It rained today and with the rain some emotions tend to surface as divers in the ocean…
It rained today; I wanted to cry with sky.
Thursday, February 24, 2005
Sunday, February 13, 2005
Abdul Amir Al Shuwayli
How loud would a scream have to be for Abdul Amir?
... How will all those who have not voted dispel the guilt?
... How will all those who have not voted dispel the guilt?
Sunday, February 06, 2005
An Iraqi Wedding
I went to vote for the Iraqi elections on January 29th 2005.
The first moment that my heart soared and was about to leave its place of comfort from amongst my ribs, was when Iraq was rid of its dictator. That was when I felt spiritually repatriated. Home. Iraq. How I have longed for this. I have used this word so often since then that it seems to no longer be as such, yet has been reduced to every second breath that I take.
The days that I went to register & to vote, were another. I had not ceased to speak of how important it is to vote, how imperative it is to take this stand, for many reasons, but three are at the top; firstly to cast a vote at an historical event for the whole of the modern Arab world – never has there been such a free election in choice – Secondly, to stand united in the face of destruction and malicious intent of all that oppose life, and thirdly because if one doesn’t vote now, regrets won’t help later.
I went to vote for a parliament that would have several parties and not a single dictatorship, I went to vote to have a democracy, I went to vote knowing in all probability that the party which I may have voted for may not lead. I went and felt very proudly Iraqi.
Walking across the parking lot between the Dubai World Trade Center and Emirates Towers on Sheikh Zayed road, I would glance at fellow Iraqi’s from all walks of life, TV. presenters, businessmen/women, singers, waiters, entrepreneurs, older men/women and see a glow, rather feel a glow of something intangible, perhaps hope, hope that may have been lost before but gently and hesitantly cherished and regained, hope for a new Iraq.
Past the security check each individual is escorted to the desk at which they had registered, I dipped my right forefinger into the wet purplish sponge, like a bride preparing for her wedding, like it was henna to celebrate the beginning of a prosperous and fruitful life, and I waited for it to dry as I would with henna, so the color may be more opulent, to show my hands with pride.
I read through all the names of parties & individuals and slowly, very slowly, savoring the moment, delighting in its uniqueness I placed my tick! Voila! All done! I wanted to jump and sing, I did, the invisible little me inside. As I stepped from behind the booth they all congratulated me, yes it was a wedding, my wedding all Iraqis’ wedding, yes it is a joyous moment for all of us! I congratulated them back.
Perhaps my step may have had a bounce, visible to a few, yet for me I walked on air, as the breeze blew against my face I hesitated to raise my fingers and gently touch dew like drops resting on my cheeks, a trail of happiness that my eyes had to share, I think most of us who walked out of that tent let out a sigh of hope, hanging on to the fragile threads woven for a new tapestry telling the tale of a gloriously colorful Iraqi wedding
The first moment that my heart soared and was about to leave its place of comfort from amongst my ribs, was when Iraq was rid of its dictator. That was when I felt spiritually repatriated. Home. Iraq. How I have longed for this. I have used this word so often since then that it seems to no longer be as such, yet has been reduced to every second breath that I take.
The days that I went to register & to vote, were another. I had not ceased to speak of how important it is to vote, how imperative it is to take this stand, for many reasons, but three are at the top; firstly to cast a vote at an historical event for the whole of the modern Arab world – never has there been such a free election in choice – Secondly, to stand united in the face of destruction and malicious intent of all that oppose life, and thirdly because if one doesn’t vote now, regrets won’t help later.
I went to vote for a parliament that would have several parties and not a single dictatorship, I went to vote to have a democracy, I went to vote knowing in all probability that the party which I may have voted for may not lead. I went and felt very proudly Iraqi.
Walking across the parking lot between the Dubai World Trade Center and Emirates Towers on Sheikh Zayed road, I would glance at fellow Iraqi’s from all walks of life, TV. presenters, businessmen/women, singers, waiters, entrepreneurs, older men/women and see a glow, rather feel a glow of something intangible, perhaps hope, hope that may have been lost before but gently and hesitantly cherished and regained, hope for a new Iraq.
Past the security check each individual is escorted to the desk at which they had registered, I dipped my right forefinger into the wet purplish sponge, like a bride preparing for her wedding, like it was henna to celebrate the beginning of a prosperous and fruitful life, and I waited for it to dry as I would with henna, so the color may be more opulent, to show my hands with pride.
I read through all the names of parties & individuals and slowly, very slowly, savoring the moment, delighting in its uniqueness I placed my tick! Voila! All done! I wanted to jump and sing, I did, the invisible little me inside. As I stepped from behind the booth they all congratulated me, yes it was a wedding, my wedding all Iraqis’ wedding, yes it is a joyous moment for all of us! I congratulated them back.
Perhaps my step may have had a bounce, visible to a few, yet for me I walked on air, as the breeze blew against my face I hesitated to raise my fingers and gently touch dew like drops resting on my cheeks, a trail of happiness that my eyes had to share, I think most of us who walked out of that tent let out a sigh of hope, hanging on to the fragile threads woven for a new tapestry telling the tale of a gloriously colorful Iraqi wedding
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