American Toys

Tired of moving... and those visions in my head painting me pictures of leaving over and over. I don't know why I hate leaving. I have nothing to miss. I have no heart that misses... I am isolated with a thin invisible layer of ice that can not be broken, it has been tested by many bombs. I am trying to think why do I hate leaving, there is only one reason, it reminds me of the first time I ever left and believe me I left a lot behind.

What about you America? Aren't you tired of leaving? I don't think so... I don't think you have left anything behind... you are too young to understand what does it mean to leave your heart somewhere and go to the other side of the world without it. You are too young to stop staring at your image in the mirror . The mirror that is not more than an imaginary portrait you carry around to convince everyone that it is you. You are too young and foolish, you will see scary things when you grow up. Be always ready America for the time your fake mirror will stop lying to you. 

Faces pass by. Faces come and faces go. Empty eyes sliding away without leaving any trace.

America, why this city makes me feel so old?
Why do I feel like I have lived a thousand years and I am interested in nothing new or old. Why do I wake up every morning sad. I tried the American way food and shopping, didn't work. The Iraqi way, calling home, worked for the one night until morning came back and stripped away all the comfort my mother's voice has left.

America! Why am I telling you this? It is not like you care about how I feel. I told you America, you are too young and too foolish to care about how we feel. You are like a child, bored child, that needs interesting toys all the time to be entertained and not hurt himself. Iraq was a game that got too complicated for you so you found your closing line, it is Iraqis responsibility to finish the game. you bribed some murderers and bought some gangs to fight your wars and left. Left to your other more interesting toy Afghanistan. One would think that you have learned from the past that some games can grow into nightmares, but you never learn. You don't even admit it. Do you tell your self that you just go to higher more challenging level of games, is that what you thought of Alqaeda and Taliban?

Enjoy playing America.... One day playing time will be over and  you will grow , though it is  already too late.



     


       

Cities....

I can't love this city that I moved to. My first couple of months in the US it seemed to me that all cities and all people here similar that it was rediculous how much Americans talked about the big differences and they liked cities and hated cities so much. It took me a while to hear the heart beat of each city and realize how different they can feel.

This city lacks brain. It looks to me full of people who think that they are smart enough to run the world but actually I don't see why they think they have brain at all. They are too important to be nice they are not comfortable with themselves. I don't think I have met anyone so far that looked happy. Every thing here is cold except the weather. City that have no spirit no charachter. It is big and stuffed with big things, big square buildings and big monements that add more fakeness to it. Pretencious. Alot of loud statments and no meaning.

I whish that all of you America would look like the city I left behind. When I started to know you America I knew you through the eyes of that city. I have a friend that I told couple of times that I learned this or that about people here or I like this or that in this country and my friend used to say " no! You can't think of this city as if it is the whole country. You would be surprised how much most Americans are not just different from what you see there but they don't even think of this state as part of America" my friend was right I am surprised how much many Americans even hate that city. I wished that he was wrong. I wish that all America would look like that city. Though It is small but it feels bigger with its history and design, elegant smart and open minded. It is full of surprises. It has taste. It has some strange effect on people live in it. You see a touch of its spirit in their eyes. There is a flood of strangers fill the city every year new people come and almost equal number leaves every year but the city looks as strong and prodly keep it's face and its spirit and never lose its harmony. Just walking around its old streets fill you with peace and a sense of love. A city that tries to be truth to itself though sometimes its pride keep it blind like every where in america but least it is trying to see and listen very hard. A city that doesn't leave its poor people sleep without a roof even if it has to spend rather foolishly not to let them freez all night.

But here... I hate using the metro here at night becase when I leave the station I would have to walk by people buried under old blankets on the floor. Heartless city.
Every body here is a stranger no matter how long they lived here. You feel that they have nothing in common, it is like they hate each other.

You have many faces America and this is anothere one I don't like.

I think that two good things happened to me when I came here the first one is the city I started in and second the blessings of not watching American TV for my first two years. That is a whole different issue that I am not going to talk about but I honestly believe that there should be a new rule here preventing none Americans from watching American TV for least their first year. How can anyone starts learning about this country by watching TV will form any positive opinion about it. It is realy awfull.

If Americans realy want change then they have to change those two; their TV and their DC.

Many Things From Nonsense to Russia

I wrote what I feel
Then I deleted what I wrote.... Having the little power to delete words I wrote makes me feel that I might remove the feelings they carried as well…

*******

Sometimes being alone facing a white wall let as know about ourselves more than mirrors… Sometimes writing words without reason let us see what is hidden between our heart and fingers

Sometimes we need to be honest on how much we are scared of all that we don’t know about our human nature

*******

It was amazing watching that man_a friend_ pouring his ideals and morals in our ears… we do that … we all have higher values we are sometimes too weak to keep to ourselves… but I was listening and thinking what would that man do if he was a soldier in a dictator’s army, what would he do if he was a victim of other men and what would he do if every thing in one minute went wrong in his life… what would he do if he would face a challenge where he has a choice of doing one of two immoral things. We all feel weak sometimes and let ourselves talk about the great things we believe in… but I learned that none of what we say we believe in is true until it is tested… some people are lucky or unlucky they pass with little tests. I think that life is some tests but not tests we wait for to come (like what religious say when bad things happen) but many tests that we go to… it is not about gains it is about discovery… it is not about fear it is about being brave enough to face a challenge… I don’t understand why I feel fear time to time even with no reason… it just feels like there are many unknown things on the way and once I don’t see where is the battle I fear it will fall over my head in one second… I don’t really know why with all those thoughts and believes I panic sometimes over silly things and walk carelessly facing a fast car inches away. We are mysterious creatures.

What it is, America, that makes us so mysterious?

