Meditating on Iraq's Current Situation: Seeking Solution

During an interview that lasted for an our on  State TV last Saturday, al-Maliki "questioned if those who want him to go would prefer Iraq to return to the days of dictatorship"!

"Those who call for regime change are limited in number; they are weak and voices of discord,"

I want to enlighten Mr. Prime President and tell him that the numbers of people who participated in the protest were over a million in Iraq, just in case his men were not able to count, as I doubt they CAN count.

"What do they want?" he asked, giving a list of references to deposed ruler Saddam Hussein: "Do they want the return of a dictatorship? Or the Revolutionary Command Council? Or a regime that marginalizes groups?"

So! Now those who ask for change and for a better life, better public services are asking for the return of dictatorship? The only best next option is to go back to dictatorship? Is that the new Iraq?


Iraqi's voices were shouting all over Iraq for the last months:

"Liar, liar, Noori al-Maliki is a liar"

Since there is an increase in exported crude oil (as announced by Laibi) then there must be higher returns. By selling 2,202 barrel per day, Iraq achieved the highest sales return in January that reached 6,082 Billion US Dollars.

"It is said that oil constitutes 94 percent of the country's revenues."

Then if we do the math we arrive to the fact that Iraq is one of the richest countries but its citizens living a poor life.


Agriculture Situation in Iraq
Iraq is know as "Mesopotamia". What does that mean? It simply means "the land between the two rivers". Why is this term important for Iraq? Because the entire point of establishing the ancient civilizations in Iraq was to be built next to the river. Water is important for establishing these civilizations because it's an essential element for agriculture, as well as transportation.

After the war, there are many researches proves that the water has been polluted but that's not the one and only reason for the deterioration of agriculture in Iraq. It seems there's a big plan to restrict the development of agriculture and preventing it to provide Iraq with the needed products let alone the income generated by agriculture.

Farmers abandon their farms because of restrictions set by the Ministry of Agriculture. Knowing these restrictions make it impossible for small and medium farms to survive. Here's a link that would explain this part of the problem as stated by farmers.

Yet, we face a bigger problem than high expenses of irrigation, marketing and polluted lands and water. It's a serious issue that was imposed by Paul Bremer, the American governor assigned after the invasion of Iraq. Jermey Smith, a researcher, director and editor of the Ecologist wrote a lengthy research about agriculture in Iraq. I couldn't find the original text but here's a link to what I found regarding his research.

In this paper, it is clear that the invasion created a new market for the seeds mentions in the research which makes it impossible for farmers to use the previous year harvest. That in itself a serious issue for farmers who has been used to following their own techniques of farming.

Industrial Situation in Iraq
For decades, Iraq was able to provide certain products for the entire population of Iraq and even export the surplus. The industrial sector in Iraq had the basic needed structure to flourish. Oil? check. Water? check. Labor? check. Along with many other elements that set the floor for an industrial country.


Unfortunately, the invasion has its impact on this sector too. From the very first day of the invasion, smart missiles found their way to target Iraq's infrastructure and any essential facility to destroy Iraq. Reading the article Deterioration of the industry after the occupation and its impact on the working class and the Iraqi society made it even harder for me to put my hands on a simple solution for Iraq's situation.


Lack of Security
Lack of security continues to enchain Iraqi people. This led to a huge number of Iraqis to decide leaving the country, their neighborhoods or their cities; as well as taking the option of staying home. The government, hand in hand with the collation forces, created the fake image that because of the lack of security the government cannot achieve it's goals and that the troops are needed to "keep the safety of Iraqis".


The security issue is real, but not for the right reasons. It is unsafe because of the militias of certain political parties or figures. In addition to the thugs who came up to the surface serving certain agendas. As well as the empowerment of ill-willed and criminals as a result of the absent of a true security forces.


Unemployment
All the previous issues led to high percentage of unemployment among Iraq citizens. But the most essential point regarding this problem was created by the first decision made by the collation authority regarding resolving the army and the security forces and many of ministries and other governmental institutions. This act laid off hundreds of thousands or maybe millions of workers. Another reason was the new economic orientation of the occupation and the governments created under its umbrella which aims to privatize all governmental economic projects.


Results for my research about unemployment in Iraq were varying between 40-60 %. Whatever the right percentage is, it is such a shame to have qualified experts or new graduates unemployed and suffering from poverty.


Shortage of Experts and Qualified People
It was ether because of the security issue or the threats by thugs and the new empowered criminals, Experts and people of great brains opt to leave the country in order to keep their families safe. Since it's hard to find qualified people who deserve to be in the right place when needed at the right time, we are left in the hands of a gang that call itself "A government".


For all the facts above, this year, i'm not writing a poem. i'm not writing a post lamenting what we lost because of this invasion and what we suffer under occupation. Instead, I want to face the reality and think of ways to improve the current situation.


I've always believed that if we want to make a difference then we should start with ourselves. But regarding the issue of Iraq it's not just me. I do need to collaborate with other as one person cannot do all the needed changes. What makes it hard for me to make a change is a bigger picture. Every day this picture get even clearer. America did not invade Iraq aiming the disposition of Saddam or "the so-called WMD" only. It is crystal clear that their true purpose was to control oil as well as create a new marketplace to support their investments.


