name with you lot.

My condolences Iraqi hypocrites. You lost your country and made us, the rest, the silent majority who are not pocketing any of the American - Iranian "dough", pay for it with our bodies, blood, children, selves and sanity...

Al Hajjaj was right. You are "ahl al-shiqak wa al-nifaq".

Fuck you all.

Painting: Iraqi artist, Mohammed Al-Shammarey.

July 14, 2007

The Future is a Woman.

Don't you ever tire? I mean don't you ever get sick with so much killing? Does your stomach not churn? Do you not get queazy or are you on a permanent Death fix ?

Us, women and I in particular, have had it with your "urges", your killing fields and your killing games.

How many millions of dollars does it take to produce a bomb, a tank, a hand grenade...?

So much interest in terminating Life. Like you have participated in some big way in creating, reproducing Life.
Unless of course, you consider that an average 10 mn top max intercourse followed by a 5 seconds orgasm, as a major contribution to Life.

The rest we need to deal with. Carry an emerging life for 9 months, labour pains, birth pangs...
Maybe you are just an envious, jealous bunch.
Since you cannot give birth, you take Life and give Death instead. And we are always here behind to pick up the pieces and sometimes there are no pieces left because you have included us in your filthy equation.

I am sure you realize that Life is a not a Terminator movie. No, I take that back.
Anyone who produces, watches, and associates real Life to a crappy Terminator movie is demented. Demented people should be in asylums, certainly not roaming the streets and invading countries. And surely not ruling the World.

A good majority of men and the women who imitate them should be locked up. I have decreed so. That would be the only sane thing to do.

All the so called "women" who follow in men's footsteps of destruction, need intensive therapy and done behind iron bars - to reconnect with the essence of Life, the essence of the Feminine.

As for the men, they are to be sent to a huge forced labour, rehabilitation camp. They will be made to cook, clean, bake bread , iron and look after the children. The rest of the time they are to engage in meditating on the essence of the Feminine for at least 12 hours a day.
No, porn and female lingerie are not allowed as meditative props.

A huge barbedwire camp.
No guns, no sports, no hunting, no beer, no TV, no heavy metal rock shit...
Short of that, lobotomy is called for, pronto. Yes a lobotomy. Before they exterminate the rest of us and totally destroy the whole planet.

Just in case you had not noticed, I am sick and tired.
Sick and tired of that stupid lot called "men".
Sick and tired of your ways, your egomanias, your conceit, your narcissism, your power trips, your psychopathic, sadistic tendencies, your death, rape, control, possess - restless "desires", impulses, cravings...
Sick and tired of your myopia, your greed, your unbriddled, uncontrolled, senseless, meaningless "ambitions"...
Sick and tired of the rationalizing robots that you have become or maybe that you have always been.

And do you not dare give me this shit about your being fathers too. This is not my idea of paternity and besides who needs a father like that?

And do not give me this shit about blaming capitalism alone. Even so called non capitalistic societies have managed to screw up as bad.

And I certainly do not wish to hear about your so called religion - whatever it is.
You have even appropriated "God", grew It a beard, and called It a He with a capital H.

Enough! Enough of your destruction. Enough of your violence. Enough of your brutality. Enough of your ignorance. Enough of those empty, ugly shells you call selves.

Come to think of it, your overall "performance" over the last few centuries has been abysmal. And you have made a total mess of this world.

I dot not care how many times you have penetrated outerspace and landed on the moon.
What good does your landing on the moon is, if we can't even walk the streets in safety?

I do not care about your scientific "advancements" either. What good are your scientists, doctors and the rest...when women - women from the damned "South" are progressively more impoverished and sick?

I also do not care for your technological progress, your constructions, your edifices or your phalluses. What good are they, when they are turned up against us ?

And last but definitely not least, I do not care for your "men of God". Your priests, rabbis, sheikhs, mullahs, monks... They took themselves to be God and suddenly we have a million gods preaching.