Probably ignorance…Probably lies we tell ourselves to keep things within the frame we chose for our pictures or least that what you do, aren’t you?

I looked at a picture of a Georgian woman walking away of a burning home… I watched ABC news today, in the two minutes they reserved for WORLD NEWS (all the world) was another Georgian woman saying “How I feel about Russians? They killed my brother.” Then for few seconds there was a tank shoving away police cars. That was surprising. I didn’t know that tanks can push cars I thought they can only run over them and crush them. Other than that the rest looked familiar. Oh! That is not entirely true because there was strange picture showing Georgian soldiers like defeated angels walking by burned town. It is strange because the Georgian soldiers I met the few times I was unlucky enough to pass through their check points were horrible and crazy that passing the worst American check points compared to them would be a good luck. I could see the devil in their faces.

America, what you think Russians tell their soldiers and their people to justify the horrible things happening their? I don’t know… Maybe “There is no war without accidental civilian casualties” or “Mistakes happens and soldiers are doing the best they can and react only to threats without any intension of harming civilians” of course what else do you think they would say? I am sure there is a lot of talk about “Evil Georgia” “saving Russian citizens” “defending Russia and its interests” it could be even more like “fighting Georgians in Georgia before they have to fight them in Russia” or “we are liberators not invaders” I am not sure about religious reasons but we never know, politicians usually use religion when it comes to war even if they have no God. Is there anything they say can justify what is happening?

Don’t be in shock America of their propaganda and horrible actions... When it comes to war you know how much lies politicians would pile in the face of their people and the world.

Well I talked a lot but “Do you know what I mean?”

I Have the Last Smile

The father 70 years, generous man and honest merchant. He loved to bring people together specially for barbecue and trips. His house was never without a guest. He and his wife helped many people they never rejected people asking for financial help even when the time was too hard for that kind of help. They even took care of a whole family when the father was captured during Iraq-Iran war (1980-1988) until the father came back, they offered him a job then later he was partner with one of their sons in a separate business.

Since his son was kidnapped he lived in a different world. He did not talk about it or about anything else, only silent tears, and time to time he would say things like "my son is gone" as if he was announcing it for the first time. He never believed for a minute that his son would come back, each time people say things to give the family hope, though he seemed absent minded sometimes he would shake his head and cry bitterly repeating his announcement that his son was gone.

He always embarrassed me with the nick name he chose for me and his praise in a full room of all kind of people, who most of the time I didn't know.

What else can I say about the dead man. He loved life and was good cook specially grilled meat and chicken, Ramadan desserts, his great vinegar besides olives and pickle.

Oh... and I have a picture of him the last time he smiled.

If there is heaven I pray it were he is.

19 Years Old Story

She is following me. Her eyes are there with all those calm tears flowing simply peacefully. I was a child in 1989 with my family in the north with a tourism company and almost a group of 40 people from Baghdad on a vacation. She sat beside me one night on the bus. I don't know why she suddenly opened her heart to a child and could say all those things that one probably won’t talk about but to a very close and a trust worthy friend. That was long long ago but with no reason her story just came back to me few days ago. I didn’t keep my promise to her not to tell anyone, I told my mom the next day. I couldn’t understand… that why I needed my mom to listen… I wanted to watch my mom’s reaction to know was it bad was it all a lie, it sounded like a movie or an imaginary story. Girls don't share love stories or admit them. It is usually a girl's most protected secret. Love was usually something people would deny unless they were married not something to talk about openly and simply. It seemed unrealistic. My mom just cried and said only one sentence “oh… poor little girl”. Couple of years after that my mom went to where that girl was working to check on her. There was some news that closed the story for my mom. It was a sad story that supposedly ended well. Why would a complete very much not a unique story would suddenly appear in my mind this way... strong and vivid…sad and heartbreaking? Why?It is like a nightmare sneaks to my thoughts and feelings. Her words… her tears… and all those feeling she described. I was only a child a very logical smart child but I couldn’t understand death and why people can’t accept it. I couldn’t understand love, it was so stupid.

The first night I remembered her I couldn’t sleep until 7 in the morning.

