Friday, July 28, 2006

When the victims are your ........

When the victim is your uncle:
They built our future..
They gave us life..........
our hopes died when they died....
They are the victims of this war..

Before a couple of days, I was sitting with my family watching TV. At about 11:30, I went to bed. And noticed that I have UN read message in my mobile phone. It was from my friend Maas. I thought it was a normal message; it might be a joke or something like that. I read the message and it said: my family is in a horrible state, my uncle was killed this morning when he was in his way home from the mosque (in Baghdad). The feeling I felt that moment I can't describe, I rush down stare and told my parents and then I went to my bedroom and cry for a long times. I feel very sorry for Maas, she was too busy this month, she went to Baghdad and do an extra examination.

When the victim is your family:
The danger surrounding us all the time but this time was not the same.
hearing a sound of bomb is something we use to, so we don't disturb ourselves and stop doing whatever we are just because a sound of bomb. This time and after a while my father's phone rang. My uncle was on the phone and he told my father that two mortars fell on the roof of his house. He was sleeping on his bed when the explosion took place, at that time a little peaces of the roof fell on his bed and on the floor. His wife said that she didn't aware that the mortar fell on their own house at that moment. She went to the room where she found my uncle sitting on his bed and holding few peaces of stone.

And when the victim is your family:
A new day has come when a bombing car exploded in front of my relatives' house. All the windows and all the doors broken. The explosion was too close from their house and it was too big. Three of my relatives injured and moved to the hospital. They are ok now. But many people lost their life because of that bombing car.

At the beginning of the war, when we heared an explosion, we hold the phone and called all the family and make sure that they are all fine. But now and because the explosion don't stop all the day, we stop calling each others. But when the explosion hurt someone from the family, in this the victims.

When the victim is you:
Our souls live in our hearts..
Our hearts are inside our bodies..
Our bodies living in our homes....
Our homes are our country.........
Our country had been destroyed..
we are the victims of this war...........

I consider all the people living in Iraq victims. And I am a victim because I am living in Iraq. I am a victim because no day passes without hurting me in someway or another. I am a victim because every day makes me weaker. I am a victim because I will be the victim sooner or later.
The people who killed and died, they left Iraq and their suffering.
But we! We are still suffering and we are waiting our turn to die and left Iraq.

When the victim is your niece:
Iraqi children are the victims of the war. Aya is a victim of the war. What will you call a baby of one and a half year's old living under this state??
Could you find a baby at that age know what is generator mean? When the electricity turn off, she began to cry and shouted for generator (generator please turn on... generator please turn on) isn't she a real victim of this war???

No wonder that one of her first words was (the weather is hot).

How funnyis for me to see her suffering. When the electricity turned off and the generator turned off. Aya stand in front of the fan and said the weather is hot, doing all the expression on her face to express her needs. Her needs was not eassy to get but so easy to lose.

Note:this post was written before a week.

Saturday, July 08, 2006

Fighting to keep alive

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.