An Arab Woman Blues - Reflections in a sealed bottle...

I have been listening to some Sufi music. Sufi music is exceptionally beautiful. It has many varieties ranging from West Africa to its Horn and into North Africa, Egypt, Syria, Lebanon, occupied Iraq, occupied Palestine, Iran, Turkey, and right into the Balkans. It also covers the Indian subcontinent with the Kawwali version, all the way to Malaysia, Indonesia, and into the remotest part of Central Asia including China. Wherever you find Islam, you will find some form of Sufi music like a temporary cloak of Peace. Whenever I listen to Sufi music, I feel as if there is one corner of the world where it is always peaceful. That corner is not to be found on any geographical map but as the sufis say, it is in the Heart. The famous compass for all maps. Whilst being carried away by the melodies, I felt that corner of Peace. And in the midst of it, I thought I heard God speak. You see, it is not only Bush that hears God speak. I heard God too. He said and this time He took on a masculine aura...

An Occupied Shore I longed for the Sea. The sea represents to me the primal waters, the " Prima Mater ", the womb of the earth, the origins of every living thing. And the sea cannot be tamed. It imposes itself with its tranquility, waves and under currents... So, when a friend kindly arranged for a short day trip to the seaside, I jumped to the occasion and with great anticipation, hit the road. I thought to myself, this is the Ramadan season, the place will be at best empty or at worst will only host another "odd tourist" like myself... I could not wait to feel the sand beneath my feet and immerse myself, like in a baptism in the salty waters, as in a purification ritual. A purification of the body, the senses and the soul from the " negative energies " I have been carrying around like some excess luggage. And true to my expectation, the shore was virtually empty. I picked a spot in whatever shade I could find...Bliss, pure bliss. An hour later, two Russi...

There is a warm desert wind blowing... From where I am seated, I can see a full crescent moon and next to it, a bright shining star...There are a few palm trees swinging in the hot breeze...so are the Ramadan lanterns, giving off a steady, quiet, golden glow. Not too far, I hear a fountain and in between the trunks of the palm trees, I see more light reflected in the water... For a few instants, I was totally lost in this idyllic moment, where everything was a perfect as can be...I only wished I could stretch it all the way to Iraq and beyond ...So they too, can embrace this quietude, these seeming temporary moments of peace. Since yesterday's post, I have not stopped crying. I cried myself to sleep and when I woke up and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I burst out in tears again... During the day, I tried distracting myself with "things"...but every now and then , I would catch a few ones rolling down one cheek. I would discreetly wipe them away, pretending I h...

Is there anything in Iraq that the Americans have not destroyed ? Anything at all ? And you dare wonder why I detest you so much...And you have the audacity to come to my blog to question me about my origins, my location, my ideas, my roots, my sense of belonging... What kind of a race are you ? What kind of a people are you ? Yes, I said people not government. I am not politically correct. Your government is part of you and you are part of it. Like it or not. And don't come and tell me in your sheepish ways that I know all too well : " Oh, but I did not vote for this one. " I don't give a fuck whom you voted for or did not vote for. It is not my problem. My problem is you. Your culture, your behavior, your mentality, your character, your haughtiness, your arrogance, your false pride, your denial, your collective stupidity and ignorance, your way of life which I find boring, empty and distasteful, your accent which is an affront to my ears...and to my senses. I do not...

Raouf finally made it to Syria. For those of you who do not know Raouf's story , please read a Postcard from Iraq . At first, he tried Damascus. An old small "hotel" in the Sayyida Zeinab neighborhood, run by an Iraqi Shia, who turned the lobby into a Husseinya once a week.(Husseinya means a religious gathering for rememberance of the Imams Al- Hassan and Al- Hussein). The hotel owner kept preaching to Raouf about the problem with the "nawasib" i.e Sunnis. Every morning he was reminding him that if only the Sunnis praised Ahl Al Bayt (which they do), everything will be ok. And if only the Sunnis accepted that Imam Ali was the real inheritor of the Khilafat then all will be ok. And if only Aisha (the wife of the prophet) was not such a traitor, then all of this would have not happened. And if only Abu Bakr, Othman and Omar were not such hypocrites, then all of this would not be taking place... Raouf is patient by nature and he really does not give two hoots about...

I hate it when I have no computer. I hate borrowing someone else's. I hate cyber cafes. I hate accumulated emails to which I can't reply and I hate blog moderation... All seem like obstacles to the flow of things... I have some free time on my hands. I err daily. I think a lot and observe everything and everyone around me.I am part of nothing and nothing is part of me... I feel like an alien, strolling aimlessly...floating freely on the surface of things... I walked into a small stationery shop. I needed a writing pad. I had to have a writing pad. The shopkeeper pointed his finger to one set of shelves. " You'll find them over there. " he said. I approached the pile with reverence. Chosing a writing pad for me is akin to a meticulous ritual. The shopkeeper was getting impatient. " What's the matter, can't you find anything to your liking? " "No, no, just give me more time. " I replied, changing my accent... There was one with a Barbie ...

Hala, 65 years old, left Baghdad nearly two years ago. The Jaysh al Mahdi threatened to burn her and her house down. Hala lived in what is considered a middle class neighborhood. Hala is single, has no kids and both of her parents have passed away. Hala studied Business Administration and Economics and worked for a government ministry until the age of 55 when she took early retirement to look after her parents who were both sick. Hala lived off her pension and that of her father's. Meanwhile, she too developed serious health problems one of which is rheumatoid athritis with bouts that debilitate her to the point of near paralysis. At times, she is unable to walk and is chair or bed ridden for weeks on end. At age 63, after the threats received by the Mahdi Militia, Hala had no choice but to pack a suitcase and head to Amman with all her savings. There she was granted a yearly residence permit and she lived off her savings until " God relieves this curse "... A few months ...

What a drag it is to constantly write about misery and suffering. Yes, it has become tedious, boring, repetitive, tiresome... Either I am incapable of seeing anything else, or there is nothing else to see... Whatever the case, one does not get used to so much human pain, angst and distress. The Oxford linguistic group in charge of updating their English Oxford dictionary and Thesaurus ought to come up with new wordings and new definitions, specifically tailored to the tragedy of the Iraqis. Whichever word I use does not adequately describe what Iraqis are going through. Either my English is very limited, or the English language itself is very limited or you are just a thick skinned, callous bunch of "people"... Probably a combination of all three. One calamity after another has befallen a whole people. I am not even sure you are capable of understanding, comprehending, assimilating the extent, the magnitude, the impact of it... When I see what I see, hear what I hear and feel...

A someone I have been corresponding with for a few months now, finally solved it for me. This person lives in a Scandinavian country and has studied astrology for over 20 years. And she greatly preaches about Love and Peace. She has finally figured out what the real problem is. According to her readings, am born under some constellation of planets and her ephemerides unequivocally state that this particular constellation of mine was formed under the star sign Aries. Aries is traditionally known to symbolize Self Will, Birth, The Ego, and Independence. Aries is also a masculine fixed sign, an analogy for “ I am.” And it is a Fire sign. Now according to my astrologer “friend”, this constellation of planets at my birth denotes a combative nature who fiercely seeks Independence. She also confirms that the whole of Iraq, according to her readings, is born under an identical constellation of planets. But not only Iraq. The whole of the Middle East shares that same constellation. Except Israe...