This is her story her feelings and my words…

“I am the only child for my old parents. He was the only young man in my life that was allowed to be so close to our family and to me. My parents thought he could give me some lessons in math that I wasn’t good at, after all he was a relative ... a decent polite young man that they could trust to be with me for couple of hours every now and then helping me with hard classes, they loved him before I did. For them I was only a child and he was about to graduate from university (back then when a young man graduate from college was considered a mature and responsible man). He graduated and was taken to war and I grew up and fell in love. ” Her face was glowing as if she recalled all the happiness she once felt. “It wasn’t like those love stories in movies. It wasn’t one look or a sudden feeling. When he first came to help me with my school work and to review some materials with me, I was impressed with how smart he was.. he just seemed to know everything not just with my classes but also he was helping my father fixing things around the house. I have never heard anyone say anything bad about him. Everyone loved him. As a shy girl it was very hard for me to sit with him thinking how stupid he must thought I was. But later I trusted him and got used to show it when I felt stupid. I didn’t fall in love… I grew and my feeling towards him grew. Like small seeds growing to a big tree and you wonder every day you watch it if this can grow any bigger and it always does. Since he went to war he visited us each time he came on a leave from his military service for one whole precious day of his three days which includes transportation. Each time I thought that I couldn’t love him more than that… there couldn’t be more love in this world than that, he would come on a leave and I would see how much more I could love him. I don’t know how my life became all about him. I did my best in school to impress him I did everything thinking how I would tell him about it. I was living for him and to see him for a day every leave… could be in weeks could be in months but it was what gave all the meaning and joy to my life. I didn’t know it was love until he told me so… his few love letters were my treasure music prayers and air. When he told me that he was planning to propose and ask my parents permission to marry me next summer after I finish high school before I would go to college, it was like he touched me with magic and gave me wings. I wasn’t walking I was flying. I could never be sad or angry about anything in the world I only could feel and think about him, he was the whole world. He told his family. I was too shy to tell even my mother but they all knew… they were all expecting and waiting. I couldn’t wait for summer. It was getting closer and my final high school exams were coming at last. We ere so happy until one day before he left our house he told me like usual to take care of my parents and study well then he asked me to promise him that I would be happy no matter what would happen to him. He was very sad and I was very mad. How could he ever say something like that? after all it made no sense that something would happen to him how am I going to to live? it is impossible! God can't be so cruel.. we are getting married in few months. I tried to forget it until one day I felt that my soul was being taking from me… I couldn’t sleep for a week I was crazy worried about him. Then it was on the news that a battle was there where he was. Next day we got a call from his brother telling us that his body was on the floor of their living room. I lost my mind or that what everyone thought. I was telling them that he was coming back… he had to… I was 17 I never wanted anything badly that I couldn’t get… this wasn’t anything this was all my life…I stopped eating, talking, sleeping I was falling in the void. Doctors, hospitals and medicine couldn’t really help me. It didn’t make sense that I couldn’t see him or be with him, his voice and face were filling my world, they still are. I am talking to him all the time and when I need him I would have a dream where he would talk to me and answer my questions. After a year living dead my father got really sick and everyone accused me of killing him slowly… since then I started to pretend for my old parents that I am living. I didn’t know how to live I couldn’t remember life before him or ever imagined life without him. I was like a child, just did what I was told and pretend to sleep and pretend to eat and pretend to be watching TV with my parents. My father got better, by then it wasn’t as hard to pretend… I was acting which made everyone’s life little bit easier. I couldn’t go back to school or even think about it… I took some training and started work as a nurse… watching people on the line of life and death...people in pain like he was…some people I helped get better like I wished for him. I go to bed every night thinking I might not wake up tomorrow...I could die and be with him. Every day I open my eyes I say to myself that I have one more day to live… just one more day.” She was wearing headscarf. Only few women wore headscarf by that time mostly old women. “I pray all the time for him. At the beginning I hated God but he told me in one dream that it was wrong and that I shouldn’t. I started praying since then…praying for him, God is the only one with him… then I started thinking that he was too good to live with us and God loved him too much to let him here in this world. Then I learned to submit to whatever God wants. That made life bearable. It has been almost 5 years and sometimes when someone knocks the door I run thinking hoping it could be him.”

My mother went to the hospital where she worked around mid 90’s to ask about her. I couldn’t forget her story because I couldn’t understand; my mother couldn’t stop thinking about her because she understood. They told my Mother that she got married to a man I can’t remember if he was widower or what but they said he was a good man, they didn’t know if she would go back to the hospital after her marriage leave or not. I hope that she didn’t get married to please her parents. I hope she is happy though it is hard for me to imagine happiness there but who knows where she could be now.

Maybe breaking my promise to her about not to share her story one more time will help me stop thinking about her. I just want to stop feeling sad for a period of someone's life...She passed it... She started another life. She is the only one who talked to me about it because I was too young during 80's Iraq-Iran war. How many women lived this story? How many women are living this story? How many will?

What to Do!

America,

Couple of days ago I went to watch a documentary about Iraq. It was directed by an Iraqi man in 2003. It was the first time I watch a documentary or anything about Iraq without tears. It wasn't Iraq through a pity eye of foreigners, it was Iraq after war through an Iraqi eye whether I agree with that Iraqi or not least thing to be said is that it was a real picture without much enforcement to translate the pain or hope to American colors picture. It was simply what people where saying after war. No drama has been added... no more drama was needed. It is not an art work to make things more interesting. Iraqis are not Egyptians, they never felt it is necessary to make the truth surrounded by anything else assuming that everyone in the world sees things through their eye where mere truth is more interesting by itself. Iraqis are probably wrong in their assumption, and we have long way to go before we learn in Iraq how to communicate our simple facts to this selfish world where you need to make a show just to say things like put murderers in jail or stop shooting innocents.

What stopped me and was about to bring me to tears was an American man who spoke during the discussion that followed with the film director.

"I am American man from the suburb. I feel sorry for all what is going on and for what we did to your country. I want to do something but I don't know what to do. I sent my son to Syria to help Iraqi refugees there but I don't know how helpful was that. How can we help? Tell me something my family and I can do"

Then the film director who is an Iraqi professor in a university in NYC replied. I am not going to write all what he said, you know professors love to talk, but I will just mention some of it.
" What you do is great.... You did more than most Americans who are not paying attention or feeling guilty for supporting..........(long speech about sleeping Americans). Raise awareness, talk to people continue what you are doing....... Americans need to stop this from happening again under their names...."

OK! But! What are we telling the man to do to help our people? What was the message to all Americans who were sitting their.

"I want you to feel the pain. I am here showing you this film not to sleep tonight. I want you to feel guilty" That what Sinan Anton said at the end of the evening.

Sinan is doing what many people are trying to do, telling the truth they see and show true color picture. America! That is all great but! When that American man asked that question, Sinan didn't have the answer neither any of the Iraqis who were sitting there including me. Yes! I always say ' Prevent another Iraq from happening again' but that moment this wasn't an answer.
We realize that our Iraq is gone and the Iraq we wanted is not possible any more. We are angry and sad beyond words and pictures. If we are saying there is nothing to be done. IF we are telling you America that all we want from you is not to sleep tonight and feel guilty. If we are going home feeling that we did what we can by making you, America- the monster, feel sorry for your mistakes and feel sad for our pain. If we can go to sleep telling ourselves that it is their turn to take sleeping pills then there is something wrong.

I never believed in transferring pain. There is no video or picture, not 1000 page of daily Iraqi tragedy can make one person feel that pain. I don't want you to feel pain America! I don't care how guilty you feel. This is not going to change my life nor the life of 26 million Iraqis. This is not going to change simple little reality that Iraq's future for 50 years to come is being destroyed with all those children growing up in burning country and God knows what values they held. How much anger do they have? What do they believe in? I don't know but I know your hopes of your happy end where there will be only some sad stories in history books and many many poor people grow to be beggars, farmers or gangs fighting each other away from you is not going to happen. This world is getting smaller and you America will eat the food you cook.

I know that you are not so smart America. But If the whole world told you to feel guilty and not sleep the night only, you shouldn't be that stupid to believe it. You have to fix it, not to prove that you are noble but least be selfish enough if not to let the world see that you are not as stupid as they think.

You do what you want as always, which is not the best for you necessarily, but I know that we, Iraqis, should not sleep before we are able to answer when the next American feels guilty and ask 'What can I do?'.

One in Black Day

I wear black today. My little flag was on my shirt. With my black hair and red shoes, it felt right.
It is my day in April. April knocking again. Five years can't take the pain away... I almost stopped wishing for that.

People today were having a normal life... Can anyone be blind not seeing the anger not hearing the screams which I feel live through the years so vivid but maybe only in the prison of my memory. those people seem to pass the day without noticing anything that happened on the other side of the world. Five years ago it was impossible for me to imagine that around the world life was just going on. Today I am looking around watching people, wondering if that what things were like five years ago when time stopped for us.. When we walked to death in the slowest pace.... When it all fell apart... When we went back to life, though around a hundred men and kids didn't.... When all that happened people were going to work.. worried of missing a train... thinking of the coming final exams, looking for jobs... sipping coffee... excited about spring.

I promised them I will not forget... I am keeping my promise... I am sorry that our front door was locked because I insisted on my father to do so..though he thought I was crazy, he did it on a break in the middle of the fight. We found a shot in the lock. some of them wanted to break in... It is true that they maybe were fighters who wanted to use the house in the fight and get us all killed but they might been just wounded kids looking for a shelter to die in peace. This last thought tortured me for long nights. I know they don't care about it now... but I know how horrible it is to die like they did... if they only knew that they will be buried... If they died in one piece... If .... I know it is not the same... I know that what I did possibly save my family but it is still painful to think that someone died in horror because the door was locked...

Sometimes memories pass through my eyes like a movie ... like if they happened in a different life but when I close my eyes and hear those screams again, it is not like yesterday but more like if its happening everyday to me...

I don't want to be killed. I don't want another human to take my life. I want to look at God face without fear... without questions and die in peace... Everyone should!

I Don't Speak Arabic

She came to my house for help.
I am Iraqi. She is Palestinian. That was entertaining for her, unfortunately not for me. First thing she said was
"Did you hear the news?"
"What news?"
"The last report about the estimation of the number of people who died in Iraq, they say it is more than a million"
"Oh! Yes.. well I estimate a million in 2003 only"
"Yes during the war Americans ...."
"No! Actually I meant during the chaos after war "
"Million is a big number for them to face. They were crazy when there was a talk of 400,000. They denied the 400 thousand let's see what they gonna say now.They deserve it "

Oh! The subject wasn't about Iraq! It was about Americans. When I stopped being stupid and realized that, I remained quiet. I am not interested in talking about my people as numbers or sharing her excitement because the number was too big for the administration to cover or deny. Same time I wasn't rude enough to express my opinion honestly about what she was saying.

I changed the subject to what we were doing finally. After few minutes she started again:
"We love Saddam"
....
"Half of the kids in my town now are named either after Saddam or his sons "
....
"I have all the songs that were made for him I look for them and download them"
"Are you serious?"
"I love him. Of course I am serious. He was the only one who helped us. He was the only real man among Arab. He educated our sons and daughters for free in Iraq. He treated sick Palestinians for free in Iraqi hospitals."
"Yeah! He paid for Arabs from other countries to come and study in Iraq and let Iraqis leave their schools because they couldn't survive without working all day. He treated Arabs for free in Iraq while Iraqis were dying"
"Look at the big picture. He was a hero..."
"You know what, I have something else to do. You go ahead finish and consider yourself at home"
"No please, stay just little bit more I can't finish all that.... I will send you this Palestine CV. There is a part saying' I had 23 brothers but my older brother died and I am an orphan after him...' let's face it, all other Arab countries are not even worth cursing and after Saddam, honestly, we consider Iraq dead"
......
"Don't be mad, it is a fact. Iraq died after Saddam"
.....
"Honestly, we are happy for what is going on there now"
I was thinking that I got that wrong or I didn't hear well.
She continued "We don't want anyone to die but we are happy for what is going on in Iraq now. Oh! by the way what is your family name?"
I was now sarcastic telling her my last name which was neutral "and why are you asking?"
"nothing just curious but I meant your family name as tribe name"
"Oh! Is it time now to classify me as sunni or shia? "
"You should be proud of what you are no matter what"
"I am proud of what I am. I am Iraqi Muslim. That is not enough for you!"
"I didn't mean any thing."
"You did. I really have to go finish my work" I left the room
"wait don't leave me please I can't finish alone"
"Maybe Saddam or Uday will send you angels from the sky to help you. Sorry I can't"
......
That is why I avoid speaking Arabic. I learned that the hard why. When I first came I was happy to meet Arabs selling at a store or working at a restaurant. I spoke to them in Arabic, gave them double tip. 90% of the time it was a stupid thing to do.

