is officially spring in Baghdad. We often joke that in Iraq there is no spring. Once spent a cold and windy with a couple of months of humidity and dust storms, and hence a dry heat, blazing, scorching, call it summer. This is the month, however, in which wind on rugs and carpets and we get the summer clothes.
Unpacking the summer clothes and remove the clothes for the cold is a process that leads us in our home almost a week. When you end the transition from winter clothes to summer clothes, the house ends up smelling of mothballs and unused hand soap, which sometimes used to store clothes or white clothes to protect them from insects.
Apart from the usual "spring cleaning", etc.. recent weeks have been volatile, even by the standards Iraqis. A'adhamiya area in Baghdad has seen some heavy fighting, especially during the last week. There is almost always some action in A'adhmiya, but a week ago reached the point where there was open confrontation in the streets between the militias of the Ministry of Interior and the guerrillas. As a result we have with an elderly relative. His son, second cousin of my mother, left her in our home with these words: "Your heart can not cope with all this turmoil. Several bullets shattered the windows of the second floor and we would have a heart attack. "
Apparently, before this latest outbreak of violence in A'adhmiya, there was a "secret pact" between the guerrillas and the Iraqi police that no attacks would be launched against Iraqi security forces in the area while the special commands Iraqis (the militias of the Ministry of Interior) not attack houses of the village as they had been doing over the past year.
So we spent the days with Bibi Z. ("Bibi" is an Iraqi word meaning "granny"). We do not know exactly how old he is, but we estimate that eighty enough. Is an aspect that seems fragile-a soft, almost transparent, a small face framed by tufts of white hair. His dark eyes are still very alive and have a look of permanent fascination because her brows are so white that just stand out from your skin.
Having the distinction of being the oldest member of an Iraqi family has its privileges. Bibi Z. has been installed as temporary reigning queen of the house - moving from room to room with grace and authority of royalty. In the first ten minutes of arriving at our house, took my room I was soon relegated to the uncomfortable sofa in the living room. He spends the hours supervising everything from homework to housework, and inevitably advising on the best way to store winter clothes, roll up the carpets, and study algebra. Although no longer cooks, sometimes deigns to sample our food and always finds that it lacks a spoonful of this or a pinch of that.
is always fascinating to sit with someone of the older Iraqi generation. They inspire mixed feelings - have seen so much tragedy and triumph to live in a country like Iraq, which leaves a @ simultaneously excited by the possibilities and frustrated with what appears to be a life instability.
The earliest memories of Bibi Z. are clearly remembers the monarchy and all subsequent governments and leaders; even know gossip about some of those now returning. "That young guy who wants to be king, Sharif Ali Al says," I think it is the result of a romance between a princess and an Egyptian palace servant. " Makes confidence as we see him in a brief report of one of the Iraqi channels.
Around 10 this morning is cut the power and it was too early for the generator. He commented that it would be possible to know what had happened overnight unless we listened the radio. Bibi Z. told us about the first television she saw in 1957. One of his neighbors had become richer as a television and her husband went to work, the ladies of the neighborhood gathered at home to watch an hour of TV. "We put our abbaye when the presenter spoke," she laughed. "It took Umm Adil two weeks to convince us that the presenter could not see us when we saw him."
"And were so bad politicians?" I asked him later when we were looking to make a statement Jaffari.
"History repeats itself ... Politicians are opportunists ... But they do not bother me, but the Iraqis were ill were better. " Went on to explain that through all the drama and change that combine to form the colorful mosaic of the Iraqi political scene over the past century, one thing remained constant, the Iraqi request loyalty toward each other.
He talked about the student revolts during the years of the monarchy. "When Iraq signed the Portsmouth Treaty, the students revolted and organized demonstrations against the king were chased throughout Baghdad. My father was a police officer and yet when they chased the students in our district, I inadvertently got at home and help them escape by jumping from rooftop to rooftop. Iraqis were Iraqis and we had our differences, but we took care of each other ... And women and children were sacred - no one dared touch the women and children in the house: "
The only unforgivable sin was to have loyalty to the old foreign occupier. "Today, the only ones who can guarantee their survival are those loyal to an occupier - and even they are safe." He sighed heavily when I say this, gently tapping with a rosary in her thin hands.