Therefore, we need everybody to take a serious action from their own place to end this occupation and find the right people to take our beloved Iraq to the safety shore.


That's all for now...
But we should follow words by action.

Still Tuned to Iraq News

I wonder why would the demonstration in north of Iraq is in the news and the rest of Iraq is not. Could it be that Maliki's hands could not reach to the reporters in the North?


Here's the piece of news about Sulaimanaiya

Photo: AFP – Iraqi Kurdish anti-government protesters march in the Iraqi Kurdish city of Sulaimaniyah on February

Update on Iraq's Situation These Days

Since the news are raining over our head from alBaghdadia news channel with no other source of news in Arabic OR English, I decided to spread their words and do further broadcasting to reach more people.

Two Fridays came and people in the Arab world and the rest of the world are clueless regarding what's going on. I don't know what happened to the media regarding Iraq. I know what's going on in Libya is something big but that doesn't mean to overlook other parts of the world.

Therefore, here's the link of al Baghdadia translated by Google Translate. And here are some of the headings:

• Thousands of demonstrators protest in Tahrir Square, and the security forces usedforce to disperse them
• Thousands demonstrate in Basra and Dhi Qar, and  security forces attacking protesters by beating journalists in Basra
• The people of Hillah, Diwaniyah, Maysan and Muthanna are demonstrating to demand the dismissal of the government and improve services
• The people of Diyala, Anbar, Dujail, Salah al-Din and Ninewa demonstrating against corruption and unemployment

You can find more on albaghdadia facebook page and the youtube chanel for videos uploaded by them and by eyewitnesses.

That's all for now but...
There's much going on in Iraq

Rising Iraq

For over couple of weeks I felt jealousy and had a kind of enviness in my heart. Seeing Tunis trying to change reality and the deposition of their president made me dream. Watching news about Egypt and how the people believed in themselves and their faith that they can obtain their demand gave me faith.

My jealousy and envy, my dreams and faith were all clashing within me, raising the question "why?". Jealousy ruled my head for seeing people revolting against corrupted government. Envious fed my thought, wanting what we couldn't get. By that I mean honor. I dreamed of revolting Iraq to get rid of the occupation, to get rid of the corrupted government. The result of Tunis and Egypt made me have faith in the people again.

When I received forwarded emails written by Youth of February 25th, Iraqi writers and intellectuals, and Shalash the Iraqi's articles, alone with many messages, groups and links circulated via different social networks. All these letters encouraging the Iraqi people to rise and stand for their rights. All these letters set a list of demands. They all confirmed that they do not belong to a certain political party a group, or a region  and that they are all united by being Iraqis.

With unspoken anticipation I waited for Friday 25th.

The previous night I kept dreaming, thinking and praying for the best. I never imagined the government would do a single thing to harm the protesters. The worst scenario in my head was that the government would play the role of the democratic pro-people state and that they would support them but at the same time they would assign certain militias or gangster to harm the protesters or implement explosions here and there.

The Maliki did announce that it's not safe for protesters to go out in the streets since there will be "intruders" who would sabotage or harm the protesters.

But to my surprise, Friday came. the Army and security forces were hitting the protesters, using tear gas, in addition to live bullets, while helicopters flying low above people's head!

Is that all the democracy we have?!

I'm still full of hope that there will be more demonstration tomorrow and I'll pray for a better Iraq, a safer Iraq, and most definitely a peaceful Iraq.

An Iraqi Student

I have to break the silence and ask you to stand for a moment to greet this Iraqi Student.

It's not just that he is working to support his family but he is still a student and investing his time in doing his homework. A salute to such insisting dedication.

P.S.1 I found this photo in a friend's profile on Facebook and I don't know if she took it or a licensed photographer.

P.S.2 I will come back for a real post shortly.
That's all for now
God bless Iraq

Distributing Smiles :)

After the date was set, tickets were booked, luggage packed, 28th October, my dad, sister and I were in the airport to fly to Amman. My mother came from Amman only the night before and the plan was to join us the next week. But, mom's relative decided to join us and fly to Amman too.

Carrying too many big bags we were transferred to Overweight luggage. It was 7:30 in the morning and our flight was 9:30. The lines were still empty. We were the only family there weighing our bags the woman on the counter said "you may leave to Amman but I'm afraid the old lady won't" We all had huge exclamation marks over our heads. She added "Her passport is an S"

Attawie's thoughts were "It's ok, no problem. She can go back but I'm leaving to Amman, to KJ, to do the civil marriage papers. Calm down, smile and breathe."

The old lady worried and nagging how to go back to the city with all her bags. My dad went to check the airport security if the regulation is right and she can't fly with; my sister busy with weighing bags and putting tags. And Attawie was distributing smiles here and there pretending there was nothing.

Almost an hour passed and we're still in our same place. The airlines were waiting for a Jordanian authority to wake up and report to work, due to time difference, so they can give us instructions. We waited and waited and people start to come and go. The airline employees' shift changed and the new people are asking what the story was. We explained to them and one of them was really worried and stayed with us giving us consolation. She said "I'm new here, almost a month. But let me tell you that I was given instruction not to let any Iraq or Palestinian on the plane without calling my immediate boss. It's a rule". Attawie was standing distributing smiling here and there and announcing "I'm the bride".

