Baghdad: The Final Gathering

by Ahmad Ardalan

  Mr. Shadi and I reopened our place a month later, for life had to move on. Some people were optimistic, and others were not. Change was coming, for better or worse.

  Chapter 9: The Resistance

  Months passed, and there were actually some positive outcomes after the fall of Baghdad. First, it was determined that there were no weapons of mass destruction, something the United Nations inspectors and their Iraqi counterpart had debated for over a decade. Months after the invasion, the Americans admitted that their previous information wasn’t accurate; it only took months, and that made it all the more pitiful that thousands upon thousands lost their lives because of unjustified sanctions.

  With the removal of the embargo that had tortured us for a dozen years, foreign companies from all around started entering the Iraqi market, and goods from worldwide sources were again available to the Iraqi people. Medicine, health equipment, food, beverages, electronics, cars, and almost everything else flooded the market. Things that had been unavailable for over ten years or were too expensive for most could now be afforded and easily obtained.

  People were relieved from some of the strict rules and laws that existed under the old regime. For instance, the media was no longer censored. Satellite television was banned during Saddam’s days, but now many homes were able to install their own dishes, and some even had two or three. Newspapers printed whatever they wanted. It was a new kind of democracy, yet beneath all that freedom, there still existed a hidden religious agenda. People could move about far more freely, without all the restrictions and guidelines, so traveling was now easy.

  Graduates from all sectors were issued passports and left Iraq, and while that might have seemed like a good opportunity for them, but it did not bode well for Iraq’s future. Doctors, dentists, pharmacists, lawyers, and engineers fled Iraq to chase their dreams in the West. Their first stop was Jordan, and from there, God only knew where they would go.

  Emad called us late one Saturday night. “I am going to continue my studies abroad,” he said. “Some of our college professors have left, and more will follow. It is better to do this sooner, rather than later, to beat the others.”

  He was the first to leave from our gang, and Aws followed months later. They closed their family business, rented their houses for a good sum, and moved to Jordan. In less than half a year, we were already divided.

  For all the good changes, there were also plenty of bad consequences to face after the war, and they sorely outweighed the benefits. The Iraq infrastructure was at its worst. Roads and bridges were heavily damaged and left in poor repair, and electricity was scarce. The water was polluted, and even in the land of oil, the supply of petrol could not meet the demand, since too many refineries were damaged and could not be repaired quickly enough. It was so bad that we had to wait up to eight hours to fill the tanks of our cars.

  Security wasn’t good either, and every now and then, American forces and those who worked with them, either local translators or contractors, were targeted, considered traitors. In response, the Americans struck back. People were killed, including some innocent bystanders. The Coalition also made some arrests, sometimes wrongful, based on incorrect information. Former Baathists could not find work and were not even afforded their end-of-service rights, even though some were teachers and managers who had loyally served for over three decades. Large numbers of people began to get fed up, feeling they were being treated inhumanely. Division ran rampant among the people, and they began classifying one another: Arabs, Kurds, Shia, and Sunnis. It was horrible, and it was evident that we were headed down a dark tunnel.

  With each passing day, we hear more and more about Sunnis and Shias, the two main sectors of Islam. Every now and then, people discussed the differences between the two. What started as normal conversations would soon devolve into violent, heated arguments, even between friends. Within a week, I was asked at least a dozen times by customers who visited Kings and Queens if I was a Sunni or a Shia. That had never happened before, and it was very disconcerting. Before, the differences did not matter. I was a Sunni, but I never cared what my friends were, and my family didn’t care either. In fact, two of my aunts were married to Shias, and two of my best friends were Shias too. We all lived peacefully together, and I did not see what anyone stood to gain by rehashing differences that happened over 1,400 years ago. As long as we all lived in harmony, with everyone granted the right to his or her own beliefs, it did not matter. Unfortunately, not everyone felt that way. Hidden agendas of parties supported by powerful people within Iraq and neighboring countries played a role in carefully planting a very poisonous seed of discontentment within our community.

  The new faces the Iraqi people started to become familiar with represented parties that had no problem showing their religious colors in public. If there were twenty-five parties, ten were Sunni, ten were Shia, and five were moderate or trying to be. The latter were quickly outnumbered by the religious ones, and their voices were rarely heard over the tumult. In some cases, those who favored moderate thinking were targeted and assassinated.

  Iraq was changing from within, but at the same time, more and more confrontations with the Americans were coming to light. Those only escalated when human rights violations were committed by American forces in Abu Gharib prison. Footage of sexual abuse was shown on every channel, and Iraqi prisoners were humiliated by being forced to strip naked and gather into pyramids by their captors. Prisoners were forced to engage in sexual acts with each other, under heavy torture. That was not acceptable, especially within the western part of Iraq, where many of the prisoners originally came from. The resistance gained numbers and became more organized. People who were personally mistreated by the Americans joined, including former Iraqi Army personnel. Some Baathist members who had lost their jobs, their properties, and even their rights were onboard. Then there were the Islamic extremists, mainly Al-Qaeda. In the end, it was Al-Al-Qaeda who took over and ruined any pure national resistance. The crazed fanatics outnumbered the rest, controlled the engagements, and formed the so-called insurgency, but they were all considered Sunnis. For their part, followers of a powerful Shia cleric formed what was called the Al Mahdi Army and started to gain power. Their numbers increased largely by the day. They considered the Americans invaders and called for their immediate withdrawal. Withdrawal at once.

