neurotic Iraqi wife
October 24, 2007
Bloody Contractors & Double D Boobs...
First thing they ask you in a job interview is: Why do you want this job. Answer: its very challenging. Second thing they ask you is what motivates you? Some people may say success, others may say the cause. Depends on what the job really is. My personal answer back in March 05 was its my country and I would like to help in rebuilding it. Yup that was my answer then. Now, Im not so sure anymore. If they ask me now, why I want this job, my simple answer would be, I don’t. If they ask me what motivates you, my answer would be nothing anymore.
Yup that’s the reality of it. Work here has become so mundane. Theres nothing to look forward to, nothing to add to the list of achievements. Every morning I drag myself out of bed wishing that it’s a Friday so I can sleep in for a few hours. I guess that’s the only thing I look forward to everyday, count how many more days till Friday. Had I been in the red zone, I would be a very easy target. For everything I do, every move I take is the exact replica of the day before. Anyone watching me wouldn’t really have a blast. That’s how boring life has become.
The thought of me leaving has now taken more of my daydreaming time. Its especially dawning on me more these days, after a coworker of mine showed her true colours. I still cannot fathom where do people get their wickedness from. I really don’t. I was happy that WOB left and now there is WB. Yeah I call her the WB, witchy bitch. What she did and continuously is doing is beyond my understanding of team work. I knew there was something about her that I didn’t quite catch the moment I met her 8 months ago. I remember how V, a coworker and a very good friend, asked me what I thought about WB. My reaction was hmm she seems ok, but theres something about her that I cant put my finger on. Words that came to be true. I never doubt my instincts, because with time and experience I realized Im always right about judging a person, especially when it comes to their vibes, be it good or bad.
In all the time that I was working with WB I never thought she was digging a hole for me. NEVER. Yes I did feel at times she would get uncomfortable when people praise my work, but I just ignored it. Come last week, and I found out the bitter truth. She has been talking behind my back to one of the bosses, poisoning his mind with ridiculous accusations and lies. And that boss, is someone I don’t really deal with, nor interact with, so he doesn’t really know about my work, and my work ethics. He listened to WB and believed her cuz she is one of those who likes to kiss asses to show that she is the best. She pretends she is nice, but a few moments later, or in my case months later, she stabs you in the back. You should see how she treats her poor husband. Blasting him infront of everyone. Man, this guy doesnt have a personality to tell her "ENOUGH, SHUT THE HELL UP AND TREAT ME WITH RESPECT!".
How I loathe such people. I loathe them to death. WHY ARE PEOPLE LIKE THAT? What does she gain? Self importance? I seriously doubt that. But thankfully everyone apart from her easily swayed weak boss knows about my work. So I don’t need to prove to anyone anything. Infact, I know, that if I do quit now, many people will get very upset. I say this and don’t get me wrong Im not a snob, but I know the quality of work I do is near perfection. I say near and not Perfect, cuz it aint.
I haven’t really confronted her, I was too much in a shock, but then I realized, to hell with it, I can care less about her and I definitely do not want to be associated with her wickedness. At the end of the day though, I realized yet again, that being an Iraqi has a lot to do with it. They take advantage of you. I have always been respected by everyone, without having to kiss ass. I don’t really need to do that to get anywhere, my work alone, and my attitude speak for themselves. But the more I think about SOME people’s attitude towards me, I have no other explanation but to think that my Iraqiness has a lot to do with it.
Enough said. Motivation is gone, challenge is gone, fun is gone. All I see around me is shallowness. Shallowness, Old age and Double D boobs. Yup I said BOOBS. The plastic fantastic phenomena seems to have migrated to the GZ. Everywhere I look, I see tight tshirts with headlights sticking out (don’t these people freeze?) and Im a woman mind you yet theyre right there in your face. I cant help but stare, how about those pumped up testosterone male species who in some cases haven’t had “natural” pleasure for the past 5 or 6 months? Im sure their fantasies have gone beyond Angelina Jolie. Get them a small lamb, and they will jump its poor bones. A disgusting and disturbing thought, I know. So yeah, I guess the money everyone is making here is being well invested. Self invested that is.
There is someone I know, A US expat who changed her looks completely. Two years ago, she probably was a size 24UK and now she is down to probably a 10UK. YESSSSSSSSSS. I kid you not. She had an operation. A few months back, she went under the knife AGAIN to remove the excess sagginess that her drastic weight loss caused. She got a completely new set of teeth which cost her $50K or so she said. She “enhanced” the look of her boobs. She plumped her lips. She bottoxed her face. And god knows what else. Look at her now, and she is a different human from what she was before. VERY DIFFERENT. I preferred her looks then. I preferred her attitude then. She was far more friendlier, far more genuine. Alot of people who work here and get that insane amount of money just lose it. They go buy insanely expensive cars and houses and after a few months they run out of money, and guess what? I see them working back in the GZ again! Lol.
Its all about the money. You wanna be rich fast and easy? Want easy money without having to move your ass??? Come to “EYERAK”. Education not a must. Experience not necessary. Yeah life is good here. “I don’t care as long as I get my pay cheque every two weeks”. A statement you hear day in day out. Nobody cares. The scariest part? Im beginning to lose that soft spot too. Even the money aint doing it. Sure Im getting much more than Id get anywhere else in the world, and mind you Im probably one of the lowest paid expats around. So imagine how many millionaires exist now because of this place. I heard someone was getting paid $120/hr base. A hundred 20 friggin bucks an hour, thats MORE than THREE times what Im making!!! Multiply that by 50% danger pay, you get extra. That’s $180/hr. Multiply that by 72 hrs (amount of hours we work in a week) That’s $12,960 per week. Multiply that by 52 weeks that’s $673,920/yr. No wander some of the US govt personnel taht work with us hate our guts and call us bloody contractors with a capital C and a spitty S! Yup that’s right. Bloody Contractors and Double D Boobs...