Enough. You have not managed at all. In fact you have failed and it is high time you abdicate.

And if you insist and persist in grabbing and killing, then be my guest, grab your own life and be done with it, seriously done with it.

Yes this is what you should do and leave the future to us Women.
No, not the Tzibi Livni's , nor the Condi Lice's of this world. Certainly not to the Fancyme Pelosi's, nor the Hilarious Clinton's. Nor the Angela Murky's, nor the Segolene Disloyal's. No, not a western "woman"...Please!

Let her be an African HIV+ Woman (the one you infected because you were drunk and invicible), or a Latina with an iron fist, or any other from the "developing world" (we have been developing for a long, long time no?)

Or better still an Arab Woman - preferably of Sumerian origins with a fire raging in her belly. Yes let her be from Sumeria.
After all, you have killed our men - very dead. And rendered them useless...

A copy of yourselves - Dead and useless.

PS : As for you women, you got it all wrong. The meek shall not inherit the earth.

Painting: Iraqi female artist, Betool Fekaiki.

July 9, 2007

Some thoughts on Forgiveness...

I receive several comments and mails urging me to forgive.
I have nothing against forgiveness. Forgiveness frees.
However I do have a problem and am stuck...so maybe you can help me.

How on earth does one forgive when the slight, abuse, humiliation, cruelty, destruction, annihilation is ongoing....Day in, day out. How?

Forgiveness necessitates truce, a time out, a moment of peace...
Forgiveness necessitates distance from the predator, from the abuser.It also needs a time of healing. It needs amends, corrections, rectifications, for all the damage.
How on earth can you expect anyone to forgive when none of the above conditions are there?

And moreover, why do you expect me, us, Iraqis to forgive you when there is no intention or change of course on your part?

What are we supposed to do with our dead ones, our injured ones, our memories, our lost hopes, our vanished dreams? What are we supposed to do with our exile, our losses, our uprootedness?

And even if we suddenly metamorphose into sainthood, what do we do with your presence in our faces?

Christ was crucified once. He was able to forgive. It was a one time affair.
But you are crucifying us daily. Daily, since your Desert Storm. And ever since you have done nothing but blow more sand in our eyes.

So how do I forgive? You tell me...

And assuming I have managed to do so.
Will the Tigris and the Euphrates forgive you ?
Will the dead fish and the floating corpses forgive you?

Imagine I forgave you.

Will the deliberately burned down palm trees forgive you?
Will the ruins forgive you?
Will the polluted earth with your toxic waste forgive you?
Will the walls of this city and its crumbled roofs forgive you?

Will Iraq ever forgive you?

I am the wrong person to ask forgiveness from. Ask Her.
But before you ask Her, stop doing what you are doing.
You cannot continue in your ways and ask for forgiveness. It is simply not possible.

In the meantime, She will continue driving you out by the same and equal sheer force that you have used on Her.
Read Her history and you will know.
And trust me, you will come begging for Her Mercy.

Painting: Iraqi female artist, Nadia Mohammed Yass.

July 8, 2007

Short Bedtime Stories...

I would have really liked to sing you a bedtime lullaby. Alas, it is simply not possible. And in most likelihood, my voice will keep you very awake. Surely, I do not want to be a cause for your insomnia.
So am offering you a few short stories to lull you into unconsciousness, into a deep catatonic sleep...(not that you really need it.) But just in case you are losing sleep over the ongoing Iraqi genocide.

Once upon a time...

* Once upon a time, was Badiaa, Kamel's wife.
She lived in a small house, borrowed house. Her husband is detained by the American dwarfs and her son has been killed by the same dwarfs.

She would spend many hours sitting in her kitchen, talking to herself.
She sold most of the remaining furniture she had. Only three kitchen chairs were left and she confided in them. Sometimes pretending her husband or son were sitting opposite her and listening to her woes...

One night, not long ago, at 1 am, the "Iraqi" army and the dwarfs stormed her home.
They searched, ransacked and destroyed the little she had left.

