War of Words...


Language, words, baskets of sentences...individual perceptions, experiences, the subjective made objective, black on white...the subjective becomes my objective world, it becomes MY world. It becomes my Word...

What is so difficult to understand about that ? No really, seriously, what is so difficult about this very simple equation ?

July 2006 - July 2010, 4 years I've been spilling my guts, on paper...not just my guts, but also facts, proofs, historical tidbits, my own personal history meshing into a collective history, another window, a different window...

I've wanted my blog to be a window...and eventually a door...first you look and if you like what you see, you enter...into the world of an Iraqi, into the voice of an Iraqi who refuses your lies...and who is holding onto that house, that home with a window and a door, made of words...

Is that too complicated to comprehend ?

And yet, for 4 fucking years, I've been getting nothing but self proclaimed interior architects, interior designers seeking.. change the window, change the door, change the roof, change the rooms, change the partitions, change the walls, change the layout...change to fit..

Fit whom ?

Fit whom exactly ?

You see you need to speak a language people can relate to, you see you need to mitigate your sentences so as not to offend, you see you need to win over more people, you see you need to influence the greatest number, you see you need to appear as one of them, you see you need to, you see you ought to, you see you must, you see you should...

Fit whom and where ?

Which language are we talking about here ?

The standard language, the homogeneous language set by the Occupier and his media and his think tanks ?

Am I expected to use the same language that destroyed my land, that destroyed my home and that destroyed our lives ?

Like what am supposed to do, cordially invite the traitors, the rapists, the torturers and killers into my home of words and take them on a tour of the house ?

Or maybe am expected to invite the apathetic ones, the indifferent ones over tea and biscuits with - excuse me please make sure not to trip over the cadavers on your way in....

Am I to tailor my language, my style, my decor, to suit my invading guests and their sleeping farting cronies or am expected to copy the in vogue language while their bombs are blasting outside my window, smashing my walls and ripping through my garden ?

So which one is it, honorable ladies and gentlemen ?

You drop bombs and you fire bullets, I drop words and I fire them back...

Had I been interested in winning over the sheep, I would have joined an animal farm...had I been interested in becoming a star, I would have tailored my language to suit you, suit you enough, but not quite...just the way you like it cooked - medium rare.

But this is not about suiting you, this is about protecting and safeguarding my house...my territory, my memories, my loved ones, my land, my history...and this is about exposing you.

I could have easily, so easily opted for a different language...placed a little picture of myself, given you my real name, and jaywalked through the maze of your political labyrinth -- that would have even earned me a couple of appearances on CNN, BBC, Al-Jazeera and maybe even Fox News...it would have earned me several interviews, maybe a couple of prizes, and a few job offers in prominent establishments...I would have earned your respect...because you would have managed to mold me into something that is acceptable to you...something in line with your values and ideals...the same values and ideals that broke my home, turned it into rubble and exiled me...I would have become a star...a celebrity...the kind of stars and celebrities you stamp with your seal of approval...

But I resisted all of that...I resisted all the attempts, all of them...whatever their form and under whatever package they were presented to me...however ugly or seductive they may have been...I made abstraction of the language you use and slipped through the punctuations and paragraphs like dribbling ink, like mercury...

I saw the traps, they were easy to spot --I just needed to look outside my window and see the desolateness of it all...


Painting: Iraqi artist, Rafa Al-Nassiri

Popular posts from this blog

Why ?

Image
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 u...
Read more

Endless Beginnings...

Image
For God's sake, tell me where to begin? I was set out to write about Father's day and the thousands of fatherless Iraqi children.The thousands of killed fathers, the thousands of fathers trying desperately hard to feed their families, daily putting their lives at great risk, in a country gripped by demonic violence. The exiled fathers, selling scraps in Amman and Damascus, bearing the brunt of daily insults. Or the unemployed fathers, feeling torn inside watching their kids go hungry. Or maybe the head bent down father, slouched posture, hiding scars beneath a worn out shirt. The father that has been imprisoned, humiliated, tortured and sodomized, unable to look his children in the eyes... Or maybe I should write about sexual torture and sodomy instead... The further horrors emerging from Abu Ghraib and the Taguba report... More reports of "abuse". And I am sure Abu Ghraib is not over. I am certain that more Abu Ghraibs are taking place in Iraq, in those shadowy deten...
Read more

Not so Kind...

Image
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 be...
Read more