Yup that’s the reality of it. Work here has become so mundane. Theres nothing to look forward to, nothing to add to the list of achievements. Every morning I drag myself out of bed wishing that it’s a Friday so I can sleep in for a few hours. I guess that’s the only thing I look forward to everyday, count how many more days till Friday. Had I been in the red zone, I would be a very easy target. For everything I do, every move I take is the exact replica of the day before. Anyone watching me wouldn’t really have a blast. That’s how boring life has become.
The thought of me leaving has now taken more of my daydreaming time. Its especially dawning on me more these days, after a coworker of mine showed her true colours. I still cannot fathom where do people get their wickedness from. I really don’t. I was happy that WOB left and now there is WB. Yeah I call her the WB, witchy bitch. What she did and continuously is doing is beyond my understanding of team work. I knew there was something about her that I didn’t quite catch the moment I met her 8 months ago. I remember how V, a coworker and a very good friend, asked me what I thought about WB. My reaction was hmm she seems ok, but theres something about her that I cant put my finger on. Words that came to be true. I never doubt my instincts, because with time and experience I realized Im always right about judging a person, especially when it comes to their vibes, be it good or bad.
In all the time that I was working with WB I never thought she was digging a hole for me. NEVER. Yes I did feel at times she would get uncomfortable when people praise my work, but I just ignored it. Come last week, and I found out the bitter truth. She has been talking behind my back to one of the bosses, poisoning his mind with ridiculous accusations and lies. And that boss, is someone I don’t really deal with, nor interact with, so he doesn’t really know about my work, and my work ethics. He listened to WB and believed her cuz she is one of those who likes to kiss asses to show that she is the best. She pretends she is nice, but a few moments later, or in my case months later, she stabs you in the back. You should see how she treats her poor husband. Blasting him infront of everyone. Man, this guy doesnt have a personality to tell her "ENOUGH, SHUT THE HELL UP AND TREAT ME WITH RESPECT!".
How I loathe such people. I loathe them to death. WHY ARE PEOPLE LIKE THAT? What does she gain? Self importance? I seriously doubt that. But thankfully everyone apart from her easily swayed weak boss knows about my work. So I don’t need to prove to anyone anything. Infact, I know, that if I do quit now, many people will get very upset. I say this and don’t get me wrong Im not a snob, but I know the quality of work I do is near perfection. I say near and not Perfect, cuz it aint.
I haven’t really confronted her, I was too much in a shock, but then I realized, to hell with it, I can care less about her and I definitely do not want to be associated with her wickedness. At the end of the day though, I realized yet again, that being an Iraqi has a lot to do with it. They take advantage of you. I have always been respected by everyone, without having to kiss ass. I don’t really need to do that to get anywhere, my work alone, and my attitude speak for themselves. But the more I think about SOME people’s attitude towards me, I have no other explanation but to think that my Iraqiness has a lot to do with it.
Enough said. Motivation is gone, challenge is gone, fun is gone. All I see around me is shallowness. Shallowness, Old age and Double D boobs. Yup I said BOOBS. The plastic fantastic phenomena seems to have migrated to the GZ. Everywhere I look, I see tight tshirts with headlights sticking out (don’t these people freeze?) and Im a woman mind you yet theyre right there in your face. I cant help but stare, how about those pumped up testosterone male species who in some cases haven’t had “natural” pleasure for the past 5 or 6 months? Im sure their fantasies have gone beyond Angelina Jolie. Get them a small lamb, and they will jump its poor bones. A disgusting and disturbing thought, I know. So yeah, I guess the money everyone is making here is being well invested. Self invested that is.
There is someone I know, A US expat who changed her looks completely. Two years ago, she probably was a size 24UK and now she is down to probably a 10UK. YESSSSSSSSSS. I kid you not. She had an operation. A few months back, she went under the knife AGAIN to remove the excess sagginess that her drastic weight loss caused. She got a completely new set of teeth which cost her $50K or so she said. She “enhanced” the look of her boobs. She plumped her lips. She bottoxed her face. And god knows what else. Look at her now, and she is a different human from what she was before. VERY DIFFERENT. I preferred her looks then. I preferred her attitude then. She was far more friendlier, far more genuine. Alot of people who work here and get that insane amount of money just lose it. They go buy insanely expensive cars and houses and after a few months they run out of money, and guess what? I see them working back in the GZ again! Lol.
Its all about the money. You wanna be rich fast and easy? Want easy money without having to move your ass??? Come to “EYERAK”. Education not a must. Experience not necessary. Yeah life is good here. “I don’t care as long as I get my pay cheque every two weeks”. A statement you hear day in day out. Nobody cares. The scariest part? Im beginning to lose that soft spot too. Even the money aint doing it. Sure Im getting much more than Id get anywhere else in the world, and mind you Im probably one of the lowest paid expats around. So imagine how many millionaires exist now because of this place. I heard someone was getting paid $120/hr base. A hundred 20 friggin bucks an hour, thats MORE than THREE times what Im making!!! Multiply that by 50% danger pay, you get extra. That’s $180/hr. Multiply that by 72 hrs (amount of hours we work in a week) That’s $12,960 per week. Multiply that by 52 weeks that’s $673,920/yr. No wander some of the US govt personnel taht work with us hate our guts and call us bloody contractors with a capital C and a spitty S! Yup that’s right. Bloody Contractors and Double D Boobs...
October 19, 2007
Bitter Tiny Iraqi Crumbs
Once and for all, lets leave the bullshit and the empty slogans of "No Kurds, no Arabs, No Shia's No Sunnis, we are all Iraqis" behind and admit one thing. IRAQ with all its factions is NOT UNITED. Lets not fool ourselves nor the world,OK...This Kurdish/turkish issue is soley a Kurdish issue. THEY HAVE TO DEAL WITH IT. Yes, you know why???Because the Kurds never liked us Arabs. NEVER. Im sorry if Im offending anyone, but the truth has to be said. The hatred that the Kurds have against us, is far more than the hatred of this Sunni/Shia dilemma. YES. I dont give a damn shit anymore. Lets not pretend that everyone is so lovey dovey. The Kurds always wanted their independence from the Arabs, ALWAYS.