Once at a Lebanese restaurant I was with American friend. When the waiter knew that I am Iraqi he welcomed me in Arabic then asked me about my name. I told him my first name but he asked for family name. I didn't get it that time I told him with a surprised look but obviously it wasn't satisfying enough, he said "I thought it could be Ali or Omar". Only then it came to me that his question was Shia or Sunni, all I said was "NO".

Almost every time I face the same question. While non-Arab respect my answer as 'Iraqi only', it is never enough answer for most Arabs I meet. I have to be Shia or Sunni. I have to satisfy their sick curiosity and lack of respect for Iraqis tragedy. They need to know which side I am on to enjoy attacking me or attacking the other side. I remember the day before Christmas a year a go. I was invited for Christmas dinner next day and I was all day with friends who came from other states. I remembered that I forgot to buy anything as gift only when all stores were closing. One of my friends, who was from Dominican Republic, offered to come with me to look for any store that might be opened. We finally found one, I picked something and gave it to the seller to rap it. His phone rang and he was speaking Arabic. When he asked me which color I prefer I answered him in Arabic with a naive smile. He asked from where I am, then my name, then if I was Sunni or Shia. "I am Iraqi Muslim" But that wasn't something he could understand.
He started his flood of nonsense. He was mentioning weird things as a mere truth of what is going on in Iraq including a completely reversed news. I corrected him but he said
"No you are wrong"
"Well I came four months ago from Iraq and I know what I am saying"
"My brother was working in Iraq during 80's " that was 20 years ago I couldn't really see how it was relevant to his stupid theories. Then he add one more source "I listen to news every day .. and I write them down. I know everything"
Yaser went on and on with the crazy things he was saying. He ended up glorifying Al Qaeda supporters in Iraq. I asked him if he belongs to a group that feeds Al-Qaeda ideology in Iraq. He stopped talking for a moment looking at me thinking how to avoid 'Yes'. He decided to pretend that he didn't hear the question and continued his stupid imaginary events and analysis.
Meantime my Dominican friend was in panic. He couldn't understand a word we were saying but Yaser looked scary for him with his beard and tense discussion. He went outside looking for our friends then he came back. He called someone, then finally he decided to save me "We have to go" it was only then that I noticed how uncomfortable he was. He looked at Yaser " sorry to interrupt". When we left he told me "I was afraid that this guy would do something to you" he added "What could I do if he did something to you. I thought the best thing is that we leave. Sorry, if I was rude". I explained to him that Yaser was only a stupid man and stupid people in Arab countries discuss politics this way, though , he wouldn't do anything to me. I thanked him for saving me. I wish there was someone to save me all the times I couldn't realize that those people are speaking different language and belong to some imaginary world in their heads.

I am happy to limit the Arabic I talk here to my Iraqi friends and the very few reasonable Arabs I know. I realized that we don't speak the same language. The level of hypocrisy some of them living is hard for me to live with. I can't really relate to that nonsense anymore.

One Iraqi man told us a story about two guys he met one of them was Saudi and the other was Kuwaiti. When they started the speech about how can he be here in America and how can he not be there fighting Americans in Iraq. He asked them why are they in America and why they opened their land for Americans to attack Muslim country like Iraq without fighting them.

When I meet those people I just wonder if the problems of Arabs now are in their dictators only. I wonder if the language they are speaking is Arabic at all. If it was, then I don't understand it. Maybe what I am speaking is not Arabic after all. I think that is right, I don't speak their Arabic at all.

Al Hili

I tried to remember the poem of the famous poet Safi Aldien Al Hili I could remember one verse but one word. WHITE ____, our battles BLACK , Our homeland GREEN and our swords RED. It is a classic Arabic poem full of pride and arrogance. We learned it by heart with so many others in Arabic language and literature class. I forgot what was white, I have all the right to forget the white but I wanted so bad to know. I googled it. I wrote in Arabic Al Hili. The page was full of jewelry , dessert recipes and a lot of Saadi Al Hili's songs. I doubted for a moment that there was such a poet. I found him after all with this famous poem at the third page. What is going on to have Arabic web pages full of singer food and jewelry but ignoring such great poet. Anyway, I found the white it was "our deeds". I forgot what was white I have the right but the next generations will forget the green too.

They were the Iraqi flag colors. We used to repeat that verse a lot when we were kids at school connecting the colors of the flag with the pride and power of the old poem.

They changed the flag. No stars and nothing green. Blood and sadness were left alone fighting over the little white in the middle. I just don't see why the white still in the flag at all. Oh! Maybe it is left for the next parliament to take care of it and have an a achievement to make.

The funny thing is they changed the flag because it was changed to that by Baathist but same time they Bathist be part of the parliament and kept the changes that was made by Saddam Husein!

Someone thought that stars are not important to guide us in the dark nights not we need green to grow and fight the blood and black sadness and smoke. The green was a problem that why they removed it from flag and before that from streets. Stars were bigger problem I don't remember seeing any since war started except on the flag as smoke was covering Baghdad sky since day one war till now.

If Alhili is not forgotten yet then he will be soon. The one day I spent looking for the poem I was looking at so many other poets and beautiful poetry. It was such a journey made me think how much my life was rich reading all the poetry I read and how much the new generation is missing not having a chance to know but little of any higher level of poetry than songs of Hussam al rassam and Chaechan stupidity on Arabic TV channels.

You Are Ugly Tonight

Tonight.. You.. You look ugly America!
You are ugly tonight...
Like the wounds you leave behind... Like your lies.. Like your selfishness. You have so many faces, now your cruel hard face full my sky.

I was sitting in my big chair .. No I curled in it like a fetus in a womb. It makes me feel safe. With a sad angry singer first singing then followed by Um Kalthoum's confident strong voice, too many memories were running in front of me for hours.

