I know it have been so long since I wrote my last post, I know you were worried about me, and I also know that you are sorry about what is going on in Iraq.I know all that just because I heard it over and over again till I wear your shoes and forgot that I am the one who is living this life, till I felt that I am sorry for me, my poor wounded soul.
I wish the reason of not writing a new post that I was busy with my lessons, or I was busy with Aya and Ayman. But it's not. Right now I concider myself half human.
All days are the same, it just like the other days.. repeating itself, Woke up early, took my breakfast and study and study and study till my course's time came,after that I'll go to have it and then get back and study AGAIN.
the Same program is running in my life and I accept it if that doesn't mean the killing, bombing and stealing will go on too.
I spent a very bad and hard days since I wrote my last post.The situations is deteriorating rapidly, I don't know from where I should start, many things happened I can't number them. but here are some examples:
My dad went to his work with my sister, Aya was with them in the car, and my dad was driving when they heard the sound of few bullets towards the soldiers' tank.
the tanks was infront of my father's car in the other direction of the road. My father's car was not the only car there. Anyway after the shooting stop. The soldiers got crazy as they always did. They ordered the people who sit inside the cars to get out and put their hand on their head as the soldiers' order. The soldiers throw out everything from my father's pocket. My father asked the soldiers to send Aya and her mother to the car because it was too hot. They didn't even try to listen to him,they shouted loudly and didn't accept to hear a word. In the moment the Iraqi police told my sister that she can go to the car and she have to keep the doors open.
My sister sat on the car with my little niece Aya who was shouting for getting my father back, crying probobly because she was thirsty. My sister fear to move her hand and open her bag and get the water from it, you don't guess the soldiers reaction about that. She stayed in her place thinking of my father, what is he thinking on that moment, what is he feeling, is he thirsty, she was worried about his state because my father had a hard attack and it's not good for normal people to be in that situation so what about a 60-year-old man. She was cursing them silently. What a humiliation to a respectful man .
The situation continued for an hour and a half but for some people like my sister it seems like a year. When he returned back to the home, Dad said nothing at all, my sister said "you didn't know what happened to us today!" my father said "nothing". She told the story and my father didn't comment, trying not to make us worried, picking the glass and drinking the water as he always do.
It just needs a strong man like my father to forget it, I am not a man and I am not strong. When the danger is around me, my family or around my friend I can't sit watching. It's not war against Sadam or against the terror only; it's a war against us, it's a psychological war.
To live or not to live this is the question.
Bye bye peace of mind, see you in heaven: maybe
Note: I will write the update soon, I just write one from many.