Go to any Kurdish forum, and see the hatred towards the arabs. Man they tear us apart all the time. They think they are superior to us...Lol, makes me laugh. One day, they want everything, Kirkuk, the NOrth, the Oil, and the next day, they cry for help. I cant stand such double faced people. I have very good friends that are Kurdish, and although we are civil to each other, Ive had alot of arguements about the situation in Iraq. And they say it out loud, we want to be independent, we want our own nation. Well, FINE THEN HAVE YOUR OWN NATION, but Kirkuk stays. What do you say to that?
With the Turkish offensive, which Im totally against, I think the Kurds are better equipped to deal with that themselves. We have our own "internal" problems that we need to solve. For what have THEY done for us? The peshmerga's came to assist supposedly in this security plan because again supposedly they are a neutral force, but infact they caused havoc. Their loyalty was never with Iraq as a nation. NEVER. Their loyalty was always with their own people, the Kurdish people. Im sure IM gonna get nasty comments, but I dont give a damn shit anymore. Someone has to say it. Someone has to say the truth. Im sure there are many who agree with me though.
But I have to admit, putting all that aside, I have alot of respect for the Kurds. Yes I do for the reasons Im about to give. One, they managed to put aside all their differences and unite against the enemy. Something, we Iraqi arabs couldnt even TRY to do. So I raise my hat to them. Second, they know exactly what they want and how to achieve it. Unlike us, everyone is pulling from all directions. The Kurds are smart people, very business like. They have ambitions and they are well on their way to achieve them. As for us, our ambitions are based on religeous needs. One group wants a Mulla type nation, and another group wants a stone age era with strict Islamic laws. Oh and lets not forget the other group who just doesnt want a nation full stop but instead a land turned morgue filled with Iraqi corpses.
The Kurds have their own flags, their own language, their own traditions. They are a completely seperate people than us. I mean can you believe the fact that an Iraqi Arab is NOT ALLOWED to enter their border unless a kurd sponsors him??? Did you know that?Thats why, all those displaced Iraqis who were driven from their homes because of the violence didnt go to the North. Only the ones who had contacts managed but the rest were forced to leave the country and seek shelter in Syria, Jordan etc..How sad is that. How sad, that you cant even seek shelter in your own country!!!
Im gonna leave it at that. I may be biased for Im an Iraqi. A true Iraqi. I have no hidden agenda. I have no need for power. I hope that the Iraqi Arabs will come to their senses once and for all and learn from the Kurdish people. Learn how to Unite. How to Unite and take care of their own people. Again I say, lets not fool ourselves anymore. Iraq has become a divided nation. Maybe, maybe dividing it is the best solution. The best solution for now. I say these words with great pain, but the Good Iraq is long gone. My parents Iraq is no more. What we have now is the leftovers...The leftovers of all these fatal wars and selfish narcistic leaders. Iraq, that once delicious cake on a diamond studded plate which everyone wanted a piece from, is now nothing but crumbs. Bitter Tiny Iraqi Crumbs...
Go to any Kurdish forum, and see the hatred towards the arabs. Man they tear us apart all the time. They think they are superior to us...Lol, makes me laugh. One day, they want everything, Kirkuk, the NOrth, the Oil, and the next day, they cry for help. I cant stand such double faced people. I have very good friends that are Kurdish, and although we are civil to each other, Ive had alot of arguements about the situation in Iraq. And they say it out loud, we want to be independent, we want our own nation. Well, FINE THEN HAVE YOUR OWN NATION, but Kirkuk stays. What do you say to that?
With the Turkish offensive, which Im totally against, I think the Kurds are better equipped to deal with that themselves. We have our own "internal" problems that we need to solve. For what have THEY done for us? The peshmerga's came to assist supposedly in this security plan because again supposedly they are a neutral force, but infact they caused havoc. Their loyalty was never with Iraq as a nation. NEVER. Their loyalty was always with their own people, the Kurdish people. Im sure IM gonna get nasty comments, but I dont give a damn shit anymore. Someone has to say it. Someone has to say the truth. Im sure there are many who agree with me though.
But I have to admit, putting all that aside, I have alot of respect for the Kurds. Yes I do for the reasons Im about to give. One, they managed to put aside all their differences and unite against the enemy. Something, we Iraqi arabs couldnt even TRY to do. So I raise my hat to them. Second, they know exactly what they want and how to achieve it. Unlike us, everyone is pulling from all directions. The Kurds are smart people, very business like. They have ambitions and they are well on their way to achieve them. As for us, our ambitions are based on religeous needs. One group wants a Mulla type nation, and another group wants a stone age era with strict Islamic laws. Oh and lets not forget the other group who just doesnt want a nation full stop but instead a land turned morgue filled with Iraqi corpses.
The Kurds have their own flags, their own language, their own traditions. They are a completely seperate people than us. I mean can you believe the fact that an Iraqi Arab is NOT ALLOWED to enter their border unless a kurd sponsors him??? Did you know that?Thats why, all those displaced Iraqis who were driven from their homes because of the violence didnt go to the North. Only the ones who had contacts managed but the rest were forced to leave the country and seek shelter in Syria, Jordan etc..How sad is that. How sad, that you cant even seek shelter in your own country!!!
Im gonna leave it at that. I may be biased for Im an Iraqi. A true Iraqi. I have no hidden agenda. I have no need for power. I hope that the Iraqi Arabs will come to their senses once and for all and learn from the Kurdish people. Learn how to Unite. How to Unite and take care of their own people. Again I say, lets not fool ourselves anymore. Iraq has become a divided nation. Maybe, maybe dividing it is the best solution. The best solution for now. I say these words with great pain, but the Good Iraq is long gone. My parents Iraq is no more. What we have now is the leftovers...The leftovers of all these fatal wars and selfish narcistic leaders. Iraq, that once delicious cake on a diamond studded plate which everyone wanted a piece from, is now nothing but crumbs. Bitter Tiny Iraqi Crumbs...