"Why, why? Is it not enough you took my husband and killed my son. Why destroy the little I have?"
"It is for your own security. You have a sniper on your roof."

Of course, Badiaa has no electricity. She uses an oil lamp. One of the guards kicks the lamp.
No Genie or sniper came out. But a fierce fire spread wildly, catching the doors, the walls,the curtains and the chairs...

Half of Badiaa's house is now burned down.
"We will send you a cheque." They laughed and walked away in the night.

Now Badiaa has only one chair left in the kitchen. Her walls are smoky black, her doors burned to ashes and her curtains eaten up by fire...
She still sits in the kitchen. She has stopped talking to herself now that the two other chairs are gone.

* Once upon a time was Nasser.
Half of Nasser's family has been decimated, slaughtered by the dwarfs right where the Butcher prospered most...
Every other day Nasser has a funeral.
A family member, 20 years old was detained by the dwarfs and held up in some dungeon in Baghdad for months. No trial, no charges.
For months he was "interrogated" in that dungeon and then transferred to another dungeon in Southern Iraq, a sectarian Iranian stronghold.
After several months, the dwarfs decided to release him. No charges.
They called him up. "Be ready to leave. You will be signing some release papers tomorrow." One more night in the dungeon and he will be free.
That same day, the sectarian militias and some say the dwarfs (and I say both) bombed the prison. A prison filled with Iraqi sunnis.(Omar was there too.)
The boy is dead. He finally left the dungeon...free.

* Once upon a time was Radhee.
A bright, smart, quick witted man...
Radhee has been without a job for well over a year. Radhee is stuck in a walled Sunni enclave called Adhamiya.
Radhee spends his days devising ways and routes to get to the grocer without being shot at by snipers, militias or the dwarfs...
Radhee gave up his daily schemes. Besides you cannot find any fruits or vegetables in the Adhamiya market and meat and eggs are a luxury from the past.
Radhee has no electricity, Radhee has no gasoline.
So Radhee ingeniously invented a way to bake bread in his backyard.
He uses the legs of his furniture as wooden logs and places newspapers on top.
The whole invention makes for a flamboyant outdoor oven. Radhee and his family can now survive on bread and water. Nice home made bread baked on torn furniture parts and newspapers.
One hundred newspaper publications and "free" press have come in very handy. Radhee is now living happily ever "after."

* Once upon a time was Salam.
Salam, a beautiful, educated young woman...
After her kidnapping and her battering ordeal, Salam has become agoraphobic.
She not only is unable to leave the house, she cannot even leave her bedroom.
She lies in bed most of the time, staring at the ceiling and her staring is punctuated by sporadic screams "Please don't, please don't."

* Once upon a time was Raouf.
Raouf, a handsome, loving caring man...
Raouf can no longer sit straight. His ribs all are broken, his wounds badly infected...
He has more stories to tell you and me. Stories that his bruises kept well hidden.
Cigarette burns adorn his body like dark brown halos, like dim, dying stars...

Raouf cannot lie on his back, cannot walk, cannot move...
He is slouched all day and all night, inert, his head bent down and his pictures and papers safely tucked close to him...
Raouf sits, swallowing his open wounds and the stories they hide, in total silence...

Once upon a time, there was us, there was me.
Once upon a time, there were others, many others...
Once upon a time, there were peaceful nights and dreams.
Once upon a time, a long, long time ago.

Sleep well.

Painting: Iraqi female artist, Yaqeen Al-Dulaimi.

July 6, 2007

Hilariously delirious...

Let us see here. There is Mohammed Atta and now there is Mohammed Ascha...
Atta, Ascha, Gotcha...

They keep getting you with al-Kayda and the Atta's and the Ascha's.
Tell you warfare psychologists to diversify a tad. Innovate Dears, innovate.

