Landing at the Iraqi Blogodrome
A lot has happened in Iraq since my last post and it is with regret that I cannot keep these updates more frequent but as long as there is life in the Iraqi blogs I will labour on.
I, the terrorist...
I, the terrorist,
watched the bread break off my brother’s teeth
He had never tasted blood-drenched bread...
I, the terrorist held my breath,
as the bricks from my kitchen ceiling
hit my forehead…
But I could still stand…
I, the terrorist,
took the hole-filled road to get water
for my suckling infant.
I lost my fingers
on the way,
to a precision sniper…
I, the terrorist,
dug-up some water
with what was left of my stubs,
and tried
to nurse my wailing one,
as he lay in the arms
of the still-warm
body of his departed mother…
I, the terrorist, hated
that my newborn had to taste
blood-stained water;
I hated that
he now had no milk
the scarlet stuff slowly surfacing on his lips…
Then, I the terrorist,
realized
that he,
like his mother,
like my brother
and every other terrorist
who had sat for a meal
at that fractured kitchen table
had stopped feeding too…
Inspired by a survivor of the Gaza massacre, sitting in what remained of his home with what looked like a fingerless bleeding hand...
written by ZZ
I, the terrorist,
watched the bread break off my brother’s teeth
He had never tasted blood-drenched bread...
I, the terrorist held my breath,
as the bricks from my kitchen ceiling
hit my forehead…
But I could still stand…
I, the terrorist,
took the hole-filled road to get water
for my suckling infant.
I lost my fingers
on the way,
to a precision sniper…
I, the terrorist,
dug-up some water
with what was left of my stubs,
and tried
to nurse my wailing one,
as he lay in the arms
of the still-warm
body of his departed mother…
I, the terrorist, hated
that my newborn had to taste
blood-stained water;
I hated that
he now had no milk
the scarlet stuff slowly surfacing on his lips…
Then, I the terrorist,
realized
that he,
like his mother,
like my brother
and every other terrorist
who had sat for a meal
at that fractured kitchen table
had stopped feeding too…
Inspired by a survivor of the Gaza massacre, sitting in what remained of his home with what looked like a fingerless bleeding hand...
written by ZZ
First Baghdad became peaceful
And no other blogger can give the bittersweet impression of a peaceful capital than Sunshine. Last month, she traveled to Baghdad for a short holiday from the northern city of Mosul. In a long post full of pictures and observations she concludes:
I didn't write about good events for long time, I am so glad I had good news to tell, yesterday I visited my friend, she is studying medicine, I didn't see her for 2 years! I had a great time..
I hope Mosul will be as safe as Baghdad, and I hope next time I visit Baghdad I'll find it as good as the past and even better
But this was not to last
Chikitita returned to Baghdad after a long stay abroad only to experience a new wave of bombings. Why? She writes:
They say I’ve jinxed the place again. Iraqis are too superstitious and once they read this, they will collectively sign a petition to the PM asking him to send me away. Iraq was heaven on earth until my return. All those deadly explosions ripped through the quiet streets of Baghdad because of … well make a wild guess!
On "Objectivity"
By Layla Anwar
Mince your words Woman, turn them around, change their colorings, give them new dimensions, weigh them, objectify them just like they objectify you and them, so they can understand in their objective minds...the intent, extent and depth of their own indifference and destructiveness...
Turn your inner and outer world,
banish the desert storms and the whirlwinds,
dam the rivers
stop the currents
erase the feelings with a rubber, blank them out,
become the zombie of PTSD
appeal to them, so they can pity you.
this is what they want to hear, need to hear...
their flip side is the Savior...
the objective savior
who needs to understand before he saves...
before he saves you, from himself...
Yet at the same time, control yourself, control your feelings and emotions because the objective mind does not accept what drops out from his frame...what is not aligned in with his thoughts...
Laith writes of his feelings when one explosion happens near his home:By Layla Anwar
Mince your words Woman, turn them around, change their colorings, give them new dimensions, weigh them, objectify them just like they objectify you and them, so they can understand in their objective minds...the intent, extent and depth of their own indifference and destructiveness...