"For the first time in many years, I fear death." Nobody said last night in particular, as we sat after dinner, sipping tea. All objected, wishing him long life, saying he has many years ahead. Good wishes. We shook his head as if we understood him - as if we could not possibly understand. "Everyone dies eventually and I have had a longer life than most Iraqis-today children and young people die. I only fear death because I was born under a foreign occupation ... I never dreamed that he would die in another. "
- posted by river @ 11:54 PM
Unpacking the summer clothes and remove the clothes for the cold is a process that leads us in our home almost a week. When you end the transition from winter clothes to summer clothes, the house ends up smelling of mothballs and unused hand soap, which sometimes used to store clothes or white clothes to protect them from insects.
Apart from the usual "spring cleaning", etc.. recent weeks have been volatile, even by the standards Iraqis. A'adhamiya area in Baghdad has seen some heavy fighting, especially during the last week. There is almost always some action in A'adhmiya, but a week ago reached the point where there was open confrontation in the streets between the militias of the Ministry of Interior and the guerrillas. As a result we have with an elderly relative. His son, second cousin of my mother, left her in our home with these words: "Your heart can not cope with all this turmoil. Several bullets shattered the windows of the second floor and we would have a heart attack. "
Apparently, before this latest outbreak of violence in A'adhmiya, there was a "secret pact" between the guerrillas and the Iraqi police that no attacks would be launched against Iraqi security forces in the area while the special commands Iraqis (the militias of the Ministry of Interior) not attack houses of the village as they had been doing over the past year.
So we spent the days with Bibi Z. ("Bibi" is an Iraqi word meaning "granny"). We do not know exactly how old he is, but we estimate that eighty enough. Is an aspect that seems fragile-a soft, almost transparent, a small face framed by tufts of white hair. His dark eyes are still very alive and have a look of permanent fascination because her brows are so white that just stand out from your skin.
Having the distinction of being the oldest member of an Iraqi family has its privileges. Bibi Z. has been installed as temporary reigning queen of the house - moving from room to room with grace and authority of royalty. In the first ten minutes of arriving at our house, took my room I was soon relegated to the uncomfortable sofa in the living room. He spends the hours supervising everything from homework to housework, and inevitably advising on the best way to store winter clothes, roll up the carpets, and study algebra. Although no longer cooks, sometimes deigns to sample our food and always finds that it lacks a spoonful of this or a pinch of that.
is always fascinating to sit with someone of the older Iraqi generation. They inspire mixed feelings - have seen so much tragedy and triumph to live in a country like Iraq, which leaves a @ simultaneously excited by the possibilities and frustrated with what appears to be a life instability.
The earliest memories of Bibi Z. are clearly remembers the monarchy and all subsequent governments and leaders; even know gossip about some of those now returning. "That young guy who wants to be king, Sharif Ali Al says," I think it is the result of a romance between a princess and an Egyptian palace servant. " Makes confidence as we see him in a brief report of one of the Iraqi channels.
Around 10 this morning is cut the power and it was too early for the generator. He commented that it would be possible to know what had happened overnight unless we listened the radio. Bibi Z. told us about the first television she saw in 1957. One of his neighbors had become richer as a television and her husband went to work, the ladies of the neighborhood gathered at home to watch an hour of TV. "We put our abbaye when the presenter spoke," she laughed. "It took Umm Adil two weeks to convince us that the presenter could not see us when we saw him."
"And were so bad politicians?" I asked him later when we were looking to make a statement Jaffari.
"History repeats itself ... Politicians are opportunists ... But they do not bother me, but the Iraqis were ill were better. " Went on to explain that through all the drama and change that combine to form the colorful mosaic of the Iraqi political scene over the past century, one thing remained constant, the Iraqi request loyalty toward each other.
He talked about the student revolts during the years of the monarchy. "When Iraq signed the Portsmouth Treaty, the students revolted and organized demonstrations against the king were chased throughout Baghdad. My father was a police officer and yet when they chased the students in our district, I inadvertently got at home and help them escape by jumping from rooftop to rooftop. Iraqis were Iraqis and we had our differences, but we took care of each other ... And women and children were sacred - no one dared touch the women and children in the house: "
The only unforgivable sin was to have loyalty to the old foreign occupier. "Today, the only ones who can guarantee their survival are those loyal to an occupier - and even they are safe." He sighed heavily when I say this, gently tapping with a rosary in her thin hands.
"For the first time in many years, I fear death." Nobody said last night in particular, as we sat after dinner, sipping tea. All objected, wishing him long life, saying he has many years ahead. Good wishes. We shook his head as if we understood him - as if we could not possibly understand. "Everyone dies eventually and I have had a longer life than most Iraqis-today children and young people die. I only fear death because I was born under a foreign occupation ... I never dreamed that he would die in another. "
- posted by river @ 11:54 PM