Do you ever wonder why they keep calling him, them Mohammed... Atta, Ascha?
I mean why not Mustafa or Ali, or Hassan or Hussein or Abbass ?

I will tell you why. Mohammed is a very symbolic name.
No prophet has been vilified, demonized, satanized, as much as the prophet Mohammed, Peace be upon Him.

This is not new. It started with the Crusades. They called his followers,Mohammedans.
A word that does not exist in Arabic. Mohammedans...Next they will call us Attayans, or Aschayans...

French medieval litterature abounds with base, demonic descriptions of the Prophet.
He has been called all kinds of names. Lecherous, lustful, warmonger, peodophile, anti-Christ...And the portrayal has not stopped in Medieval times. In fact it has continued till this very day.

However your hypocritical politically correct stance does not allow you to proclaim publicly all the above, so what do you do instead? You devise plots and plans in which he and his followers can continue to be vilified...The Danish cartoons are nothing but a continuation, Dears...

So you call them Mohammed. Mohammed Atta, Mohammed Ascha...

I will not dwell on the bad Hollywood movie called 9/11. Very bad production, very bad producer...
All I can tell you is that it is getting repetitive and stale...Innovate Dears, innovate.
As you say in the Anglo Saxon world, get your creative juices flowing...But it is hard. The script is ugly and the players are third rate actors. I do sympathize.

When 9.11 happened, I was watching ZE CNN as Hosny Mubarak calls it.
The commentator and the cameraman showed the rubbles and the pile of dust covering screaming bloody faces. And in the middle of tons of rubbles, what did they find unscathed, untouched, in perfect mint condition? Mohammed Atta's passport.

The commentator flashed it to the camera lenses. I saw it with my own eyes on ZE CNN.
At that point, I was gripped with a hysterical laughter...Mohammed Atta's passport was found in perfect condition. And just by chance they also found some flying manuals in Arabic...I laughed even harder.
I know Arabic speaking pilots who confirmed to me that flying manuals in Arabic do not exist.

Of course at that point, I could not be bothered to ask what happened to the third plane in Pennsylvania...

Now getting back to the Ascha's and Atta's. And link it to the WMD and Iraq. And the Niger papers on Uranium and the reports from the British intelligence that drove one of your English blokes to suicide....

Such a bad movie. Such a bad plot, a bad script...Do fire the producer. Will you?

Americans, Brits, do you still need a bogeyman? After the fall of the wall, I would have thought that you would have matured a tiny bit...seems not...

Bad scripts and bad plots and Iraqis have paid their price with a million deaths in just 4 years.

Kayda, Atta, Ascha...They gotcha.
They got you under mental siege and they got us with their "creative chaos".

Fire the producer and change the script. Unless of course, you thrive on mediocre plots.

Painting : Iraqi artist, Sabeeh Kalash. " The Siege ".

July 5, 2007

A Postcard from Iraq.

Have you ever felt numb? Like a paralytic numbness?

I put the receiver down, stared at the wall, beyond the wall and saw yet another wall, and more walls...
Unable to move, unable to take a step forward, a step back. I was stuck in that spot for what seemed to be forever.
I felt the warmth of the cigarette, its heat, getting closer to my fingertips, almost burning me.
I guess the thought of being burnt took me out of this trance like state...that state of being walled in.

Some of you may recall that I already have 2 relatives who had been kidnapped and are now imprisoned in "Detention centers".

Kamel, 60 plus, is still in American "custody". He is sick and we have no news except that he is still alive...at least we hope so.

Omar, 19 years old, also detained by the Americans. Seems he has been transferred from American hands in Baghdad and moved to Southern Iraq.
When we enquired about him, they said that he is in a military hospital getting treatment in Southern Iraq.

That is very strange indeed. Bear in mind that Southern Iraq prisons are run by the sectarian militias from Iran and neither them nor the Americans actually provide any medical treatments in "hospitals".
How long will he be there? What is he suffering from? Is it possible to visit him?
None provides us with any answers.