October 14, 2007
My Eid Dream...
Its Eid, yaaaaaaaay. I woke up on Friday and decided to hell with work. Its Eid, and Im gonna celebrate it my way. The Iraqi way. I took a shower, slipped on a new pair of jeans, a crisp blue shirt and my new acquired high heels. I took HUBBY’s hand in mine, borrowed a car from one of my coworkers that live in the GZ and drove right past the checkpoints. What a liberating feeling. My heart was pounding with excitement. I havent seen Baghdad, the real Baghdad in such a long time. Families were walking with their children and everyone seemed so cheerful. It was a major shock to my eyes. I had the urge of rubbing it so hard so as to make sure I aint dreaming and what Im seeing is infact real.
Last year, the last day before we thought we were leaving Baghdad for good, W took us to Saysaban, a beautiful restaurant in Jadriyah, a place that you will never believe is infact in a war torn country. Hence we decided it was the perfect place to celebrate Eid in. We parked the car and walked towards the gate. Waiters in white crisp shirts and black vests welcomed us, each with a smile that lit up the whole place. "Eid Mubarak" they said happily."Welcome, please come in, come in" and they ushered us towards a corner table thats set just for two.
It was the perfect table with "real" plates and cutlery. Something I havent seen in over a few months now. The view from where we were sitting was perfect, I couldnt ask for a better view. The place was overwhelmingly full. Full of people. Happy people. Kids running around with their new Eid clothes and shining shoes, laughing and playing in the immaculately maintained garden. Red, white, green and black balloons hanging from every tree branch, making up a beautiful mosaic of our flag, the Iraqi flag. You can hear birds chirping alongside the children's laughter. And if you concentrate hard enough, you would realise that the birds are laughing too. Laughing with those beautiful innocent kids.
A young waiter whose name was Khalid, came by to take our order. I asked for a menu, which he happily provided. It was a one pager covered in a plastic laminate cover. I didnt know what to have. Hummus? Imtabbal? Kubba? Cheese and basil? Lahm ib 3ajeen? Mixed grill (wth no chicken) or rice and white beans sauce. Hmmm. I was seriously confused. So I said "Khalid, Im hungry, very hungry, can I have bits and pieces of everything?". Khalid laughed and so did HUBBY. HUBBY then interrupted and said "No Khalid, no, please dont listen to her, she keeps doing this to me everytime we go out to eat, she orders alot, but only eats like a bird then Im forced to finish the whole thing and look what happened to me" HUBBY pointed at his belly. I giggled, for thats true. My eyes are always more hungry than my tummy. So I said, Ok Khalid, just get us one plate of hummus (mashed chikpeas w/garlic), another of imtabbal (mashed aubergines w/ garlic), definitely fattoush (mixed salad with croutons) and a plate of mixed grill with no chicken. Oh and dont forget the samoon (Iraqi bread). I want piping hot samoon. Khalid walked off with our order probably thinking what a nutso this lady is.
The sweet apple aroma of the hubbly bubbly was lingering all around us, so HUBBY decided to have one too. As for me, I was content with my cigarettes and my sweet Iraqi tea. HUBBY reached out, trying to hold my hand, as he always does when we are out. I pulled it back, hey, we cant do that here. Its not right. Youre my wife he said angrily, I can do whatever I like. No HUBBY, dont embarrass me please. Big mistake. For HUBBY always tries to tease me and so he turned towards me and kissed me right there and then. OMG. I could feel my face turning as red as the balloon over my head. HUBBYYYYYYYYY, I shouted in his ears . God, they probably think Im one of those bad girls. HUBBY laughed, and kissed me again, this time on my forehead.
Khalid and another guy came around carrying a huge tray with our order. I whispered to HUBBY "I hope they didnt see that" HUBBY shrugged his shoulders and said and so what if they did, YOU ARE MY WIFE ". I laughed for I cant beat that, can I now. Everything looked so yummy, especially the samoon and the fattoush. Surprisingly enough, I ate everything on that tray. Everything. HUBBY couldnt believe his eyes. Nor could I. I guess I needed real food. Real Iraqi food.
After having the last piece of samoon I just sat there with a smile that made me look so stupid, happy stupid. For it was just surreal. Surreal to be sitting in a restaurant in the middle of Baghdad in 2007. A young girl in pink polka dots dress and matching shoes was running around and then all of a sudden she stood right next to my chair. She kept staring at me and laughing. I laughed back, made faces at her which made her giggle even more. "Whats your name?" I asked. "Ahlam" she said. "My name is Ahlam (dreams in English)". "Happy Eid Ahlam" I said. "Happy Eid to you too" She laughed in what was the most angelic voice Ive ever heard then she disappeared. Ahlam disappeared and so did my dreams.
They say its good to dream once in awhile. Yes unfortuantely it was all a dream. A Eid Dream...My Eid Dream...
Last year, the last day before we thought we were leaving Baghdad for good, W took us to Saysaban, a beautiful restaurant in Jadriyah, a place that you will never believe is infact in a war torn country. Hence we decided it was the perfect place to celebrate Eid in. We parked the car and walked towards the gate. Waiters in white crisp shirts and black vests welcomed us, each with a smile that lit up the whole place. "Eid Mubarak" they said happily."Welcome, please come in, come in" and they ushered us towards a corner table thats set just for two.
It was the perfect table with "real" plates and cutlery. Something I havent seen in over a few months now. The view from where we were sitting was perfect, I couldnt ask for a better view. The place was overwhelmingly full. Full of people. Happy people. Kids running around with their new Eid clothes and shining shoes, laughing and playing in the immaculately maintained garden. Red, white, green and black balloons hanging from every tree branch, making up a beautiful mosaic of our flag, the Iraqi flag. You can hear birds chirping alongside the children's laughter. And if you concentrate hard enough, you would realise that the birds are laughing too. Laughing with those beautiful innocent kids.
A young waiter whose name was Khalid, came by to take our order. I asked for a menu, which he happily provided. It was a one pager covered in a plastic laminate cover. I didnt know what to have. Hummus? Imtabbal? Kubba? Cheese and basil? Lahm ib 3ajeen? Mixed grill (wth no chicken) or rice and white beans sauce. Hmmm. I was seriously confused. So I said "Khalid, Im hungry, very hungry, can I have bits and pieces of everything?". Khalid laughed and so did HUBBY. HUBBY then interrupted and said "No Khalid, no, please dont listen to her, she keeps doing this to me everytime we go out to eat, she orders alot, but only eats like a bird then Im forced to finish the whole thing and look what happened to me" HUBBY pointed at his belly. I giggled, for thats true. My eyes are always more hungry than my tummy. So I said, Ok Khalid, just get us one plate of hummus (mashed chikpeas w/garlic), another of imtabbal (mashed aubergines w/ garlic), definitely fattoush (mixed salad with croutons) and a plate of mixed grill with no chicken. Oh and dont forget the samoon (Iraqi bread). I want piping hot samoon. Khalid walked off with our order probably thinking what a nutso this lady is.
The sweet apple aroma of the hubbly bubbly was lingering all around us, so HUBBY decided to have one too. As for me, I was content with my cigarettes and my sweet Iraqi tea. HUBBY reached out, trying to hold my hand, as he always does when we are out. I pulled it back, hey, we cant do that here. Its not right. Youre my wife he said angrily, I can do whatever I like. No HUBBY, dont embarrass me please. Big mistake. For HUBBY always tries to tease me and so he turned towards me and kissed me right there and then. OMG. I could feel my face turning as red as the balloon over my head. HUBBYYYYYYYYY, I shouted in his ears . God, they probably think Im one of those bad girls. HUBBY laughed, and kissed me again, this time on my forehead.
Khalid and another guy came around carrying a huge tray with our order. I whispered to HUBBY "I hope they didnt see that" HUBBY shrugged his shoulders and said and so what if they did, YOU ARE MY WIFE ". I laughed for I cant beat that, can I now. Everything looked so yummy, especially the samoon and the fattoush. Surprisingly enough, I ate everything on that tray. Everything. HUBBY couldnt believe his eyes. Nor could I. I guess I needed real food. Real Iraqi food.
After having the last piece of samoon I just sat there with a smile that made me look so stupid, happy stupid. For it was just surreal. Surreal to be sitting in a restaurant in the middle of Baghdad in 2007. A young girl in pink polka dots dress and matching shoes was running around and then all of a sudden she stood right next to my chair. She kept staring at me and laughing. I laughed back, made faces at her which made her giggle even more. "Whats your name?" I asked. "Ahlam" she said. "My name is Ahlam (dreams in English)". "Happy Eid Ahlam" I said. "Happy Eid to you too" She laughed in what was the most angelic voice Ive ever heard then she disappeared. Ahlam disappeared and so did my dreams.
They say its good to dream once in awhile. Yes unfortuantely it was all a dream. A Eid Dream...My Eid Dream...
October 07, 2007
Live Life...
Yesterday, as I was engrossed in one of my reports, I decided to take a break and check for any new news headlines. I jumped off of my seat when I read the headline “Victory for those who risked lives for Britain”. I immediately clicked on the link and wowwwww, the happiness and joy I felt was indescribable. Finally, Finally Britain decided to help those who risked their lives for them. It very much uplifted my mood, since again, my mood seemed to match the hazy sky.
Today, I decided to visit the link again, read comments and see what others thought about the excellent move. A very very bad decision. Reading some of the comments infuriated me and took me down the pits again. Look at some of these comments that sent my blood boiling to such a degree, I wish I coulda slapped the commentators:
A few thousand interpreters plus wives and families, extended families, other relatives coming over later in accordance with British law, spouses imported over the next few generations - so what are we talking, another million muslims in the country by 2050? Is anyone actually calculating the future racial and religious balance in this country? What I'm starting to think about all the liberal extremists who, in pre-war generations did little more than write poetry and cry, but who have been allowed to dominate all spheres of influence in the hysterical anti-fascist climate of post-war Europe, is this: I think, unconsciously, they have some perverse psycho-sexual desire to be dominated, overpowered and - politically and culturally, at least - shafted.
Eugene, Chester , England
And another Bastard:
This i shocking. I was in Iraq. Don't kid yourself that the interpreters are some kind of brave hero risking their lives for democracy and a better Iraq etc. They wanted money and they got it. Many of them were handsomely paid for little work and more than a few were "playing for the other side". We have just opened the gates for more people to sponge from our welfare system
Degsy, aberdeen,
Hence, I decided to answer back on my blog. To all those who oppose the move I tell you:
It should be a PLEASURE for you people to host those who helped and risked their own lives for your soldiers’ well being IN YOUR COUNTRY. Those Iraqis you claim that are after your so called welfare system, should be praised and honoured. Without them, your troops wouldn’t have survived!!! Do you know how many lives were lost because of the help they gave you???Do you know how many children where orphaned and wives widowed???Shame on you. You are nothing but ignorant selfish full of hatred racists. Ughhhh, people like you just make me wanna scream!!!
Those Iraqis you don’t want, are not coming to your country because they woke up one day and decided hey, what the heck I wanna leave everything behind and go to England. Aha yup you are right, they wanna leave their homes, their family, their friends because they just love the weather and the 25 pounds of the so called welfare they will be getting. Oh yessss definitely, that’s exactly what they wanted to do. What a load of bull…
Why is it that Iraqis are viewed worthless??? Why is YOUR BLOOD more important THAN THEIRS??? WHY ARE YOUR LIVES MORE PRECIOUS THAN THEIRS???WHY??? One of the main reasons I liked and enjoyed living in London is the multicultural society and the cosmopolitan atmosphere. I used to think to myself, wowww, look at the freedom of speech everyone has, especially the few times I visited speakers corner on Sundays. I loved London, and although many of the Brits seemed stiff at first, when I got to know them, I made real friends. I know that racism is everywhere, but when it comes to taint my own people, NO, I will not tolerate it. I will never tolerate it. EVER…
I can even bet on it, the minute things become better here, they will come back to their country. You know why???Beacuse they Love Iraq. They always will...Its in our blood, whether we want it or not. Its engraved in our hearts. Whether we want it or not.
