“The fact of being alive compensated for what life did to one.” Salman Rushdie, Satanic Verses
It was early evening when I finished a two-hour phone call with a friend of mine. The night had arrived. The nights always seem to arrive quickly in Baghdad. I hate the night.
The conversation with Dave was still echoing in my head. I was thinking about what I told him, which was:
“The thought of being five years behind T-walls is killing me. It’s tearing me apart. Now it’s like a Chinese torture, where you feel the drop of each thought. I’m trying to reframe it, to be positive, to look at the bright side, but when the night comes, I’m losing the battle. Ah…I hate it…
I feel I’ve wasted five years of my thirties, a good percent of my best years huddled behind the gray concrete walls that surround where I work in Iraq.
photo credit: Diego Montoya
I’ve been battling destiny vs. choice. I feel when I’m here; I want to be there. And if I’m there, I want to be here. When I’m in Iraq, I feel sure I cannot stay here anymore. When I’m in America, I feel I can no longer live the American life.
And it’s not that Iraq is taking one step forward and 10 steps back. Or America seems, at times, so terribly uninformed, and even worse…happily carrying on thinking mostly about “keeping up with the Kardashians”.
I believe it’s deeper than that…maybe it’s more of a belonging problem. I feel I can’t belong in Iraqi society anymore, nor I can belong in American society, which is scary. It seems it’s an identity problem…Maybe? Or maybe is it the camaraderie that I cannot find in America? But, I do feel this: that I’m never settled. I have no home, no country.
When I wake up in the morning, I feel determined to win the day and reframe the negative thoughts in my head to positive. Thousands of people would wish to have my job. It’s a dream job. Certainly, I’ve been lucky to have it.
But it has been five years since I came to Iraq. The New Year is approaching, and I promised myself last year would be the last New Year’s Eve in Iraq. But, I failed and will spend yet another New Year’s Eve here – behind T-walls…at the best, artful.
photo credit: Diego Montoya
I am not happy with my choice on that.
The dark sky above me doesn’t even bother to answer: And why should it? It’s like God is chuckling at me and saying: “You made a plan… yeah right. I’ve my own plan for you.”
Why am I writing this? What is the point, besides feeling confused about where to live?
I guess the only point is I missed celebrating New Year’s Eve with my Assyrian people.
I want to tell this to my Assyrian cousins…
Please enjoy your New Year’s Eve. Enjoy the Assyrian party.
One day, I will join you.
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