I personally believe that Omar is dead. I believe that Omar has been killed. Possibly under torture...most probably under torture.

A few weeks back, Salam, another relative was kidnapped and badly battered, bashed up. I have already relayed her story in my previous post "Scream Quietly".

A few days ago, it was Raouf's turn. Now Raouf is very close family.

I chose to call him Raouf because Raouf in Arabic means "kind spirited, gentle..."
And Raouf is both. Raouf is a very gentle soul. A soft spoken man, who cared about poetry, philosophy, arts, animals, the land...which he cultivated with great care and love.

Yes Raouf is a very loving person. Early 50's, handsome, eloquent and very kind.

When a great aunt passed away, Raouf inherited a little plot of land. He was not a materialistic person. He contended himself with the little money that this piece of soil gave him. He reared on it birds, chicken and a few fruit crops and lived off its revenue.

Raouf lived outside of Baghdad, about one hour's drive from the capital.
When things got very rough there, we suggested he moved to Baghdad. Another relative lent him a temporary roof where he could stay with his wife. He has two grown up kids who have just finised medical school.

Raouf comes from a very well known family. Well known in the sense that his lineage is made of learned men. In fact his forefathers all the way down, were the first to institutionalize the first Islamic Jurisprudence and Theology school in 13th century Baghdad.

Raouf was getting restless in Baghdad. He missed and worried about his birds, chicken, trees and flowers.
"Who will feed them, who will water them?" he would exclaim. "I cannot abandon them. I am going just for the day"... And he left.

He arrived home and to his plot of land. A few hours later, a knock on the door.
He opened. Familiar faces from the district. Three armed men.
"Salam aleikom" he said. "Wa aleikom" they replied.

Then, they blindfolded him, handcuffed him and shoved him in a car.
His ordeal had started. His torture odyssey was about to unfold ...

He was held for three full days and three full nights. He was tortured NON-STOP for three full days and three full nights.

They used iron rods, chains, rubber hoose, sticks...
Sometimes the three pounded him in unison. Sometimes they would take turns.
The only respite he had is when they stopped for "prayers"!!!!

Again, the interrogation, the senseless interrogation.

"What have I done" he would scream.
"We found an empty can of beer next to your house door - why are you not growing a beard - why are you not wearing a long "thob" ... and they would pound him some more.

But fortunately they did stop for prayers and did not have drills!

- Ok how much ? he said
- 100'000 Dollars.
- Impossible. None of us have this amount.
- Who is us?
- Well, me, my family in Baghdad.
- Who is your family in Baghdad ?
- There is x. y, z and Layla A. Some lent me their house.
- So you are rich all of you.
- No, they just lent me an empty house. We are all unemployed.
- Sell the house and the plot of land.

They dialled a real estate agent. Raouf talked to him and begged him to find a buyer for the house and the land.
"Impossible" replied the agent, "none is buying."

The "pious" armed men lost patience.

So Raouf, tell us how would you like to die? Beheading? Have you throat slit? or a few bullets in your head? You choose ...

Raouf's wife showed remarkable courage. She was in constant contact with the "pious" armed men. She would talk to them, patiently with the voice of reason. Sometimes begging, pleading. Sometimes reminding them of their common neighborhood, people they both knew , maybe a neighbor, a distant relative, a school, a teacher, a grocer... Anyone, any name, any face that could be used as a bridge back to life.

His wife reminded me the way Shehrazade recounted endless tales to Shahrayar the king from the Tales of the 1001 nights. Thus delaying and preventing her beheading.
Except Raouf's wife tales was to prevent her husband's beheading...

She must have struck a chord somewhere in their collective memory.
They dropped him on the 4th day, in the middle of the night, on some dark street...

Raouf carried his wounds and his broken body and walked for miles before he could get any help at all.

And us, for three days and nights we would roam the rooms like animals in a cage, pacing back and forth...Praying, crying, bargaining, pleading, supplicating, begging, God, the Universe, the Darkness, the Silence, the Walls....