  Slowly, Iraq began to simmer to a slow boil. On one side, the Sunnis continued clashing with the Americans, and a powerful Shia army worked against the American occupation as well. At the same time, the division between the Sunnis and Shias deepened hastily, and both sides became more and more hostile.

  Saddam was captured in late December of that same year. He faced trial months later, but the matter in which the trial was held only increased the divisions within the country.

  Falluja, a predominately Sunni city within the western Anbar province in Iraq, clashed with the Americans time and time again, even throughout 2003. In March of 2004, an American convoy carrying private contractors was ambushed within the city, and all four men were killed. That mounted pressure on the American government to get involved, and American forces were ordered to finally siege the city. Operation after operation failed, until December. More than 100 U.S. forces were killed, and over 1,000 were injured. The resistance suffered losses that mounted up to thousands, and 60 percent of the city was damaged. Much blood was spilled and much damage was done, but there would be no peaceful outcome in the transition of power after Saddam’s fall. In the eyes of most Sunnis, the Americans were just violent invaders. The Al Mahdi army clashed with the Americans in the south of Iraq, spilling more blood from both sides. Many of the Shias now considered the Americans invaders and no longer thought of them as liberators. The honeymoon was over, so to speak, if there ever was one to begin with.

  Until February 22, 2006, the differences between the Shias and the Sunnis were always dealt with via talks, but that all changed that day, when a group of armored men took control of an important S
hia shrine in Samarra, a predominately Sunni city. Men planted two bombs inside the shrine and hurried out. The explosion destroyed a great portion of the structure and resulted in the collapse of one of the largest domes in the Islamic world. Al-Qaeda claimed responsibility, and the Sunnis condemned the act. Shias from all over Iraq were furious, and violent clashes broke out in every part of Baghdad. Sectarian melee erupted, and innocent Sunnis and Shias fell victim to it. In the end, bloodshed only brought about more bloodshed and accomplished nothing.

  Saddam was executed on December 30, 2006. The current government thought that by eliminating the head of the previous regime, the sectarian conflict, the insurgency, and the instability would fade. They couldn’t have been more wrong, because the division had taken root years ago, and its fruits were ready to be picked.

  ***

  As always, time flew by. I couldn’t believe it had been over four years since the fall of Baghdad, and what started as a nearly quiet transition had escalated to a fierce one. My partner sold his share and was now far away, residing in San Diego. I couldn’t blame him, as Iraq was no place for a Christian anymore. Frankly, if things continued the way they were, it wouldn’t be a place for a moderate Iraqi Muslim either. Things were changing at lightning speed, but life had to move on, and business was business.

  My center and the newly acquired area I bought from the owner next door needed some work, especially since other modern, newly decorated gaming centers had opened nearby. Kings and Queens was no longer the talk of the area, and I needed to up my game. The daily problems in Iraq had become routine, but I could not place blame and do nothing. I had a business to run, and many people depended on me.

  My trip to Istanbul was an important one. I would be joined by Sameer, a Syrian friend, and business associate, a genuine soul I had the fortune of meeting some years ago. We planned to visit some companies that would help me turn my place into something my competitors could only dream of.

  Sameer had been my overseas contact for over five years. Mr. Shadi introduced him to me when our business grew, and it was always great to work with him. He was a trustworthy person, as well as extremely ambitious, and we had done well together. I met him at a small hotel in the Sultan Ahmet area. We had a day and a half before our meetings, which were scheduled to start Monday morning.

  It was my first true visit to Istanbul. I was there nearly a decade before, for eight hours, in transit to Italy. That time, I decided to take a quick tour of the city. I saw the blue mosque, enjoyed a great kebab—a spicy Adana kebab, to be more precise—then took a taxi ride back to the airport. All in all, I’d spent only three hours in the only city in the world that lies in both Europe and Asia. Those few hours were nothing for a great city mentioned in almost all history books, as either Istanbul or Constantinople.

  Sameer had changed a lot since our last meeting. I saw his white hair from yards away as he disembarked from the taxi in front of the place where we would be staying, but his smile was as youthful as ever. His black glasses were the same rounded ones he always wore, the ones that darkened when exposed to sunlight. He was there to help me buy all I needed to equip a full playground for the space I had acquired next to my arcade, an 850-square-meter rectangle. I saw lots of designs, mostly from China, but the company I was visiting in Turkey offered superior playthings. The colors were brighter, and they were higher quality and far more attractive. They were about a third higher-priced than the Chinese version, but that was precisely why I invited Sameer; he was great at negotiating, and he spoke Turkish very well. I was on a tight budget, and I also needed to reserve some funds to refurbish the interior, especially The Arcade room. Sameer promised that he had some good contacts and would be able to get the items for the prices I had in mind.