Almost two hours passed and we're still in our same place. My sister called the Jordanian embassy to check if an Iraqi with an S passport can enter Jordan. They said there is such regulation but since the passenger is a resident in another country then there's no problem until 2010. We informed the airlines and the airport security and they said they have to check with the embassy themselves. And Attawie still distributing smiles here and there assuring herself "it's nothing!"

An airport security officer was really nice; he said the airplane won't fly without you even if we had to delay the take off. He stayed with us for so long and kept assuring us there won't be a problem.

For me, I was ready to fly that day no matter what. It's a matter of booking a taxi and finding someone to carry the relative's bags and send her to the city. As simple as that, a piece of cake. But she was so worried about leaving and not leaving, mumbling and nagging and talking to herself. I really like the lady but "hello! I'm the bride" it should be all about me, me and me!

Dingdong "Alnidaa alakheer lirokab al ri7la raqam XYZ almotawajiha ila Amman"

- Atta: what was that?
- Sana: didn't notice.

Dingdong "This is the final call for flight no. XYZ heading to Amman"

Attawie starts distributing smiles extensively. Next moment another Airport officer comes and stands next to our luggage on the scale. He starts saying words in his walky-talky I couldn't understand and whispers to the airlines employee. The bags went in and disappeared from our sights. We're given a paper to pay for the overweight luggage. The Airport Officer No.1 accompanies us to the accountancy. We're sent in the lift to gate…" na'a no gate, an airport officer will receive you there".

My sister with her knee injury, dad with his right thigh torn muscle, the old lady with her back pain, were all meters behind me when the lift door was open. I found the officer and quickened my pace. The officer said something in his walky-talky and in seconds a female officer received me. She said where are the rest? I pointed at them. Now I was runny with her and followed by the rest. She said something in the walky-talky and added "I've got the bride. The four people are following". Another female officer received us and she was accompanied by a guy dressed in formal airport uniform. He took me to the airline's desk to take the boarding cards. Passports were with my sister. He said follow me and they will get the cards. We headed two floors down on feet and there UAE officers were waiting for us and a big bus took us to the airplane. The hostess received us with smiles pointing towards ours seats; the only empty seats on the plane. Felt all eyes were staring at me. I was thinking "OMG they must be saying this is why we're ten minutes behind schedule" So I had to continue distributing smiles!

Within seconds we were flying in the sky heading to Amman. And Attawie still distributing smiles but instead of praying silently in her heart she was now thanking God everything went great.

That's all for now
But there will be more later :)

Restless Freedom

Watching this video over and over even after a couple of days, not knowing why exactly, shedding tears of mixed feelings, all I know is that people need to know about this all over the world.

It's the video of the press conference that was held after Muntadhar al Zaidi, the Iraqi journalist who threw a shoe at Bush, was released.

This part of his speech keeps occurring to my mind as if I've seen it with my own eyes.

"...a feeling of shame haunted me like an ugly name because I was powerless.And as soon as I finished my professional duties in reporting the daily tragedies of the Iraqis, and while I washed away the remains of the debris of the ruined Iraqi houses, or the traces of the blood of victims that stained my clothes, I would clench my teeth and make a pledge to our victims, a pledge of vengeance.The opportunity came, and I took it.I took it out of loyalty to every drop of innocent blood that has been shed through the occupation or because of it, every scream of a bereaved mother, every moan of an orphan, the sorrow of a rape victim, the teardrop of an orphan. I say to those who reproach me: Do you know how many broken homes that shoe that I threw had entered because of the occupation? How many times it had trodden over the blood of innocent victims? And how many times it had entered homes in which free Iraqi women and their sanctity had been violated? Maybe that shoe was the appropriate response when all values were violated. When I threw the shoe in the face of the criminal, Bush, I wanted to express my rejection of his lies, his occupation of my country, my rejection of his killing my people. My rejection of his plundering the wealth of my country, and destroying its infrastructure. And casting out its sons into a diaspora.After six years of humiliation, of indignity, of killing and violations of sanctity, and desecration of houses of worship, the killer comes, boasting, bragging about victory and democracy.

He came to say goodbye to his victims and wanted flowers in response. Put simply, that was my flower to the occupier..."

You can read The full speech of Muntader after he was released on Khalid's Blog.

I'm glad he decided to share and glad about his goals.
Can't find a better video or links. I'm sort of in hurry.

That's all for now
I wish we can find peace

Trab Attawie

So, life goes on and we move on...

My sister and I were chatting the other day and she asked for the recipe of the banana sweet. She said A is keeping one of our dishes and refuses to give it back unless he's compensated with another dish of this sweet.

It seems before I leave Jordan, four years back, (FOUR YEARS ALREADY!!!) anyways, it seems that I made him this sort of sweets and he's been asking my sister to make it or at least teach him how to make it. I told my sister everything step by step and then told her to put extra biscuits until it feels like there's sand in the mouth and that's how the name was given to this sort of sweets. Trab al milook (king's sand).