When Raouf finally arrived to Baghdad, the whole family went to visit him. A sight that could not be described in words.

Raouf was so badly tortured, he was unrecognizable. You cannot see his eyes anymore. His face, his nose are so swollen , as if about to explode with pain and hurt.

His body, his body, the marks of a thousand rods, chains, sticks on it. His legs, his back, his chest, his arms, his stomach... His white shirt was dark brown with blood.

Someone took pictures. For the memory, for the record, for the family album. An Iraqi family album.
Even though, I am certain that Raouf will never need pictures to remember. I know his character and his predisposition. I am sure these marks will stay with him forever...

It is a miracle he did not die from the torture. He has hypertension and a kidney condition. He could have easily died from a brain hemorrhage due to the beatings, or from kidney failure or from a cardiac arrest.
It is a miracle they let him go in exchange for nothing because there is nothing to give.
It is a miracle they did not kill him.
It is a miracle they did not drill him...

Look at us. See what a grateful, humble people we have become. We are grateful that our loved ones are tortured but not killed or drilled or have their eyes pulled out.
See what an obedient, grateful people we have become...You must be so happy at our docility now.

But Raouf died on the inside...I know it.

His voice was barely audible...He would speak and then his voice would gently fade away and his lips would stop moving.

"It hurts to breathe" he says. "It really hurts to breathe."

Then he manages another sentence, that he keeps repeating like some sacred mantra.

" I will crawl on all four to the border. Am willing to beg or become a street sweeper in Damascus. But I will not stay here anymore. This is no longer my country."
And his voice disappears again.

"Take the pictures" shouted another one. "Show it to the UN. Show it to the World...Take the pictures with you."

Take the pictures like you take a postcard and show it to others. Share it with others. A postcard from Iraq.

After the visit, some took turns to vomit, physically vomit, the sadistic, vicious, cruelty that Raouf had to endure.

Raouf is beyond recognition, a reflection of what has become of Iraq - Beyond recognition.

I reflected later on the "purpose" of it all. Why did they do what they did?

And now I am absolutely convinced that these armed men, so called "Al Qaeda", them along with the cars bombs, with the sectarian militias and their torture centers and their drills...are paid, trained and ordered by an American - Mossad - Iranian consortium to apply Bremer's policy: " Let us bring them down to 5 million."

A deliberate policy to empty the country by terrorizing all of us . I am certain of that.

And I say to these hyenas.
Have it all. Take it all. Swallow it. Gulp it down. Gob it up. And choke and die on it.
Take Iraq. Take it all.
This is no longer our country.

Mother said " May God guide them ".
Auntie Sameera said : " Umm Layla, are you crazy ? Why do you pray for their guidance"
To which Mother replied : " So maybe they will turn their attention elsewhere, away from us and forget about us..."

Yes take it all and forget about us.

So when some bastard writes to me calling me a "negative, whining, drama queen" because I am not using my "talents" to "uplift" the arrogant western minds into "Forgiveness and Beauty" - Notice how the occupier asks the occupied to uplift him/her!

I offer this postcard from Iraq instead of my usual "whining".
It does have a "positive" side to it. Raouf is still alive but a very broken man who is willing to become a street sweeper or a beggar in Damascus rather than stay one more minute in "Free" Iraq.

Yes take it all and forget about us. Just forget us...and let us breathe a little.
For it hurts to breathe, really hurts to breathe in Iraq.

Painting: Iraqi artist, AbulMaali, Hosni.

July 1, 2007

"Free" & Ruined Lives.

I am "Free". He is "Free". She is "Free". They are "Free". And you are only a spectator...
Free, Freedom, Democracy. I shudder at these words.
I want to burn Plato's Republic and spit on your Constitution, on your Founding Fathers, on your Laws...

Free limbs, detached, solitary limbs, scattered to the four cardinal points and a bleeding heart in the middle, like a compass.
An arm to the West, a leg to the East, a head down South and a torso up North...And that damned bleeding heart in the Center.