  The room I booked offered a spectacular view of the blue mosque, one of the jewels of Ottoman Empire architecture. It was a cool November day, but I still could not resist stepping out to take in that panorama. After resting for a few hours, I called Sameer, ordered some Turkish coffee from room service, and talked to my friend while enjoying the old city.

  We both sat down to absorb the sunset and its reflections on the minarets off the great mosque. We talked for hours about Iraq and the changes there, as well as in Syria, and then we got down to business. I explained to him the challenges I was facing, the expansions I wanted to make, and all my brilliant ideas. I had a vision, and it would be the first of many playground complexes, even though danger lurked in the coming days of Iraq. “It is in times like these that I want to bring joy to the children of Baghdad, Sameer. If making money comes along with that, I can’t ask for more,” I told him.

  Although Sameer was mostly interactive, I felt he was distant at times. He really did look quite a bit older, so I gave him some time to consider my words and open up, but he said nothing.

  Finally, I had to ask, “Sameer, what’s going on? You don’t seem like yourself. Where’s that famous laugh we all make fun of?”

  “I’ve been thinking a lot lately. I am thirty-eight now,” he said. “I’ve lived a fast life, full of adventures, and I’ve been married for thirteen years now, but I have no children,” he said.

  “That was your choice, as I recall. Correct me if I’m wrong,” I said.

  “Yes, yes, that was my choice at first, but for the past year, I’ve been wondering if I was right. I’m getting older, and my wife isn’t getting any younger. Did I do the right thing? All those around me have kids who are now their height. I just don’t now, Omar. Maybe I made a mistake.”

  “Well, Sameer, no one can really answer that for you. Some people love having kids and are 100 percent convinced that it’s the best thing. Others make that decision just because they feel it’s part of the cycle of life, whether they like it or not. Then there are those who don’t want them, for they are happy with their life as it is. No one but you can say whether or not children are right for you. I don’t see it as a huge problem. Age is just a number. You can trying having them now, and maybe by next year, I can call you a father.”

  “At 40 years old? I can barely keep up with youngsters now, Omar,” he said with a chuckle. “How will I run after a kid in a few years? I just don’t think I have the physical stamina or the mentality for it. But then I wonder, if things stay the way they are, how will my wife and I have in fifteen years, when we need kids the most?” He paused and looked around, as if deep in thought. “Did you know we came here for our honeymoon?”

  “No, I didn’t know that,” I said, shocked.

  “Well, when you told me you booked this place, I thought it’d be the icing on the cake, a remedy for all my troubles when all the memories came flooding back. They did, the very minute I saw the hotel lobby. Believe it or not, this place hasn’t changed since that day, but I have. Omar, the minute I opened the curtains, I closed my eyes and saw myself and my wife, younger versions of us. She was as happy as a flying bird. That first night, she was already naming our kids. Then reality shocked us, and life happened. The first few years were very hard on us financially, and then she got sick. After that… Well, the years just passed by,” he concluded.

  “Sameer, you’ve had a good life, albeit a selfish one, I might say. I remember you said you traveled to fifty cities and enjoyed every one of them. I think it’s time for you to give back to your wife and to this world, time to bring a new person into it, a living memory. Don’t depend on the past. Make a new memory, one you can enjoy now and in the future. I mean, look at me. I lost my wife, but I still have the most beautiful daughter. I would not change that for the world. Next year, you will be a daddy too,” I said, ending the conversation with a pat on his back.

  Finally, he let out one of his well-known laughs, and I could not resist laughing along with him.

  After he left the room, I sat on the balcony, covered in a thick blanket, talking to Fatima on the phone. Her voice was a melody to my ears, the soothing I needed. It has been three months since Fatima and her daughters had moved to Amm
an in Jordan. She was a Shia, and the area where she was living was dominated by Sunnis. Although she really had little to do with either, she woke up one day to find “Shias out” painted in red on her front door. The next day, she found empty bullets scattered all over her garden. Sadly, that was the new Iraq.

  Within a week, we emptied her home of everything she felt was necessary and rented the house to a Sunni family I knew. She resigned from her job and headed to Jordan a few weeks later. Luckily, she managed to find a daycare to work in there.

  As soon as she was settled, I urged her to make a decision. I wanted her to marry me. Much time had passed, and everyone had moved on, but her answer was still the same: She was not ready and still feared the wrath of society if she married her ex-husband’s cousin. Even though our families were scattered around the world, not as close as before, there was a relative connection that even time could not erase. She was afraid that her daughters would never understand, and she did not want to lose them as well, after she’d already lost so much in Iraq. Again, I respected her decision, and our relationship remained the same. It was peaceful for the most part, but sometimes our questionable future got the better of us. Nonetheless, we were always there for each other, and I needed to hear her on the phone that night.

  I listened as Fatima spoke about her new passion. She had started to learn the art of painting on glass and had been attending classes for the past two weeks. She said she painted several versions of my eyes in different colors; in the end, she was convinced hazel was the best fit. Sameer’s laugh made me laugh, but when Fatima laughs the whole world ceases to exist. I closed my eyes and imagined her, and suddenly, my soul seemed to take flight, soaring into the sky above all those mosques in that great city. As soon as we hung up, I fell asleep, content and happy.