The recipe requires the sort of white cream that was an Iraqi brand, Qish6at Canoon. another ingredient was Biscuit Mary, also found in Iraq only. I told her what to do and what substitutes that can she use in Amman. Then I was inspired to prepare it myself.

Lazy me, didn't want to change and go downstairs for shopping, I put ready made cream whip. Since it was to creamy I add Cerelac to thicken it. Yep guilty, I still eat Cerelac :D

And since I'm too lazy to write right now, enjoy these photos to know the rest.

White cream


Crushed biscuits

Mashed bananas

Mix

Add Walnuts and almond

Spread on a dish and cover it with crushed biscuits


Enjoy




It was very delicious but still not the trab al milook I used to prepare in Iraq. It was sort of trab al milook minus Biscuit Mary and Qish6at kanoon.. that's how I came up with the name Trab Attawie

That's all for now
and taste Trab al Milook in Baghdad

On a Day Like Today

After years of living in the sense of lost, after years of trying to maintain the needed hope, after saying all the prayers needed to preserve wisdom, after all years of avoiding insanity, after all the years of being in denial and convincing myself of Holding on, I come to realize that years would never stop passing by and this day of the year would no doubt come and I have to face it.

I'm away from beloved Baghdad. I'm away from family and friends. I'm away from the land I was born on; away of the soil I took my first step on, away from the house I was raised in, away from my neighbors, I'm away … but… not mind and soul.
War, chaos, loss of uncountable people and things, unemployment, corrupted system, mysteries, sadness, chain of mischief, lost dreams, burnt houses, smell of death, widows, orphans, tears, sad stories, cruel memories… That's all what we are left with?

Promises are never kept. Lies are said for free. History is writing while people are looking away. I don't want to write another poem. It's just the same haunting story. Politicians are merely but a joke. People are treated like sheep. An observer is watching like a jerk.

I don't want to sound devastated. I don't want to show despair. I just want to tell you the picture is not pleasant, And it needs a lot of repair. What's going on right now is unfair.

I lost my focus and lost my words. I'm not sure if it makes sense. But that's all you're going to get on a Day Like Today. Life is frozen… the clock is broken. The prayers you're saying are not answered today.

It may read like a poem. It may seem like an epitaph but it's nothing but a stirring thought; A rage that has been calm; Waiting for the right time: to take an action and answer the call of the Palm.

Oh Iraq, returning has become the dream that makes my day. Your memory is the sweetness in this bitter life. You are the sound of laughter, background music for this noisy life, the kiss on a mother's forehead, the grip of an infant fist.

That's all for now.

You name it.

Oh… it feels like ages since I posted something.

The flu, cold or whatever you call it, started as a runny funny nose. On day two it accompanied fever. Day three developed a throat pain for the early morning, stuffy nose during the afternoon and then was crowned with a silly cough. Next day that silly cough became seriously not silly with a snoring sound at the end.

Doesn't it seem boring?

Today I decided to take my sister to the sport equipment shop in the neighborhood. I told her it's across the main road, to encourage her. After her nap she woke up unlike herself, I mean not grumpy. Or maybe she would be like that only when I keep bugging her to wake up.

Put my jacket and took my purse and we closed the door behind.

When walking, I tend to have big fast steps. No turning left or right unless I'm crossing roads. Straight-faced me with no smiles and my head lifted a bit high but keeping my eyes where I'm stepping. My eyes move quickly to scan ahead, ground, slightly left and right. I forgot all about my sister's problem with her legs and kept telling her "hurry up".

This made me feel guilty most of the way back and forth when it hit me she just can't.

Before we reach the store, I told her pretend we're not interested and that we were just looking. I wear this indifferent face whenever I'm buying a thing. We found what we were searching for. "featherballs" and their rackets. The ones we got, has been giving us hard time due to the cheap price. Checked almost everything in the store and then we got what we wanted and walked home again.

I love this game. I've been playing it since I was second grade, I think. During the war we used to have daily tournaments. This sport was everything to me at certain age. I would play it at school, in the club, in our garden, at the neighbors' garden, in the street and everywhere I could carry it. I felt I was superior! My serve was really remarkable and I used to give names to each one, just like the baseball animation we used to watch.

My sister and I were grade 3 again!

We played for more than an hour, in our room! Each one of us was sitting on her bed, with her racket in her hand and we played Reeesha ("feather" as we call it in Arabic.)

Tomorrow morning, with other three families, along with my weird cough, we're going to Za3beel Park. I think it's the hugest park in the UAE. Kids will be there and three birthdays in this month will be celebrated with a big chocolate cake tomorrow.

That's all for now… and

I'll update you who'll win the tournament.

Meeting "Who Was There"

Chapter No.6
Meeting "Who Was There"

I've always been reading Iraqi blogs but never had the time to be a regular reader to most of them. On the other hand, my mother reads several blogs she likes and used to read almost daily. And that's how I heard about "I Was There". As my mother used to e-mail some bloggers she found out that she knew "I was there" and that he was her cousin's friend. While "the gang"=anarki, the kid, Morbido, Bassam, 24 and I in addition to my sister and cousin, were sitting in a café we were joined by Mr. I Was There and his family. At that moment I remembered what my mom told me about him and I told him about it and that this girl, my cousin, is his friend's daughter. He recalled a lot of memories about him and my relative and kept telling us stories.
He introduced us to his wife and three daughters. Just like any other Iraqi family, they were struggling to find a place to stay, schools for the girls and most important jobs.