There is a little secret window we can look through it at our souls. I was looking through mine. There were so many scars and pain you caused. Too much pain to ignore or to live with. I will leave. Next summer America you will enjoy it alone, without me.

Do You Have Memory?

America,
I figured out the secret. I was watching a movie, a love story. There was a scene, one minute or two, about WWII. Do you know what I did? I closed my eyes and listened instead of looking. I do that to see how good they could do war scenes. War is sounds plus other things that would follow. You can't have a good scene with some noise that should mean "bombs", the music of terror and death. You should learn how to play it right on the screen like you play it madly on the ground, America. It is least you can do. Anyway, I closed my eyes... in a second I was in tears. It is annoying and embarrassing each time this happens. I was alone today in my room watching the movie, but if I am with friends, it is just silly. I hate it when I feel those tears in my eyes in a second no matter what is the movie about, as long as there is a battle. Once I went with two Indian friends to watch Pirates of the Caribbean. Who on earth would go in tears during that movie? I did. I was lucky that the guy sitting in the chair in front of me was really tall and there was empty chairs beside me so I moved leaving a chair empty on both sides. That was perfect, none really knew that I closed my eyes and listened in the last big battle for seconds only to spend the rest of the movie fighting tears.

Just now I figured it out. I should keep my eyes open. That is it.

America! Don't close your eyes. Bad things happen sometimes when you do. I, personally, will keep my eyes open and look instead of listening for the next movies. You'd better do the same in your current campaigns- movies. When you close your eyes you will give words and sound power and excess to manipulate you, to reach to your deep hidden memories, hopes and dreams. When they talk, open your eyes. It is not only about words, but who says them too. Like those bombs in movies, it is not the sound who makes me cry it is the memories that connected to it. If I keep my eyes open those battles will stay in the studio where they were filmed and won't jump into my memories. When I close my eyes the source of images my head will be flooded with is not the movie but the real war I have been through. You let fake things drag a lot of real things from you and mix with it. True good real things would be be like a beautiful box carrying trash of lies.

America! Don't close your eyes. It is the secret for those of us who have memory to stay in reality and not be fooled by sounds of battles or words of presidents.

Oh! America! Do you have memory?

You Did That !

America…

I went on a trip with some friends. I lost my watch. It was very sad thing to lose this one. I was upset… I was sad. I kept repeating “I want it back”.

There is another thing making me little sad lately, my hair. When I first arrived here I didn’t know what is wrong with people in America. They would stop me in a store to say “your hair is beautiful”. It was nice to hear it every day. Once someone was looking at me in annoying way, “I am sorry but can I touch your hair”. After one year in America my hair is really tired that it is falling, my hair use to be like my mother’s rarely fall. Now, my hair is falling. I don’t know if it is shampoo, water or food.

Did you read what I am writing, America?

Sad because I lost a watch I love and my hair lost the magic of Baghdad nights!!! I am normal!!! I care! I can be silly. I am concerned that much about my hair. It is so amusing that it makes me laugh.

It is reminding me of how happy I was to be able to go out alone when I first arrived a year ago. or the first time I was walking out telling myself to stop being so conscientious of everything around me ready for surprises. It took me a while to be able to walk feeling safe and careless. I smile when I remember that now just like I smile each time I feel sad about my watch or my hair.

You did that. Thank you America!

New Year Gift 1

One night last January I slept at 3 am the phone rang 5 am, didn’t know if I was dreaming or it was real. It was late when I got up to answer. I couldn’t know who it could be. It was international call but I gave this number to my family the last 2 days only. There is no reason for them to call my cell while they can call my land line cheaper when they know I am home! I went back to bed but it rang again.

“Hello”

“Hello” in Arabic “how are you?”

This wasn’t a family but it was a voice I know well. My thoughts where trying to figure out the wrong way. I was thinking of the circle of people my cell phone number could get to. The only Iraqi female friend that has this number was visiting me and sleeping in the next room that night.

“Who is this?”

“You can't know me?”

“I do but I am confused”

“It is me, H”

“I am sorry” I was still half a sleep. It can’t be more than a joke or wrong number “who?”

“You forget about me? I am your friend H”

“Really?” I woke up.. I jumped from my bed “How are you? I thought I will never talk to you again”

“I want to talk to you”

“How did you get this number?”

“Do you have internet connection? Are you online?”

“Yes” I am in America!!! I do.

She gave me her Yahoo email address I add her and waited. Thinking how could she possibly get my cell phone number? My family left the country and she left to different country before they left. There was no way!!

I was happy. I was excited.

I waited all morning but she never came ... all month.

My Body Decide!

Few days ago I read news and looked at 300 pictures about Iraq , next morning I was talking to my family. Few hours later I was sick.
"you need to go to the Hospital" the nurse said.
"Now!! I can't. I can't be sick now!" I am busy.
"I am sorry, but you have to go as soon as possible. Listen to me, you are sick!"
It is stress that caused all this, they told me. I am stressed, yes. I am in America, this part of the life that I am not used to and I don't like. It is not stress. All I did was looking at some pictures of my people and listen to the voice of my mother like a divine music, though, discussing some crisis.
A man who was burned to death was the picture that hurt me most. His body was like a statue, with one arm up, like he was waiting for a rope to fall from heaven to lift him up from the fire. I apologized for him because I dare to look at his most personal moment like I am looking at a work of art. I apologized that there are people allow themselves to take pictures with no respect. I felt horrible.
Next morning I was talking to my family looking at their faces on the screen. I could hold my tears till the end. Then I was crying like I haven't cried for months, I really miss them.
Our bodies are miracles. My body wants to stop my emotional pain with physical pain to distract me, to keep my mind off. To push me to think.
I wonder why is it so different here? why are the pain and anger different that much when we are away?
My body forced me to think. I see little light in my heart again and I feel the power of existence.