I am so appalled I cant even go on writing this post because of the anger Im in right now…Maybe later I will be able to continue…But for now, those people that you don’t want in your country, those people, my people, have every right to breathe. Every right to have hope. And most of all, they have every right to LIVE. Live Life...
Today, I decided to visit the link again, read comments and see what others thought about the excellent move. A very very bad decision. Reading some of the comments infuriated me and took me down the pits again. Look at some of these comments that sent my blood boiling to such a degree, I wish I coulda slapped the commentators:
A few thousand interpreters plus wives and families, extended families, other relatives coming over later in accordance with British law, spouses imported over the next few generations - so what are we talking, another million muslims in the country by 2050? Is anyone actually calculating the future racial and religious balance in this country? What I'm starting to think about all the liberal extremists who, in pre-war generations did little more than write poetry and cry, but who have been allowed to dominate all spheres of influence in the hysterical anti-fascist climate of post-war Europe, is this: I think, unconsciously, they have some perverse psycho-sexual desire to be dominated, overpowered and - politically and culturally, at least - shafted.
Eugene, Chester , England
And another Bastard:
This i shocking. I was in Iraq. Don't kid yourself that the interpreters are some kind of brave hero risking their lives for democracy and a better Iraq etc. They wanted money and they got it. Many of them were handsomely paid for little work and more than a few were "playing for the other side". We have just opened the gates for more people to sponge from our welfare system
Degsy, aberdeen,
Hence, I decided to answer back on my blog. To all those who oppose the move I tell you:
It should be a PLEASURE for you people to host those who helped and risked their own lives for your soldiers’ well being IN YOUR COUNTRY. Those Iraqis you claim that are after your so called welfare system, should be praised and honoured. Without them, your troops wouldn’t have survived!!! Do you know how many lives were lost because of the help they gave you???Do you know how many children where orphaned and wives widowed???Shame on you. You are nothing but ignorant selfish full of hatred racists. Ughhhh, people like you just make me wanna scream!!!
Those Iraqis you don’t want, are not coming to your country because they woke up one day and decided hey, what the heck I wanna leave everything behind and go to England. Aha yup you are right, they wanna leave their homes, their family, their friends because they just love the weather and the 25 pounds of the so called welfare they will be getting. Oh yessss definitely, that’s exactly what they wanted to do. What a load of bull…
Why is it that Iraqis are viewed worthless??? Why is YOUR BLOOD more important THAN THEIRS??? WHY ARE YOUR LIVES MORE PRECIOUS THAN THEIRS???WHY??? One of the main reasons I liked and enjoyed living in London is the multicultural society and the cosmopolitan atmosphere. I used to think to myself, wowww, look at the freedom of speech everyone has, especially the few times I visited speakers corner on Sundays. I loved London, and although many of the Brits seemed stiff at first, when I got to know them, I made real friends. I know that racism is everywhere, but when it comes to taint my own people, NO, I will not tolerate it. I will never tolerate it. EVER…
I can even bet on it, the minute things become better here, they will come back to their country. You know why???Beacuse they Love Iraq. They always will...Its in our blood, whether we want it or not. Its engraved in our hearts. Whether we want it or not.
I am so appalled I cant even go on writing this post because of the anger Im in right now…Maybe later I will be able to continue…But for now, those people that you don’t want in your country, those people, my people, have every right to breathe. Every right to have hope. And most of all, they have every right to LIVE. Live Life...
October 05, 2007
Moody Days and Trainers...
Its a very hazy day today, kinda matches my mood. A very hazy mood. I dont wanna think politics, I dont wanna think work, I dont wanna think death and I definitely dont wanna think Blackwater. I just dont wanna think full stop. I wanna be able to sit outside and think of nothing. Just stare into space and zone out. So if youre after a good post, then look elsewhere, cuz today, Im just gonna ramble.Two more months to go and it will be time for that much awaited vacation. I just wanna be able to close my eyes and open them and find myself in Sydney. Yes, we are going to Australia first visit my family then Australia. HUBBY wasnt very keen at first, but I managed to convince him that its worth checking out.
PP (Pensioner's Paradise) differs alot from my previous employer. Instead of the 3 month work then R&R, its 4 months in and 2 weeks out. I dont know how people manage. By the time of my R&R it would actually be 5 months incountry, without counting the 3 emergency days leave I took to visit my family last month. My roots are growing at such a fast pace its unbelievable. I look like one of those hippies from the 60's, yup flower power era sans the drugs. Hair reaching almost to my waist and my eyebrows, OMG, I dont wanna even go there. And Im definitely not gonna talk about my unmaintained legs. No, I know, I will spare you the details.
Feeling like a woman here is very difficult. My hair is probably the only feminine thing about me (thats what I like to hope). Apart from that, theres nothing else that I can think of which makes me different from any other guy here. Oh apart from ofcourse the nuts and bolts (if you know what I mean) and the facial hair ofcourse. But everything else is just the same, I might as well have been born a man. Jeans and sneakers every single day. Its not only the clothes, but the demeanour as well. You gotta be tough in this environment. Tough and forceful, devoid of any femininity. Yes its a rough environment. As rough as the uneven gravel we walk on everyday.
So having put my obssession of shoes in the backburner for a long time, I decided it was high time to bring it back. Shoes will definitely give me that quick fix. I discovered an amazing website, http://www.shoemall.com/ . AND OMG, my face, my face just lit up. Pages upon pages of every single kind of shoe you can think of. I just kept browsing through them, it probably took me 3 hours to complete looking at the whole website. It was just like Eid for me. Everytime I like someting, Id say, naaaaaah, not for here, definitely not for here. But then, after awhile, I decided what the heck, Im gonna got those high heels. Yes, and I sure did. I got 2 pairs of high heels and one pair of trainers.
