[lit-ideas] I'm so glad our govt has been able to spread democracy and freedom
- From: JimKandJulieB@xxxxxxx
- To: lit-ideas@xxxxxxxxxxxxx
- Date: Fri, 11 Aug 2006 04:57:51 EDT
_Baghdad Burning_ (http://riverbendblog.blogspot.com/)
... I'll meet you 'round the bend my friend, where hearts can heal and souls
can mend...
Saturday, August 05, 2006
Summer of Goodbyes...
Residents of Baghdad are systematically being pushed out of the city. Some
families are waking up to find a Klashnikov bullet and a letter in an envelope
with the words âLeave your area or else.â The culprits behind these
attacks
and threats are Sadrâs followers- Mahdi Army. Itâs general knowledge,
although no one dares say it out loud. In the last month weâve had two
different
families staying with us in our house, after having to leave their
neighborhoods due to death threats and attacks. Itâs not just Sunnis- itâs
Shia, Arabs,
Kurds- most of the middle-class areas are being targeted by militias.
Other areas are being overrun by armed Islamists. The Americans have
absolutely no control in these areas. Or maybe they simply donât want to
control the
areas because when thereâs a clash between Sadrâs militia and another
militia in a residential neighborhood, they surround the area and watch things
happen.
Since the beginning of July, the men in our area have been patrolling the
streets. Some of them patrol the rooftops and others sit quietly by the
homemade road blocks we have on the major roads leading into the area. You
cannot in
any way rely on Americans or the government. You can only hope your family
and friends will remain alive- not safe, not secure- just alive. Thatâs good
enough.
For me, June marked the first month I donât dare leave the house without a
hijab, or headscarf. I donât wear a hijab usually, but itâs no longer
possible to drive around Baghdad without one. Itâs just not a good idea.
(Take note
that when I say âdriveâ I actually mean âsit in the back seat of the
carâ-
I havenât driven for the longest time.) Going around bare-headed in a car or
in the street also puts the family members with you in danger. You risk
hearing something you donât want to hear and then the father or the brother
or
cousin or uncle canât just sit by and let it happen. I havenât driven for
the
longest time. If youâre a female, you risk being attacked.
I look at my older clothes- the jeans and t-shirts and colorful skirts- and
itâs like Iâm studying a wardrobe from another country, another lifetime.
There was a time, a couple of years ago, when you could more or less wear what
you wanted if you werenât going to a public place. If you were going to a
friends or relatives house, you could wear trousers and a shirt, or jeans,
something you wouldnât ordinarily wear. We donât do that anymore because
thereâs
always that risk of getting stopped in the car and checked by one militia or
another.
There are no laws that say we have to wear a hijab (yet), but there are the
men in head-to-toe black and the turbans, the extremists and fanatics who
were liberated by the occupation, and at some point, you tire of the defiance.
You no longer want to be seen. I feel like the black or white scarf I fling
haphazardly on my head as I walk out the door makes me invisible to a certain
degree- itâs easier to blend in with the masses shrouded in black. If
youâre
a female, you donât want the attention- you donât want it from Iraqi
police,
you donât want it from the black-clad militia man, you donât want it from
the American soldier. You donât want to be noticed or seen.
I have nothing against the hijab, of course, as long as it is being worn by
choice. Many of my relatives and friends wear a headscarf. Most of them began
wearing it after the war. It started out as a way to avoid trouble and undue
attention, and now they just keep it on because it makes no sense to take it
off. What is happening to the country?
I realized how common it had become only in mid-July when M., a childhood
friend, came to say goodbye before leaving the country. She walked into the
house, complaining of the heat and the roads, her brother following closely
behind. It took me to the end of the visit for the peculiarity of the
situation
to hit me. She was getting ready to leave before the sun set, and she picked
up the beige headscarf folded neatly by her side. As she told me about one of
her neighbors being shot, she opened up the scarf with a flourish, set it on
her head like a pro, and pinned it snuggly under her chin with the precision
of a seasoned hijab-wearer. All this without a mirror- like she had done it a
hundred times overâ Which would be fine, except that M. is Christian.
If M. can wear one quietly- so can I.
Iâve said goodbye this last month to more people than I can count. Some of
the âgoodbyesâ were hurried and furtive- the sort you say at night to the
neighbor who got a death threat and is leaving at the break of dawn, quietly.
Some of the âgoodbyesâ were emotional and long-drawn, to the relatives and
friends who can no longer bear to live in a country coming apart at the seams.
Many of the âgoodbyesâ were said stoically- almost casually- with a fake
smile plastered on the face and the words, âSee you soonââ Only to walk
out
the door and want to collapse with the burden of parting with yet another
loved
one.
During times like these I remember a speech Bush made in 2003: One of the
big achievements he claimed was the return of jubilant âexiledâ Iraqis to
their country after the fall of Saddam. Iâd like to see some numbers about
the
Iraqis currently outside of the country you are occupyingâ Not to mention
internally displaced Iraqis abandoning their homes and cities.
I sometimes wonder if weâll ever know just how many hundreds of thousands of
Iraqis left the country this bleak summer. I wonder how many of them will
actually return. Where will they go? What will they do with themselves? Is it
time to follow? Is it time to wash our hands of the country and try to find a
stable life somewhere else?
Other related posts:
