Iraq + 100

by Hassan Blasim

  ‘We’ve no need for it at all; why should we? We’ve managed without it for quite a long time, and things are much better than they were before. We learnt that the blissfulness of religious existence makes people cruel-hearted, just as any kind of faith does. It desensitises them.’

  ‘I can barely believe this. How does life go on when people live without religion?’

  ‘Quite the opposite, in fact—it’s been years since this city has seen a single dispute. There are no more Sunnis, Shi’as, Christians, or Jews. No more conflicts or civil wars, and no one judges anyone else over his religion.’

  ‘Really? There’s something I want to know, but please don’t make fun of me … are you sure that I’m in Kut? Or did I end up in some other city?’

  ‘Yes, you are in Kut. Sir, you are here in the civilised world, where we have no need for religion. Many wars have been sparked by extremism, religion, sectarianism, and so on. But thank God, who delivered us from religion. We’ve grown so happy without it. He who has God has no need for religion.’

  ‘You’re right, but there’s something else I want to know. Has all this happened thanks to democracy, or.…’

  ‘I’m not sure how it happened, exactly. But history has taken a big turn. Just take America: now it’s an extremist state, gripped by religion.’

  ‘America became an extremist state?’

  ‘Yes, you didn’t know that? It looks like you really don’t know where you are, sir.’

  ‘Right. Like I told you, I was killed a hundred years ago during the war, when the Americans came and occupied Iraq, for democracy’s sake.’

  ‘Ah, well. We know history quite well. The problem, as you recall, was that sectarian war broke out right after American democracy. People hated the way things were; they hated bigotry, hatred, and terrorism, and started to hunt down extremists. The extremists found refuge in America, and that’s the problem now. America has become an extremist state, overrun by religious intolerance. Religious radicals destroyed their buildings and civilisation … it’s become like Afghanistan was a hundred years ago, when it was ruled by the Taliban.’

  ‘Are you telling the truth, sir?’

  ‘Yes, of course. Do you doubt me?’

  ‘To be honest, I … how could I have doubts. I’ve been dead for a hundred years. But I feel like an idiot. What you’re saying is hard to believe. Has America given up on democracy?’

  ‘Yes, America is a rogue state now. It’s part of the axis of evil. The civilised world is trying to bring the country back to its senses and bring back democracy…’

  ‘Good Lord, what are you saying? Who is part of the civilised world, sir?’

  ‘The three civilised, industrialised, democratic nations: Iraq, Saudi Arabia, and Iran! As you know, after Iraq’s transition to democracy, the religious governments in the other two nations fell, and they became secular, democratic countries.’

  ‘Iran and Saudi Arabia?’

  ‘Yes, they are now the vanguard of the civilised world, just like Iraq. The problem is with the West—that’s right, the problem is with the West, which has been transformed into an oasis of terrorism, a haven for religious intolerance and hatred. We have a great duty, sir, to restore democracy to these countries and make the world a safer place. But please excuse me, I’m pressed for time; my girlfriend and I want to go to this event and donate a few things to American refugee children. If you’re looking for a place to relax, there’s a wonderful artsy coffee shop at the end of this street. You could have a bite to eat, or some tea or coffee. It’s all free, for people who don’t have any money on them.’

  ‘Thanks for telling me. Goodbye, sir, goodbye sir, God bless. Helping take care of our brothers, the Americans and the Europeans, their refugees. They deserve to be taken care of, after their countries’ dictatorships.’

  I slapped my forehead. What was going on! Really, was the world still spinning the right way? What has this man said, about Iraq saving the American people from dictatorship, and bringing them back their freedom … and then the whole thing about American refugees in Iraq, could that be right? Iraq offering refugee status, freedom of expression, and other things to Americans who were persecuted in their own country? Did that angel get me drunk before he brought me back to Earth? Honestly, I don’t know whether to go to the coffee shop or find out whether all this is true.

  I walked about a hundred yards and stopped in front of the wonderful artsy coffee shop.

  There was a television out front, and I drank some orange juice, served to me by a pretty waitress. She brought it out on a platter embossed with silver, and set it in front of me on the table.

  ‘Ma’am, could I ask you a question?’

  ‘Of course, go right ahead.’

  ‘Are you from Kut?’

  ‘No sir, I’m from Nasiriyah, I just work here.’

  ‘Nasiriyah? Ah, Nasiriyah. I remember Nasiriyah; I was born in Nasiriyah. Has it developed too, has it become like Kut?’

  ‘Oh even more so, sir. But I just work here—my husband is from Kut, and I’m from Nasiriyah, the Flower of the South, the most advanced city of all.’

  ‘God, I can hardly believe it…’

  ‘Would you like anything else?’

  The newscast had begun, and the president of Iraq appeared on the television screen with his dog in front of a big building.

  ‘Is that the president of Iraq?’ I asked her.

  ‘Yes, standing in front of the Green House, and that’s his dog. He’s going to give an important speech about the war against religious extremism in America, human rights violations, and of course violations of women’s rights and freedom of expression…’

  ‘Ah, well then I’ll listen to what he has to say.’

  * * *

  Believe me, gentlemen, that’s everything that happened! While I was watching the news on television two men walked in and came towards me. They looked like police, I could tell by their clothes and the insignia they wore. They stood right in front of me, and I looked up at them.

  ‘Sir, may we kindly see your papers?’ The skinnier, younger one said.

  ‘To be honest, I haven’t got any papers.…’

  ‘You’re under suspicion—you’re an American, sir, you have the air of someone angry, and religious; there’s a note of terrorism in your booming, explosive voice.’

  ‘No sir, not at all,’ I begged. ‘That kind of talk is passé, from an earlier era in this country … back then, it was fine to talk like this, it wasn’t terrorism.’

  ‘Are you Iraqi?’

  ‘Yes, I swear. I’m Corporal Sobhan, haven’t you studied history? Don’t any of you write about me? I’m the one whose brains were splattered like bird shit by an American sniper. I’m a war hero, a martyr, if you still don’t recognise me, I swear, my case is still under review, I came here to spread religion—’

  ‘Religion?’

  ‘Yes, religion.’

  ‘So you admit you’re a terrorist?’

  ‘Listen, I swear, it’s not like that at all, let me tell you. Listen to me, wait a minute, just hold on, before I go with you…’

  * * *

  The rain began to fall that afternoon, lightly at first, and then harder, striking tall glass buildings and showering the trees. The rain lasted for about twenty-five minutes, and then it left patches of blue sky behind. After the clouds receded, cascades of light descended. White steam began to rise up from the tarmac on the long street, and cars gleamed as they drove by. There were boats with white sails in the Tigris, and above Kut were delicate clouds. Reedy music poured down from the balconies.

  A lawyer mentioned that the Kut Observer had omitted two facts: first, that her client faced terrorism charges, and second, that the newspaper failed to cover an important piece of news from America, news of rumours sweeping the nation that the Antichrist had appeared in Iraq.

  THE WORKER

  DIAA JUBAILI

  TRANSLATED BY ANDREW LEBER

  To the Head of t
he Governing Council of Basra

  Office of the Governor General

  Memo: Consultation

  Regarding Your Excellency’s enquiry as to the possible existence of historical occurrences more horrendous, more extensive, or at least equal to the unfortunate phenomena and bloody events of the past few years. You requested our counsel—for which we are grateful—in finding examples that match or surpass the tragedies and catastrophes which have occurred in our dear city since the disastrous exhaustion of our oil and gas, which are as follows (pursuant to the list that you provided us within your correspondence):

  1.  Mass killings via explosions or demolition of residential buildings, including those committed by terrorist groups

  2.  Famine, leading to such measures as the consumption of stray cats and dogs by hungry residents

  3.  Sale of, and trade in, children and young women

  4.  Homelessness and extreme poverty

  5.  Spread of sickness and epidemics, especially the plague

  6.  Ethnic purges

  7. Widespread theft and looting

  8. Unemployment

  In accordance with your desires, we group of experts in the field of history, appointed at the behest of Your Excellency as advisors, have conducted research deep within various volumes and the oldest archives of humanity. We return with a summary that we here enclose. May you find it helpful to peruse, that our service to your Excellency may reflect upon us as though a gleaming crown, as we give honour to your exalted personage.

  Note: Regarding Your Lordship’s counsel on the statues in the city, we think it unwise to maintain them without sparing a thought for exploiting the material they are made of—bronze. We therefore present our recommendation that these statues be removed for sale, so that their value may be employed in the public interest.

  * * *

  The Governor set aside the memo and began to sift through the papers beneath it. He was the latest in a long line of religious strongmen who had taken power in the city since the British-American occupation, a century before. Clearly he approved of the recommendations made by the Council of Advisors, the fruit of their research piled up in the yellow file opened in front of him on the heavy wooden table. You could see it in the slight smile that flickered across his lips—with maybe a hint of craftiness—before disappearing beneath his other twitches. Then, he pulled a set of prayer beads—black with an amber gloss—from his jacket pocket, and began muttering words, as if reciting a prayer, like the 101 glorifications, perhaps, one for each of the beads.

  He stopped every three or four beads—the muttering increasing, his lips rippling like he was trying to dislodge something stuck in his mouth from breakfast.

  When it came time for the Governor’s monthly address, he would commit the first hour of the day to these spiritual exercises. Instead of the usual stack of papers—agreements and protocols and decrees for signing, carried in by an aide at the start of the day—he would sit with the historians’ compilations and refresh his memory on historical events more violent and chaotic than the city’s current afflictions.

  Once he got underway, the Governor would slowly relax, sinking back into his luxurious chair. He would close his eyes or raise his head a little, his thumbs and fingers never stopping as they worked through the prayer beads. His jacket sleeve would lift up from time to time, revealing a thick silver watch that illuminated its surroundings with its digital screen. Then he would start clicking through the web, often to check out a YouTube clip from his latest sermon.

  Once satisfied with what he planned to say, he would prepare himself to appear on the large television screen in Umm al-Burum Square1, to give his infamous sermons to the people.

  He would adjust his attire in front of a gold-framed mirror, checking to make sure there were no stray hairs or missed buttons. Then he would sit facing the camera set up by his desk. Behind him, a picture of himself gesturing to the gathered crowds from within a white, heavily armored maglev car, his hand heavy with bejeweled rings of agate, ruby, turquoise. Blond, bulky American bodyguards surrounded the car, laden with deadly weaponry.

  The Governor would often invite a group of journalists to his study whenever an enormous explosion, an atrocious massacre, or some other crisis stormed through the city and left thousands of dead, crippled, and demented in its wake. He would charm them for hours, his cultured words unfolding as though composed for a rhetoric competition on some religious program. All of these flatterers would gape at him just like the simple villagers in Umm al-Burum square. They were in awe of the Governor’s logic, his deftness with words, his skill for devising the cleverest phrases.

  On that particular day, the Governor sat in his usual place, cleared his throat with a few bismallahs, and a few prayers, then recited the names of God and cursed the devils in the room, as well as all critics and unbelievers. Then he began his sermon of justification:

  ‘You know, dear brothers and sisters, that we live in the shadow of a dire crisis, much as we pray with all our hearts and souls that this affliction be lifted from our nation. Yet this does not mean that the crisis is unprecedented in the history of nations past and present. All who think otherwise are certainly mistaken. My brothers and sisters, let me reassure you that my government is sparing no effort and utilizing all power at its disposal to discover new sources of energy to compensate for our sharp loss of wealth.

  ‘As you know, in not-so-distant times people relied on coal to make their lives easier. Perhaps the thought occurred to one of them: “What if the coal runs out one day?” But look at what happened next—it was not too long before they discovered oil! Yes, and when our oil and gas ran out we came across uranium. When the uranium was used up we searched and searched until we found mercury. No sooner had the mercury run out than we started looking for other sources of wealth, like solar power or the precious bronze that sprawled out before us in our gardens and public squares, in the form of these useless, trivial figures.

  ‘It is true that utterly disgraceful things have happened; acts reminiscent of infidel tyrants, murderous sultans. Yet all of these events are nothing compared to what happened before, in terms of the extent of destruction and the depth of the tragedy involved. So let me say …

  ‘It is not astonishing that a building or two is blown up after being worn away by time and wear. Let us compare, for example, with New York more than one hundred years ago, when terrorists attacked the two towers of the World Trade Center. The airplanes turned them to ruins!

  ‘It is irrational for us to be shocked that the city is subjected to similar events right now. These tragedies have caused the deaths of thousands, yes, but many more thousands, millions indeed, starve to death in the forests of Africa or the mud of India. Here are just some examples of ruinous famines that have made a mockery of humanity with the losses they caused.’

  The Governor picked up a thick packet of papers from the table beside him and began to leaf through them on camera.

  ‘Ibn Khaldun2 relates that the people of Talmisan—in the year 1304—were forced to eat corpses, cats, and rats. You might think that was just a rumour Ibn Khaldun spread about, but the matter was put to rest, I would argue, by Ibn al-Ahmar3, who confirmed that the residents of Talmisan did indeed dine on each other. On top of this, they would empty out their own bowels and dry the contents in the sun, before cooking it up and feeding it to their children!

  ‘And don’t let me start on the lesser cities of ancient Egypt where people on the Upper Nile ate their children, or Timbuktu where half the residents of died of hunger. Let us think of Iraq specifically, taking the famine of 1918 as an example.’

  He flipped ahead several pages.

  ‘The Iraqi researcher Abd al-Aziz al-Qassab4 relates to us in his writings what he saw en route from Aleppo to Mosul. When he entered the village of Damir Qabu he witnessed long lines of starving people waiting for their turn to grab a piece of meat from a dead animal—I believe it was dog! Furthermore,
there were those who gathered up the blood of slaughtered animals to eat later.’5

  Here, he held up a yellowing document, the spindly script barely legible.

  ‘I have here an old copy of a Turkish newspaper from that time, which carries a remarkable dialogue between a judge and a woman—an ugly, short criminal type. Her sallow face was apparently covered with red spots, like smallpox. She and her husband, known as Aboud, and no less ugly, conspired to kidnap children or buy them. Then they would slaughter them, cook their meat, and sell it to the people. The government found nearly a hundred little skulls in her house, in addition to a great number of other bones, piled up in a pit in her basement.

  ‘In the end, the court found that there was no choice but to execute both of them. When the time came to carry out the execution, they were carried on the backs of two donkeys on their way to Bab al-Tuub in Mosul, where two hangman’s nooses had been prepared for them. They endured their share of cursing and spitting from the crowd on their way. Aboud, the husband, hurled curses back at the crowd with arrogance in his eyes.

  ‘Once they were hanged, the mothers of their victims came forward to tear at the criminals’ feet with their teeth. One of those women screamed as she gnawed on a piece of the woman’s leg, “They ate three of my children!”.’

  The Governor paused, looking up from his papers to look straight at the camera. ‘So—what do you think, then?

  ‘If you want, I could tell you shocking tales that happened during the great famines in China, the Soviet Union, Bangladesh, Ukraine, Ireland, Biafra, North Korea, Zimbabwe, Somalia … And that’s leaving out all the famines in Europe and all the other continents during the Middle Ages—but it would take too long! The questions that occur to me now seem to be as follows:

  ‘Have any of you eaten your children? Have any of you defecated, then dried what came out to cook it and eat it? Have any of you reached the point where you’re hungry enough to steal children, cook their flesh, and sell what’s left to the starving at a discount?

  ‘I therefore advise you all to look around and not complain, since complaining is the hallmark of the hypocrite. Give thanks that you have not yet reached such a terrifying level of hunger! As for eating cats and insects and stray dogs, I feel this is a sign of shortages the world over, and not in our country specifically.