The Key to Good Death

It is April America. Still April... Every year, nobody dare to stand up and remove it from the calendar. I think, though, that someone turned the whole year to 12 months of repeated April. I can talk about the crime that called war the way I lived it. I can do that if I don’t feel shame, as what I lived is being lived in Baghdad every April- I mean every month. My April the 8^th was horrible but what can I say when each Iraqi now has his own 8 and his own April.

4 years but the death voice still fresh, like the blood, the smell of the battle, the pain. Fresh, like the face of God memory, horror, the screams of men dying slowly on streets, the waiting for my turn to let my voice up in the face of God- dead people can only see one face.

I think, the key of good death is to let life go. When I finally surrendered to death and God (that day 2003) I felt peace. “I want to sleep” I said calm, after horrible hours, though we were still not done yet “I have headache I can’t take those sounds anymore, if they can just stop for an hour”.. My mom thought I lost my mind or I fainted, my body under her arm relaxed suddenly and I stopped the crazy things I was saying “dear, are you fine?” she said. “Yes, I just need to sleep” when I was free of my persistence to live, everything was clear, I saw things fear didn’t let me see “we will be all fine, don’t be afraid”.

America, do you think Iraq could be better if it just knew the key to good death. Do you know that waiting for death is worst than death itself? Yes, you would beg for a bomb to stop the torture and the scenarios you have in your mind about how you are going to die the next few minutes.
Same in Iraq, if they just finish it all at once, we will be dealing with a fact not waiting for unknown fate between hope and fear. If Iraq is impossible to be, just get people out and leave it completely empty. Turn it to big polluted museum or just huge cemetery. If this will be the end, just do it peacefully and fast. Is it better if Iraq let life go and stop trying to survive?

I grew up believing that my country worth more than my people. If generations after generations of people need to die and suffer to build great country for the future we have to die for the future. They taught me that! Is this what we were dying and suffering for all those years? People still somewhere say “we die to let our country live” as they always did. I can’t understand what does this mean anymore!
All I know is that the people who scream it louder than others don’t die; they become presidents and heroes in school books, but those who believe and follow, die. But the country where all this happens get no better than it was before the big human sacrifice for a flag that equals God.

Even the great example they taught us in school: Algeria.

1.5 million Algerians died to liberate the future Algeria from the French and give their sons and daughters free great country. At the end the leaders became presidents and the sons and daughters of those who died for the future are immigrants in France, their sons and daughters are French!

I don’t believe in revolutions. I don’t believe in wars. I don’t trust those who talk about good, evil and duty.

Harith Al-dhary lead the mosques to urge people to fight and die since 2003. but he is living wealthy life out of Iraq. With huge bank accounts which he got trading with Iraqis sons and daughters lives. But people believe; Arabs pay him and mosques urging people to follow him and die sometimes to liberate Iraq from Americans other times to liberate Baghdad from Shia.

I thought that we created countries and borders to make people’s life better and safer, and we created the flag to unite those people under a symbol. Somehow borders became more important that people and flags became part of wars and strange ideas. In the north they have their own flag but they are part of Iraq. In America they poison death peace with flags filling cemeteries. I visited cemetery seeking for peace; it was painful to see those graves with flags! Are we uniting the dead? I talked little to a woman, before I asked “I am sorry but I want to ask you a question. It is my first time to cemetery here; I don’t understand why people put the flag on graves”

“It is America flag!!” she was looking to me like if I am denying that Jesus was ever born.

“I know but when people die they are just people not Americans not anything”

“I know, you think I don’t know, but this is America flag!”

Ok!! I bet you America that Americans believe if we put this flag on Saddam’s grave he will go to heaven.

God bless America: God discriminate against none-Americans! If Americans say they are dying for other people’s freedom, why is it hard to give a little free bless from God -who many Americans don’t believe in -to non-Americans? I wonder if there is any copy of the bible with the American flag.

It is not right anymore! This country-future-flag invention is not working for people’s good. Is this all we can think of? We invented computers and will go for vacations in the space but we can’t invent values for peace?

But what that has to do with my Key to good death? Just let illusions go and surrender? Will that make peace?

What? Game Over?

It is snowing again now. I can’t stop the snow from falling. What made me think that stopping the earthquake was possible?

You are running out of the crime scene America! Is it too big for you? It wasn’t at the beginning but you were too small to handle it. Though, those people still live the illusion of the US power and image!!

“We couldn’t stand against war at the beginning because we would have been accused of being less patriotic. It was hard after that to stand and ask to get out of this war because the US image in the world will be weak, losing in front of terrorist” A students’ leader.

Image!!! It's more important than my life and 26 millions people’s lives.

Your image issue now solved. You are not losing “a war against terror” no, not at all, you are just can’t be in the middle of crazy people fighting each other anymore! If they want to fight, what are your innocent soldiers doing there in the danger?

Thank you America! You liberate and left the free men and women to choose the way they want to die, killed inside Iraq or die slow outside watching everything fall.

Take your sons and daughters now. Take them to your heaven! American race doesn’t deserve to live in the Iraq you made us not for a year. They can’t stand watching blood and live in threat but our children can.

Don’t be sad America! Never! You played a game called war, it didn’t work. It is ok! Move on! You have enough ink to full your bookstores and make good profits out of the bad news.

Sell it! You can sell everything America even yourself.

Live your illusions to the end… you will wake up someday. We did! Just let me warn you that it is not pleasant at all.