After about a couple of hours talking and getting to know one another better and better, time flied really fast and I had to leave and go home.

Amman Diary - the Picnic

Chapter No5
The Park Meeting/picnic

After several meetings in malls and cafés, we decided that we need a better place to meet where there's no hookah smoke nor loud songs with the crowd. So, Bassam and I had the same idea about going to a park and enjoy our time there.

We set the time and place and went to the park. Iraqis going to a park means a picnic. Iraqi picnic means rice, dolma and many other kinds of food to be taken in pots. I suggested that we don't need this kind of picnic and let's have only chips, cake and drinks. The guys were supposed to take care of the drinks, which ended up as Anarki's job. And the girls, Morbido, Micho and I to take care of the other things.

Morbido and I thought of taking a mat to sit on, but both of us were just visitors in this country and we didn't have any.

Unfortunately the kid couldn't make it to the picnic. He caught cold.

Micho, Morbido and their mom, my sister, I and our grandma met at the gat with Anarki and his Friend (after a year I discovered that he was a blogger too!). 24 Steps to Liberty and Bassam were there too. Zeyad came and said that Nabil was not coming, but knowing my guitar was there he joined us later.

After we all were there, except for the Kid, we found a park couch for Grandma and Morbido’s mom and placed our simple snacks. We couldn’t find good grass to sit on. So we sat on the sidewalk. Anarki started the concert by tuning the guitar. I can’t remember if it was him or Nabil who cut the first string but Nabil had the honor of cutting the second. I can’t remember well because it was funny and hilarious. Such a thing would usually drives me crazy but I didn’t mind it for the fun we had worth not only 2 guitar strings but the whole guitar.

We sang and laughed till it was dark. And that’s when we decided to visit the Royal Cars Exhibit. It wasn’t easy to find it. We had to go up the hill and it was getting darker and darker and we took a shortcut through the Chinese Garden, which by the way was Rocky place rather than a garden. We took some photos there, or should I say crazy photos. And then we arrived.

The gate was locked. We could see the mini cars through the glass but nobody was there. We waited for a while but it was obvious there was no one there. There was an antique airplane outside. We took some photos there too. The feet photo and some more. And after hitting the road we found a big sign with the phrase “The Museum us closed on Tuesday”! The guys took the chance for another round of photos. That was the final laugh for the evening.

That's all for now
And... Wait for more

Amman's Diary - Iraqi Bloggers' Meeting

Chapter No.4
Meeting Bassam, 24 steps to liberty & Nabil

A couple of days passed after the previous meeting and Anarki smsed me telling me that Bassam (Treasure of Baghdad) & 24 Steps to Liberty had e-mailed us all and want to join the gang. I didn't know about the e-mail myself because as usual I didn't have access to the internet. On the other hand Morbido has received it and updated me about it later.

This time the guys picked a well-known café for our meeting. Morbido, Micho, my sister and I arrived there behind schedule about 20 minutes. But the Kid and Zeyad were not there yet! I've met Anarki, the Kid, Hala and Zeyad earlier but I never worried about the person I'm meeting. I was exited to do so. But this time when we got out of the taxi I told Morbido "I’m wondering if this meeting is going to be successful as the previous ones." She said that she had no worries. Then I remembered she met Treasure earlier. At that moment, Anarki was waiting for us at the gate of the café and he led us to our table. After introducing themselves and ourselves everything thing went fine. As we started to talk I felt relieved. I didn't know why but I guess it's just because their blogs are more like political than personal and I've always hated to talk politics.

Both guys' faces looked familiar and it was easy to talk to them. We talked about everything that came to our minds just like old friends catching up.

Later, a nice shy guy joined us. He was introduced as Zeyad's brother. He was so calm and mute but later I discovered that he was Nabil! He was the youngest of us all. What a polite nice guy.

Being away from Iraq I gained the skill of recognizing Iraqi faces among hundreds. Each time I met one of the gang I say "I know this guy. I must have seen him before" it was true for Anarki and the kid because both of them had showed us a photo of themselves. But for 24 steps to Liberty? I don't know. I felt I knew him.
My sister was sitting next to him and told him that she must have seen him before. She felt the same. He said that his entire family looks the same. After knowing his family name, we knew why we find familiar. His aunt, a famous Iraqi painter, was and still my grandmother's friend and she used to teach Arts in our school. We met her several times and last year we went to her latest exhibition in Amman.

In our next meeting I took my cousin who came from the States. We were talking about names and I mentioned her brother's name. Bassam said that his friend's father is the same and he mentioned the friend's name. That moment I said "May he rest in peace" He stand there astonished. His friend was my late cousin!

What a small world!

