“They share the bread of death, then they die” is a line from the song presented on YouTube below. I closely follow the news about Iraq, and blog on it on my blog
News About Iraq and occasionally on the
Today In Iraq blog. Before I blogged, I read extensively and nearly daily on the news in Iraq. I have no trouble believing that 655,000+ Iraqis have died since the start of the war in March 2003. I know that Iraqis are suffering horribly, and I want to present some of their stories, from their own blogs. I want more Americans to fully understand just what horror these people are living under at this time. I hope you will watch the video below and read the words from Iraqis themselves.
The first two pieces are from the post
Tales from Mesopotamia, from the Treasure of Baghdad blog.
From Zeyad:
As the exchange became more intense, there was a scream of “Allahu Akbar!” followed by four consecutive gunshots that pierced our still street. I had ducked instinctively, but in a split-second I was running downstairs and outside, wearing just my shorts and flannel. A car screeched away, and my immediate thought was that a friend or a neighbor was either shot or kidnapped. The street was dark and almost deserted; storeowners were hurriedly locking their stores, while others pointed to a spot across the street from where I was standing. I saw a guy, who is a bit mentally challenged, and who works with the local generator owner, pacing around in circles and muttering “Abu Hassan, Abu Hassan, Abu…” Abu Hassan is the generator owner. I had a vague notion of what might have taken place, but I hoped I was wrong. I found myself rushing across to the spot that people were still pointing at. There was indeed a body, lying face down in a pool of blood. It was Abu Hassan. I crouched next to him and tried to check his pulse, but my hands were shaking and I couldn’t feel a thing. His neck was still warm and moist with sweat. Some familiar faces from the area cautiously approached me. “Is he still alive?” they asked. “I don’t know. I don’t know,” I nervously shot back. “But do something. Take him to the hospital. Now.”
They tried to find a car, but it seemed that no one wanted anything to do with it, or were trying to make excuses. Someone stopped a taxi but the driver said no when he saw the corpse. I was still next to Abu Hassan’s body, trying to make sense of what just happened. Even now, when I try to remember those traumatic moments, I get a hazy picture, as if the whole incident was taking place in a dream, and that I would suddenly wake up and go out to find Abu Hassan in his mechanic’s overall, smiling under his big gray moustache as he poured oil into the generator.
From Chickitita:
To me the night the Iraqi commandos raided my house was the most horrific of the lot. The way they stormed into my room caused me a lifelong phobia of anyone in khaki, camouflage or any type of military uniform and any machinegun that looks exactly like the ones they pointed at my family and me. The sight of them makes my heart pound so fast, my tummy hurt, my whole body shake and my mouth parch. The sound of mum's pleas to those horrible thugs to leave step dad alone and have mercy on him is still echoing in my ears. And the way he was dragged to their vehicles bound and scared with eyes downcast trying to assure us all that he will be back soon is still haunting me. After 12 hours of detention and humiliation, step dad was back home baffled, tired and unable to say a word, and to this day he has no idea why he was taken in the first place.
The following is from
Sunshine, a 14 year old girl in Mosul. This happened last week!
A bullet entered his leg, he fell down on the floor , my grandma went inside the house to call his family , no one was in the street , I got panicked and started to cry and shake hysterically, I ran and brought handkerchiefs , and started to put them on his leg , he was bleeding , the driver came to drive me to school , I told him to wait , I put my bag in the car and ran back to my injured neighbor , I went to bring my mom I was out of breath , and couldn't talk , I was terrified " I was , a man , a bullet , the car , blood , neighbor , bandage , cotton, come please " I couldn't create a sentence , she didn't understand me but she came and brought medical cotton and bandage with her , she ran wearing her pajamas ! anyway she tied his leg so hard , to stop the bleeding , and I kept crying shaking and spreading so many handkerchiefs on the floor to cover the blood, I don’t know why !. Then his wife , kids , brothers , sisters , cousins , and nephews came running toward our house , and one of his relatives took him to the hospital by his car , I went to school , and kept crying all the way long , and when I reached there , I was shaking so badly, even the teachers were worried about me , my mom called the headmistress and told her what happened , when I arrived school the headmistress asked me to sit in her room, the teachers were around me , trying to calm me down , after an hour I stopped shaking , but kept crying , I missed 2 classes and did so bad in geography exam , I wrote " the running winds" , and I did very silly mistakes ..
"R" my dearest friend came while I was in the headmistress room, she was crying and shaking too, a mine exploded in front of their car , !!!! the car's windows were broken , then US soldiers started to shoot their car !. Then our friend "Sh" came crying , because she heard about me and "R" . Then our teacher Mrs. E came to the headmistress with tears in her eyes because her aunt died. Then Mrs. S she is another teacher came and said quickly "excuse me, I have to go, 3 of my neighbors were killed". At last Mrs. "A" came and said "did you know about the Arabic teacher, her nephew was killed". Suddenly the headmistress fell down , we ran to her desk to see what happened , she fainted because of all what was going on in her room ,as well as she was tired from taking care of her sick mother ,and from being awake all the night. so many events , and so many bad news … After I calmed down I went to the class , I was trying to understand what happened , I was hoping that it is just a nightmare , but unfortunately it was true , horrible but true , this is my life. No one should go through that , but what can I do except praying and hoping that we will remain alive. I've seen so many views in TV., In movies and news channels , but is different and scary too see that on real.. My life is turning from worse to worst .
The following is from
HNK, another teenage girl in Mosul:
With tears and emotions we have to say Good bye for the people we love,even we don't want to leave each others...We have to say good bye... Good bye with no reply but only good bye. "H", My christian friend and one of my best friends. I don't know what to say except I think I was lucky to have such a beautiful friend like you...I truly love you from the deep of my heart and I didn't know that I loved you that much.I thought that my friend are the same, And I didn't think that I love one from them more than the other. But Today I found out that I was wrong. "H" was special. I can't remember that she hurt me someday or said something bother me. She was quite and silent. to better or worse this life will lead us I don't know, But I swear by the name of God I will never forget you my sister... It's the life who judged to us to suffer and separated. Who was thinking that you will leave.. Leave me , leave Iraq and leave your past life and everything. I don't know what to say. but I know that today I see my friend for the last time and only God know if I will see her another time or not. She and her family are leaving to Syria for the moment and then they are going to move to Canada. They received a threat and they have to leave Iraq. I know it's better for them to leave but ..... It's my friend.
Finally, the video below is called “Baghdad.... Don't Hurt” and was written for the children of Baghdad. Translation of the Arabic is on the video (and also a commenter posted the translation in the comments). I cannot watch this without tears.
I posted this on Daily Kos earlier in the week.