One of my cute high heeled shoes :-)
When I received the box, which btw took only 5 days to arrive, I couldnt wait to try my new shoes on. I went to my room, locked the door, and put on those heels and man, did I feel like a woman or what. I truely felt like a little girl doing something naughty and is afraid of being caught. I also realized, that theres no way in hell, I will be wearing them at work. I would look weird, especially when everyone is used to my hippy shabby looks by now. I did venture out of my room wearing them, just for a few seconds though then retracted back in. So unfortunately those heels are going to be for my own eyes only. I wrapped them back in that beautifuly decorated paper they came in and placed them very carefully in my shoe space. Everytime I feel blue and unwomanly, I will sneak into my room, put those heels on and daydream, even if its going to be just for a few minutes. It will atleast take me out of this atmosphere. this robotic, lifeless atmosphere.
Yeah, I warned you, my mood is hazy today. It exactly matches the cloudy sky. I miss my HUBBY and Im missing my family loads. No shoe will ever fill the void Im feeling right now. Especially these days, the beautiful last days of Ramadhan. I miss the family gatherings at Iftar (breaking the fast) and miss watching my sister play backgammon trying to beat my dad, my bro and my bro in law. I miss my nephews and my little cheeky niece, who btw, looks exactly like me when I was her age. I dont even think that my own daughter (if I ever have one) will be that similar. Yeah Im in that phase. Two more months to go and Ill get to see them. See them, and then ofcourse after a few hours, start complaining about their naughtiness and high voices, lol.
My younger sister sends me photos every now and then, and if Im lucky, Ill get a video recording of my niece which makes my day. Its those simple pleasures that we tend to take for granted. Its those simple pleasures, the innocent sound of a child's laughter that I miss most and cant wait to hear again. Something you dont get to see nor hear in this twalled prison of a compound. Yup, two more months to go, and Ill be outta here, outta here prancing in my new acquired heels, be with my HUBBY and my family again. And ofcourse venturing to Australia. Two more months of moody days. Moody days and trainers :-(
PP (Pensioner's Paradise) differs alot from my previous employer. Instead of the 3 month work then R&R, its 4 months in and 2 weeks out. I dont know how people manage. By the time of my R&R it would actually be 5 months incountry, without counting the 3 emergency days leave I took to visit my family last month. My roots are growing at such a fast pace its unbelievable. I look like one of those hippies from the 60's, yup flower power era sans the drugs. Hair reaching almost to my waist and my eyebrows, OMG, I dont wanna even go there. And Im definitely not gonna talk about my unmaintained legs. No, I know, I will spare you the details.
Feeling like a woman here is very difficult. My hair is probably the only feminine thing about me (thats what I like to hope). Apart from that, theres nothing else that I can think of which makes me different from any other guy here. Oh apart from ofcourse the nuts and bolts (if you know what I mean) and the facial hair ofcourse. But everything else is just the same, I might as well have been born a man. Jeans and sneakers every single day. Its not only the clothes, but the demeanour as well. You gotta be tough in this environment. Tough and forceful, devoid of any femininity. Yes its a rough environment. As rough as the uneven gravel we walk on everyday.
So having put my obssession of shoes in the backburner for a long time, I decided it was high time to bring it back. Shoes will definitely give me that quick fix. I discovered an amazing website, http://www.shoemall.com/ . AND OMG, my face, my face just lit up. Pages upon pages of every single kind of shoe you can think of. I just kept browsing through them, it probably took me 3 hours to complete looking at the whole website. It was just like Eid for me. Everytime I like someting, Id say, naaaaaah, not for here, definitely not for here. But then, after awhile, I decided what the heck, Im gonna got those high heels. Yes, and I sure did. I got 2 pairs of high heels and one pair of trainers.
One of my cute high heeled shoes :-)
When I received the box, which btw took only 5 days to arrive, I couldnt wait to try my new shoes on. I went to my room, locked the door, and put on those heels and man, did I feel like a woman or what. I truely felt like a little girl doing something naughty and is afraid of being caught. I also realized, that theres no way in hell, I will be wearing them at work. I would look weird, especially when everyone is used to my hippy shabby looks by now. I did venture out of my room wearing them, just for a few seconds though then retracted back in. So unfortunately those heels are going to be for my own eyes only. I wrapped them back in that beautifuly decorated paper they came in and placed them very carefully in my shoe space. Everytime I feel blue and unwomanly, I will sneak into my room, put those heels on and daydream, even if its going to be just for a few minutes. It will atleast take me out of this atmosphere. this robotic, lifeless atmosphere.
Yeah, I warned you, my mood is hazy today. It exactly matches the cloudy sky. I miss my HUBBY and Im missing my family loads. No shoe will ever fill the void Im feeling right now. Especially these days, the beautiful last days of Ramadhan. I miss the family gatherings at Iftar (breaking the fast) and miss watching my sister play backgammon trying to beat my dad, my bro and my bro in law. I miss my nephews and my little cheeky niece, who btw, looks exactly like me when I was her age. I dont even think that my own daughter (if I ever have one) will be that similar. Yeah Im in that phase. Two more months to go and Ill get to see them. See them, and then ofcourse after a few hours, start complaining about their naughtiness and high voices, lol.
My younger sister sends me photos every now and then, and if Im lucky, Ill get a video recording of my niece which makes my day. Its those simple pleasures that we tend to take for granted. Its those simple pleasures, the innocent sound of a child's laughter that I miss most and cant wait to hear again. Something you dont get to see nor hear in this twalled prison of a compound. Yup, two more months to go, and Ill be outta here, outta here prancing in my new acquired heels, be with my HUBBY and my family again. And ofcourse venturing to Australia. Two more months of moody days. Moody days and trainers :-(
October 02, 2007
Another Decorative Number...