Amman's Diary - Iraqi Bloggers' Meeting

Chapter No.3
Meeting Hala_S and Zeyad

It was Anarki too; the one who arranged this meeting after Morbido has arrived. The Mall was also the place of this event, same reason: everybody knows how to get there. Hala escaped from Beirut after the war started and she came to Amman and decided to meet the Iraqi Bloggers. This plan worked good for all of us and we had fun meeting the whole gang.
Anarki and Hala were waiting for Morbido and me at the gate. Morbido's mom and sister, Micho, were there too. But Micho was too shy to stick with the gang. The Kid joined us later.

Talking about Iraq and our memories and how we spent war times and how we handled living there after the war. We talked about our plans for the future.
Hala was leaving the next day so there wasn't any chance to meet her again at least on this visit. I hope I can meet her again someday. She is such a nice lady, well educated and open-minded.

About an hour passed and Zeyad didn't show up. He called the guys and apologized about being late and that he was busy meeting some people too. When he joined us and said hi to all of us he turned to me and said how are you "Named a Name"? I told him I don't know whom he was talking about. He was mistaken me with someone else. He read about me from Morbido's blog. But ironically I've heard about that "Named Name" story. It seems that we run in the same circles.

Asking a guy on the next table to take some photos for us marked the ending of that meeting.
…………………………………………………..
Next day Morbido, Anarki, the kid and I, and we had fun going to the movies. We saw Pirates of the Caribbean. It was one of the best disgusting movies I've ever seen and the most hilarious. WE HAD FUN.

Resuming Amman's Diary - Iraqi Bloggers' Meeting

A couple of friends of mine asked me to publish Amman diary Summer 2007 – The Iraqi Bloggers' Meetings – which I wrote in Amman when I had no access to internet and wasn't able to post. Another friend asked me recently to post them too. What I remember, I was seeking the approval of each person included in the diary. Everyone said go ahead and they had no problem. Anarki was the first and I did publish about our meeting.

But I can't remember if the Kid replied or refused (I think he said no). But since more than a year later he posted something related to meeting me and other female Iraqi bloggers without seeking permission, I think he wouldn't mind it. It's old news anyways. Plus I'm not sure if the Kid exists anymore. He's Abbas Hawazin now.
-----------------------------------------------------

Chapter No. 2
Meeting The Kid

After The Kid reached Amman he contacted Anarki who called me just a couple of days after our first meeting and we arranged another meeting. My sister was of course there to escort me.

We agreed that the mall was easy to reach by all of us. I got a call from the Kid as I reached the mall that they were waiting for me. I saw Anarki accompanied with two other guys. One of them was supposed to be the Kid. I looked at both of them trying to figure out which one of them is The Guy. One of them was busy with his mobile, both were in black though one of the shirts was with a band or a game logo, can't remember. Anyway, this guy pointed at the other telling me "He's the Kid" then the Kid introduced himself and pointed at the friend and said "He came by mistake" with a laugh.

I introduced them to my sister and then we started to search for a café or someplace to sit but the mall was hectic and crowded.

The first thing I noticed about The Kid was his eyes. They looked mysterious. After few minutes I could tell his eyes revealed curiosity. Then I remembered the tragic story how he lost his four friends in an explosion and I thought it was that sadness.

After roaming the mall, none of us was hungry or needed a drink, but my sister and the kid stopped for an ice cream cup. Nothing interesting happened except for the regular chitchat between friends as if we knew one another long time ago. After a couple of hours, it was getting late; my sister and I decided to go home. The guys agreed and wanted to leave too. As we approached the exit gate, the kid and his friend disappeared. Anarki was still with us. We waited for a while but they never showed up. So we left without saying goodbye. That wasn't a nice impression for a first meeting but I guess it was easy to forgive the Kid.

Anarki, my sister and I decided to cross the main road to find a taxi. We ended up walking for about 20 minutes or more talking, until we took a taxi. I enjoyed the walk for the pleasant personality of Anarki. He's never boring and always had something to say. Not just something, but something smart or funny or maybe both.

Oh this is supposed to be about the Kid. So, his father and my mother used to run in the same circles – career wise- and we talked a bit about it but we never really tried to sort it out. He wasn't the same blogger nor the person I knew online. Maybe because his friend was there or could it be the presence of Anarki, but it was awkward meeting him. Even though the same evening we did chat afterwards and talked about it and he told me he felt the same. We agreed that we were better online friends rather than face-to-face.
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Hopefully, I'll resume posting the rest of the diary.

That's all for now

Another Stolen Memory

A photo of one of the high schools I went to

Checking news here and there, following different reporter to see how the story being told by someone else; I came across photos about Iraq. Viewing one photo after another and something caught my sight. "I know these words" I thought. I must have read it at least a thousand times. Very familiar in shape… and its meaning! It meaning was the high school I went to for three years. The school I used to hate. I considered it a black page in my history. But recalling my memory, for moments, a very short time, I look at things differently right now.

It said:

"Nidhal high school for girls"

"Founded on the year 1972"

That's the high school I hated. But what I hate now is the hideous pale colour of its paint. The silly posters hanged on the wall. The two silly signs saying: "Welcome Security Forces and Army" and "Carrying arms are forbidden inside election center".
The place seems dirty, stained walls and trash on the floor. I can't believe this is the same school I went to. The schoolmistress used to be a very firm lady. She used to reign with an iron fist and this is not an exaggeration. Mrs. Hinoof was one of the best principles in Baghdad. We never really liked her but she knew how to run the school. Throwing trash on the floor was never an option back then.