Anger

America, what happened?
Why it turned out like this?
I came here with no anger. You give me back all the anger I fought so hard.
What is it? Me , or is it you? Maybe it is what I was criticize about others. I used to know how far the person belong to Iraq and how much he/she didn't see of the situation misery by their anger. I just listen how much they speak about Iraq and how bitter. I know from their voice and anger that they didn't really live it , they were not there in any of the hard times. They are so angry. They argue all the time. They listen to Al Jazeera and read all newspapers; they read books about the war and they so in conspiracy theory. I am not yet doing this ! But I am angry, everyday I feel my anger increase. I can no anger stand comments, I have no tolerance with those stupid people who chose Iraq to be the proof of how smart they are.
Am I finally like those who never really been there? Is it too bad there back home that anger is normal or is it just that I am far now.
Why am I that angry?
Or is it you America?
Is it those people who are apologizing for what happening in my country? They say they could do nothing. I know they are doing enough harm now to apologize for other people 5-10 years from now saying again they didn't want it to happen. They could do something few years ago.
I was so angry when once a man said that he doesn't care about politics, he doesn't like what his government does but he can't change it so he doesn't care. He, as he said, mind his own business and care of nothing but his family and never go to vote.
I don't know how I found myself attacking the poor ordinary American man "you don't have the right to do so" I needed to speak those people just don't understand "if the president of the US decide and effect no more than this country then you can care about your own family and care about taxes and domestic affairs when you vote. When you choose your president you decide the future of millions of people living in countries you know nothing about. You decide for the future of my family and the peace of my people. You either here in America decide not be involved in other countries issues or take responsibility. “

I am reading old articles written by a man described by Americans as one of the smartest writers. When I read I remember my first impression when I saw how Americans were ruling Iraq after war, those people are either so stupid or so bad.

Are you evil America? I can't see your face anymore. Like this city I visited, it was confusing sometimes to know which a woman is and which is a man.
I am confused America!

Too Big For My Feet

America, I walk on many things to survive the moment.. you can feel things between my feet and your skin crashed. I am trying to walk on my heart but it is too big for my feet.

...............

Today in a kind of review to Iraq recent history I attended, I felt that I am alone , I am not like others. After all I lived, I don't belong.
I am in intensive attempt to be normal.. telling myself it is not true! the pain is not true.. the shock of losing my country personally in new way is not true... in 2007 there will be none I know live there in the part of the world that I call home. I repeated few times that home is people not only a land.. and now I don't know what home will mean when the people are away of the land in nowhere and everywhere? Where is home ? with which of them? in what part ? Does it still home Iraq? but now what is Iraq? Piece of land with no face, with no soul. Big cemetery.

... …….

America!!! I am too tired to explain. My heart is tired and my feet are bleeding. My head is looking for a meaning of home. My soul is looking at the sky like a child trying to see behind which cloud the house of god is hidden, looking for a hole in the sky to see heaven through.

Heaven!!! All Iraq in heaven now!! I know where home is. I am a visitor on earth, with one entry Visa.

Small Pieces Fly Easier to Heaven

"What is wrong? You look tired"
I have to answer that everyday for the last week!
What could be wrong?? Please!!! What could be right?
Nothing wrong .. He is three and a half years old , his body was torn ... but you know what ,America! He is in heaven !! We have no troubles at all. We are happy sending all those we love to heaven.. it is hard to send them one piece, that is why we are sending them to heaven faster !! America you know small pieces fly to heaven easier!!!
That is only one part of the news I got last week!! If you don't mind, I don't like to share the rest with you, it breaks my heart in a way that I can’t understand myself... for a week now I am recovering from a feeling reminds me with that when Baghdad was just falling in fire..
For the last week I felt again the bitterness of losing Baghdad... I have no home , again ... I have no walls that carry my memories dreams and the face I know of my city. It's like the end of April I am losing everything again, people and walls... I am losing all the pictures that fading in my memory.... I am losing Home ...

But I have no reason to be sad... It is all so simple! Nice logic, people go to heaven and walls are just walls we can build them later , we can make new memories.

America, it hurts so bad! He is only three! I know the mother - my best friend for long time. We chose his name, her son, before even she met her husband. I was there when they met I wrote her poem after poem , she was like "How do you know all that? How you predict things?". I was there when she was in love "I don't know what to do?" my usual answer was "nothing just forget about him"... I thought she deserve the best man in the world. He was great guy , he can find his way in hell.
The last time we talked :
"I am so depressed. I am in the house all the time, you know how it is, we can't go anywhere. My son and daughter are locked in all the day, they look at the door as if it the door of paradise. i never let them go to the street. My son's best dream is to be let free out. We are so scared that something happen to them. The best and only place they go is my family's house , at least we let them play in the garden. I can't take it any more. I am so tired, you can't believe how much I changed ...."
"What happened to you? Are you finally the housewife? I can't believe you. No , you need me to come over to refresh your memory. You forget how you were like? "
"I really forget how my normal life was? how I was ? I am a different person now. But I still have to tell you the bad news. I am pregnant again! I can't take it .. I can't take care of three children in this country .. I will be crazy. I don't know what to do? I know it is bad to say that , it is a gift from God and we can't refuse it. It is what God wants, but I am so tired."
We end the phone call on a promise that I will visit her soon within few days but I didn't. I couldn’t! They were crazy and busy days. I left !

Three are too much for you, dear. That's why they sent you rocket to your house. Now you will have only two! I am sorry my friend I wasn't there. Where to find you again? You left too!

We all leave with wounded hearts. How we love that country that we needed all this pain to leave.

Just for a while

We are here for a while ..

We have no time for pain.. no time for anger , for sadness .. past!

I am here now .. now ! but not later . I can do now ! but can do nothing later .. later when I die, I will have a plenty of time to look back but then I won't .. we are much wiser when we die.