A week ago, Dr A disappeared for almost two days. I got worried sick. He usually calls in to tell me if he is coming to work or not, he also calls me if he knows he will be late to work. But Last week, no calls from Dr A. I tried calling him on the mobile but all I got was that damned automated message of “sorry, the mobile youre calling is either switched off or outside the coverage area, please try again later”. Ughhh….I kept trying but to no avail. The next day I waited abit and still no Dr A. Again his mobile was switched off. By late afternoon, I was ready to go and speak to the security in charge when all of a sudden a yellow faced Dr A appeared.
Where were you I asked frantically, you got us worried. What happened? He shook his head and said believe me you don’t wanna know. My colleague and I looked at each other with the Uhoh look. Cmon we can handle it, tell us. Apparantely, as Dr A was ready to leave his neighbourhood on his way to work, as he reached the corner of his street, he passed by two dead bodies. One of an old man and another a boy of 5 or 6 years of age. Both shot in the head, and their faces, or maybe I should say what remained of their faces consisted of fleshy pulp barely hanging from the muscles of their necks. Their blood was just everywhere. Dr A, although used to these daily horror scenes in his neighbourhood turned back and decided to stay at home.
He said “when I saw the body of the child I couldn’t help it, I cried. I cried and I started to curse everyone, every single Iraqi, from the useless government to the citizen for allowing such heinous crimes to take place.” “And above all, you know whats worse Neurotica?” I shook my head, for I couldn’t imagine anything worse than a child being murdered to the extent where you cant even recognize his innocent facial features. Dr A continued, “Whats worse, is that I just walked off, I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t. That’s the worst part. I just turned around, and walked away”. “I went back home, grabbed my 9 months old son, and hugged him so tight. I didn’t want to let go”.
And that’s when Dr A decided its time to leave. Although he was one of the first people that actually acquired the visa, he had decided to stay a few more months before going to the States. But after that incident, Dr A said no more. He couldn’t handle this country anymore. He just couldn’t. And most of all, he definitely will not subject his new young family to such a lifeless barbaric atmosphere. An atmosphere filled with the stench of death. An atmosphere where only ghosts of the dead roam aimlessly in the dark haunted alleyways, looking for their loved ones, warning them of what is yet to come. Yes, an atmosphere tainted with blood, innocent people’s blood.
I ask you, So what kind of crime did that 5 or 6 year old innocent boy commit? TELL ME WHAT? What did this boy do to deserve being murdered in that barbaric way? Was his only crime that he was in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or maybe he bared a name that his killers didn’t favour? Ha? What did this boy that made his criminal animalistic killers beat his face into a pulp and then shoot him in the head? Can you answer me? Do you even care? Or has this boy, like the many hundreds of thousands of children become a mere statistic to the hundreds of studies being carried about to prove one of two points. Either “We are winning the war” or “We are losing the War”, and whatever in between doesn’t really matter simply because its just another number.
Yup, its just another number, another statistic that will be used to justify the end or is it the means??? Deaths have fallen by 50% they say. I wonder, I wonder if that old man and young boy were included in that statistic. Hmmm, or maybe it doesn’t really matter. Why should it? Deaths have fallen by 50%, so why does it matter. Whats a body here and there? Whats another mother mourning her dead child??? Nothing. Its just another number, Another Decorative Number…
Where were you I asked frantically, you got us worried. What happened? He shook his head and said believe me you don’t wanna know. My colleague and I looked at each other with the Uhoh look. Cmon we can handle it, tell us. Apparantely, as Dr A was ready to leave his neighbourhood on his way to work, as he reached the corner of his street, he passed by two dead bodies. One of an old man and another a boy of 5 or 6 years of age. Both shot in the head, and their faces, or maybe I should say what remained of their faces consisted of fleshy pulp barely hanging from the muscles of their necks. Their blood was just everywhere. Dr A, although used to these daily horror scenes in his neighbourhood turned back and decided to stay at home.
He said “when I saw the body of the child I couldn’t help it, I cried. I cried and I started to curse everyone, every single Iraqi, from the useless government to the citizen for allowing such heinous crimes to take place.” “And above all, you know whats worse Neurotica?” I shook my head, for I couldn’t imagine anything worse than a child being murdered to the extent where you cant even recognize his innocent facial features. Dr A continued, “Whats worse, is that I just walked off, I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t. That’s the worst part. I just turned around, and walked away”. “I went back home, grabbed my 9 months old son, and hugged him so tight. I didn’t want to let go”.
And that’s when Dr A decided its time to leave. Although he was one of the first people that actually acquired the visa, he had decided to stay a few more months before going to the States. But after that incident, Dr A said no more. He couldn’t handle this country anymore. He just couldn’t. And most of all, he definitely will not subject his new young family to such a lifeless barbaric atmosphere. An atmosphere filled with the stench of death. An atmosphere where only ghosts of the dead roam aimlessly in the dark haunted alleyways, looking for their loved ones, warning them of what is yet to come. Yes, an atmosphere tainted with blood, innocent people’s blood.
I ask you, So what kind of crime did that 5 or 6 year old innocent boy commit? TELL ME WHAT? What did this boy do to deserve being murdered in that barbaric way? Was his only crime that he was in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or maybe he bared a name that his killers didn’t favour? Ha? What did this boy that made his criminal animalistic killers beat his face into a pulp and then shoot him in the head? Can you answer me? Do you even care? Or has this boy, like the many hundreds of thousands of children become a mere statistic to the hundreds of studies being carried about to prove one of two points. Either “We are winning the war” or “We are losing the War”, and whatever in between doesn’t really matter simply because its just another number.
Yup, its just another number, another statistic that will be used to justify the end or is it the means??? Deaths have fallen by 50% they say. I wonder, I wonder if that old man and young boy were included in that statistic. Hmmm, or maybe it doesn’t really matter. Why should it? Deaths have fallen by 50%, so why does it matter. Whats a body here and there? Whats another mother mourning her dead child??? Nothing. Its just another number, Another Decorative Number…