Schools are closed, no work and time is wasted. I heard the electricity is on 24/7 as a bribe for people to vote! It's all silly and a mockery play.

That's all for now

Let's wait and see.

Attawie, How Did a Tank Get onto your Roof!?

It's funny how we've been talking all these years and I've never mentioned this story! It all came back to me after viewing our home from Google Earth and seeing the black metal thing lay on our roof. And it hit me. Attawie, how did a tank get onto your roof!? David asked.

The war started 2003 and we were supposed to stay at home. But after two days we could take it no more and my mother's aunt called and said you'd better come now or else. Believe me her "or else" was threatening more than any bomb flying in the air. The old lady cares about us, plus, we were freaking out because the two previous nights were horrible. It felt the house was falling apart over our heads. Since our home is located close to what they call it green zoon nowadays, it was wise to leave. For certain reasons we kept going home every day.

On April 8th, we saw Iraqi tanks almost in every street in our neighborhood. An Iraqi solder asked us why we were there. He said: "Leave the area. Leave Baghdad if you can. It's a battlefield". Next time we went to our home was on April 17th. To tell you the truth, I can't remember the streets. Maybe it's bliss not to. I was praying all the way home to arrive safely and find our home still standing there.

The house was a mess. Two of our doors were broken. The neighbor blocked one of them with a chair and pushed the car to close the second. Cats and rats were playing hide and seek. Dust was everywhere. Broken glasses of shattered windows were everywhere. But thank God my room was as clean and tidy as I left it. No broken windows and the door to my garden was standing as strong as it could be. My room was the place where we slept during the later weeks.

When we were checking room after room we were shocked when we opened my sister's room. We couldn't see the carpet; instead, we saw a carpet of dust. But the weird dust looked like gray concrete dust. When we looked at the ceiling we could see the sky. That's when my father remembered his last visit to the house. When the bombing started and a strange bang shook the house and the noise was so loud that he could hardly get what was going on and had to leave in a hurry.

After a couple of hours we heard from neighbors that the other half of the tank was six houses away from us. It was an Iraqi tank that was bombed even though it was standing there in the street all abandoned.

That's how a tank ended up onto our roof
And that's all for now.

It Was A Tree

It was a tree. A tree like any tree you may see in the street. You may see huge melancholy on its branches, as if it was carrying burden of the hundred years it ages. But its trunk proudly stands against stormy winds. A lot have been said about the tree in many different religions and cultures. Many myths and stories surrounds this tree and it's blesses.

It is said that its fruit was the first fruit Adam, peace be upon him, tasted on earth. The same tree has many names in many different cultures. It is known as Christ thorn Jujube, Siddir (or Annab in Arabic) which is recommended by Islamic Medicine. Traditional medicine also has a lot to say about it. Its leaves are used to cast off magic spells, the scientific name of Nabk Trees.

This tree is full of benefits whether its trunk, leaves, flowers or the fruit and its seeds. It is cultivated southern Asia, between Syria, northern India, and southern and central China, and possibly also southeastern Europe though more likely introduced there.

It is believed to alleviate stress, throat soothing, gum problems, ease the stomach, keep bugs and other insects out of the house and free of infestation. Even the honey that bees make from its flowers nectar is very expensive because of its benefits.
A funny thing, the sweet smell is said to make teenagers fall in love, and as a result, in the Himalaya and Karakoram regions, men take a stem of sweet-smelling jujube flowers with them or put it on their hats to attract women.

Although it's an evergreen tree but it tends to pour down its leaves during every single day of the year. How do you I know that? Because I used to sweep its leaves for fun in my grandparents' garage and at times in our garden.

Seeing the round yellowish round fruits on the ground made me forget all about my paranoia and hygiene issues and pick as much as I could carry in my both hands. Washing them with water and drying them with tissue papers there was nothing left but to taste them.

One bite and I literally could say I was charmed. Charmed with this holly fruit taste and what it represented to me. I was no longer there. All I could sense was the sweet honey taste on my tongue and the thousands thoughts, sensations and memories I never knew they existed.

Standing on a three step ladder, with grandma next to me, holding on to me to make sure I was standing safely, on the roof where the dove were roaming above our heads, and birds singing in their nests. Grandma holding on to me while I carry the bucket where we keep the fruits we collect.

Reaching my hand to a nabk fruit that a bird took a tiny bite, reluctant to pick it, I recalled grandma's answer when I used to tell her "but the bird took a bite!" she would reply "Yes dear, it took a small bite to taste it to tell us this one is sweet, take it. It's yummy so the bird left it to us"

During the 1991 war, when we were at my grandparents' house, we spent most of the clear shinny morning playing badminton. Whenever our feather shuttle flies high it get stuck in the branches of the two gigantic trees. We usually attempt to start throwing things, anything you name it, until we call our grandpa to help us. Thousands of tournaments took place under the shades of those two beloved trees.
At school, wars were raged between classes. You see the boys throwing stones and girls run to collect. Each student would throw his best shot and each girl runs as fast as she could to collect the magic fruit and split "fifty-lifty" as we used to call breakeven shares. At times Stones would pour down on student passing by to be sent to ER, nevertheless, that doesn't mean to stop hunting for this sinfully delicious fruit.