Turn your inner and outer world,
banish the desert storms and the whirlwinds,
dam the rivers
stop the currents
erase the feelings with a rubber, blank them out,
become the zombie of PTSD
appeal to them, so they can pity you.
this is what they want to hear, need to hear...
their flip side is the Savior...
the objective savior
who needs to understand before he saves...
before he saves you, from himself...
Yet at the same time, control yourself, control your feelings and emotions because the objective mind does not accept what drops out from his frame...what is not aligned in with his thoughts...
It was about 7 p.m when I started my prayers. few second later, a big bang shook me like a little bird. I'm so familiar with the sound. Its a sound of an explosion but this time its so strong which means it is so close to my family's house and more than that its so close to the mosque where my father, my uncle and all my neighborhood men pray. At that moment, There was nothing longer than my prayers which I wanted to finish it but it was very long. When I finished the prayers and while I was trying to go out, I heard a second explosion. OMG I'm sure many people died. I run quickly and I saw the smoke of the explosions. I started asking and the men in the street told me that two roadside bombs detonated. My neighbor who is an old women said "Laith, go and check for your brother). Sh wanted me to look for her son who is a real brother for me. I was trying to check weather the bomb was inside the mosque or not. Thanks God, its near the mosque. My other neighbor came out of her house crying and yelling "I lost my son, I lost my son" I tried to talk to her but she didn't listen to me and run towards the place of the explosion. Thanks God again, he was simply injured...
It looks that the dream of living in peace in Iraq will not come true at least for the coming few years. The increasing violence during the last few days revealed the truth about the fragile security situation.
While Baghdad Connect speculates that the new wave of bombings are a reaction to the recent elections and the announcement by US President, Barak Obama, of troop withdrawal from Iraq. Baghdad Connect also reports of the latest announcement by Saddam's Vice President, Izzat Al Douri, calling for all the former regime's army officers to accept a government offer to return to their posts, leading them to fear a resurgence of the Baathists. They write:
The green zone soon will no longer exist as such and the American embassy will be the sole symbol of the invasion power in the capital. Everything is moving at a “double cheese whopper” speed of pickles. One interpreter for the invaders is given a gun to protect himself! He told us “the f***ing Americans are throwing in the towel!”...
“The Baathists are coming back” one professor said. “We need to build it up from the core; this is our way of doing business”!!!
Sentences Sentences
With many sentences handed out recently from former Iraqi regime officials, serving presidents to show throwers; Layla Anwar muses on the meaning of a "sentence":
The power of words -- phrases, verdicts and sentences...they take you up and down, they can make you, break you and change your life for ever...
The sentence has become a prison, a guillotine...has become the gallows...le bourreau du 21 eme siecle...
They have become daggers and knives to stab...they have become a charade, a masquerade for a circus...Today, sentences are meaningless...because there is no conscience behind them...
They sentenced him to Life, they sentenced him to Death...they cry out.
Who is the judge and who is the guilty one ? Does it have any meaning today ?
When the judge is the guilty one and the culprit is the innocent...what do sentences mean anymore ?
Lately there has been a lot of serious flirting with sentences...
Al-Bashir, Al-Majid, Aziz....a few names that come to mind...
Who will sentence the real killers...can any court of law answer me ?
Who will sentence those who "beefed and sexed up" the murder of over a million innocent ones ?
Who will sentence those responsible for an unprecedented genocide in the history of "Democracies" ?
Who will sentence the real criminals ?
And finally
We all have trouble with our Internet Service Providers. But Salam Pax's ISP takes the biscuit.
This made me laugh today.. Iraqi tel-com company Kalimat has a poll on it’s front page asking us how we rate interent service in Iraq.
the only options I can chose from are Excellent, Very Good, Good and Fair…! Only options I would consider are Poor, Abysmal, Over-priced and Drives-me-insane.
Labels: Global Voices, Iraq, Iraq blogs
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