Free, so free...
Free, free in Prisons. Free, so free in Detention centers...
Detention centers in the Mnistry of Interior, Ministry of Defense and Ministry of Justice!
Crammed, packed, jammed... The smell of blood, urine and feces...covering the infected wounds. Wounds of torture born on transparent skins covering rib cages...
Free, so free.
Tortured and Free in American camps. Sodomized and Free - American democracy flavor. Tortured and Free, whipped by sectarianism - Iranian flavor. Oh so Free.

Free to die. Free to cry. Free to mourn. Free to flee. Free to escape. Free at the borders...jammed, packed.

Two thousand "free souls" flee a day. They amass at frontiers, waiting for a stamp on that damned Green passport...that cursed passport.
The passport with a broken winged eagle as an emblem. Clipped wings of Freedom.
It reads "Republic of Iraq."
Republic of whom? Iraq? What Iraq?

Two thousand a day. Grave faces, desperate eyes, lost voices...
A forgotten, abandoned people. A despised, humiliated, tortured, stolen people.
A raped people.
Lost voices in the wilderness of your indifference. The Lost voices of Freedom and Democracy...

" I have 8 children. Look at how I am living. Has anyone asked me how I feed those kids. I have been without a job for 2 years. I tell you how I feed them...I can't feed them. I spit on the U.N. I spit on the thief Bush. If I ever return to Iraq it will be to free my country from those criminals. I will either kill or be killed by them. There is no other way " says this worn out father who looks 3 times his age.

" The Iraqi government helping us? Are you insulting me or what? The Iraqi government has not and will never do anything for us. These are the most corrupt people in power that Iraq has ever known. They are sectarians and thieves. I don't want this passport. Take it now. I don't want this nationality. I am even willing to go to Somalia. Just find me a solution. Take that passport. Take it." says another father of 32.

" The Americans bombed my house. My 9 year old son was inside. Look at his face. He is burnt all over. His eyes are stuck and he cannot open them. His tongue is stuck to his palate and he cannot talk or swallow. And his head was stuck to his shoulder.
He has already undergone 9 operations and he needs another 9... He is only 9 years old. Look at him. I, myself, have 3 bullets lodged in my body. I served the Iraqi Army for 24 years. One in my thigh. One below my ribs and one in my back. I need surgery too. But I am not important. My son is. How will I manage? On my way here, highway bandits took all my money. I sold the house to come here. Now I have nothing. The boy needs treatment. No school is willing to accept him. One school did but the other students rejected him. They said he frightened them with his looks."

The father wipes his tears and you can see the look of being stuck in "Freedom".
Ah the look of America on his and his son's face. The look of " Freedom ".

Another one plays the lute. A melodious tune that makes your heart quiver. A languorous tune of longing that fills the empty space like smoke. A smoke soon dissipated into that nothingness of " Freedom ."

A couple with a paralysed little girl who needs urgent treatment. They have been there, waiting since the crack of dawn, at the gates of some embassy or the UNHCR. Others take to the pavements. They sit and wait some more... Long hours of waiting in the space of " Freedom ".

Free, Freedom...
Free comments on a blog.
And the rats crawl from the gutters...Rats droppings, Albert Camus's "the Plague". The same kind of rats that rule Baghdad with their droppings...
Rats everywhere, crawling the streets, crawling on this page, leaving behind them a trail of excrements wherever they pass.

Rats on the go. Rats exiting. Rats entering again through a different door.
The rat with the grey steel eyes. The eyes of lies and deception has exited only to re-enter again after having ruined our lives with Freedom. Now another rat has taken up his place.
The fat rat of Baghdad. The rats of Iran. The rats of America...
The plague of Freedom.

Free, Freedom, Democracy and forever Ruined lives...
Forever Ruined.

Painting : Iraqi artist, the late Shaker Hassan.