After 1992, we moved to a new home where there was one of those trees. It never stopped to amaze us how many pairs of shoes we found when it was time for trimming the tree. We would laugh and make stories about how those people had to leave barefooted.

A handful of fruits and I felt that was it. They are the same fruit. They are the same colour. They have the same smell But in Iraq this fruit was taster and therefore, I had no more.

Here is the second pick :) I know its not as seductive as cherries nor as funny as strawberries but I wouldn't trade them for any of those.



That's all for now

Wonderful Week With My Cousins

The following is a recap of my uncle's family visit (19-23/11/2008)


As much as last week was tiring, exhausting, hectic and crazy, IT WAS FUN.

My uncle's family came to visit us from Germany. His three sweet little kids are amazing. This was the fourth time for us to meet. The two boys and the sweet little girl are smart, loveable as well as naughty. Even though there are a lot of hotels in our area but my mother insisted on receiving them at our home. She wouldn't want to miss them not for an hour during their short visit.

The kids are taller and cuter now. You can't but love them. They are fluent in German and doing pretty well on understand Arabic but could do better on the speaking part (I have to admit they speak Arabic better than some Arab kids in UAE). At times they reply in German and think everybody can understand them. Thanks God I studied German for a while and I could catch a word and understand what they want but my poor sister kept telling them "in Arabic please" and they think she's joking!

Since it is very cold in German, and my uncle being a busy doctor, they hardly enjoy outdoors activities. Therefore, their visit to UAE is such a good time to do so. My mother assigned me to set a schedule for each day. I had to do phone calls and do some bookings here and there. Had to check websites and search for the best places to visit. And I was able to set, somehow, a good program for the week.

We arranged our schedule so the family would take a week off from work/schools to enjoy the reunion.

We drove to Um al-Quwain shortly after they arrived and checked in Flamingo resort to spend the night. The activities there included crab hunting, but unfortunately it was so cold and the tide was high that we couldn't catch as many crabs as we wanted. Actually only three guys from the group were able to do so. But we've seen how it goes. I stayed in the boat and enjoyed watching everything with my three little cousins.


Flamingo beach Resort

That was followed by a buffet and special crab dish for those who participated in the crab hunting. I tried it and it tasted like fish with a sweet taste.


Me introducing you to the first Crab I ever taste :)

We enjoyed jumping and playing on the green grass at night. My sister and I were 5 years old again. The place was empty and we almost had the entire resort for ourselves.

Next day was the beach day. It was too cold to swim. I enjoyed walking on the sand, collecting some shells while they tried some fishing and playing with sands. We checked out and went for sightseeing in Um al-Quwain. Then we passed by a nice place and we had to check what was it. It turned out to be another resort and we went in and took some photos. We thought we'll try boating but it was lunch break for workers there and we didn't want to waste time. Therefore, we drove back to Sharjah and enjoyed water jet skiing.

It was their first time to try jet skiing. Mine was the second. But after the long drive home and my sister being so not cool by trying some tricks gave me motion sickness and I forced her to take me ashore.

The third day was dedicated for some beach fun in Dubai but I didn't join the party. The next day was dedicated for Abu Dhabi. We went sightseeing here and there including Emirates Palace Hotel where there's an exhibition of new projects in Abu Dhabi. It was fun and I was one step away from camel back riding but everybody was scared and my uncle said that he tried it in KSA and it wasn't fun at all. Plus we were close to a donkey and a horse and the smell was horrible so I had to withdraw and leave that for another adventure.

On the schedule I dedicated a day for Sharjah's museums but things somehow that day got very messed up and we had the chance to visit only Sharjah Aquarium. Oh and we went horseback riding. This time my horse was Penny, a nice, cute white horse. This time I was very confident that I made Penny run all by myself.


Sharjah Aquarium

Two nights in a raw I told them the bedtime story "the rabbit and the turtle" (al arnab wa al sul7afat) which they two little ones pronounce it funnily as (al alnab wal sulfa7at). After jet skiing I helped their mom blowing their hair with the hairdryer. Such a hard job to keep a child to sit let alone stand still!

In Iraq, the child is not raised by his parents only; it's the job of the entire community. The extended family plays an important role, neighbors too. I believe my three little cousins have a thirst for interacting with family. I cannot help thinking of all those Iraqi kids being raised in different countries all around the world and what they have to miss about Iraq, the Iraq that we knew and spent our childhood. They enjoyed their visit and when I tease them and say "I'll keep you here and let your mom and dad go back to Germany" a certain look of eagerness shows on their faces but then they would say "No, you come and stay with us". And oh my how I wish to go and visit them in the near future.

That's all for now about me and my cousins!

What's the News?

Is it possible that next press conference for Bush would be behind shoe-proof glass or they would just force journalists to take off their shoes!

Why am I thinking of that? Because of this. In case you still can't believe it! Here it is.

That's all for now but i'm sure there's gonna be much much more somewhere else.