To Bridge Or Not To Bridge, this is Victoria

Holako made the first bridge in Baghdad from the books he took from its libraries and threw them in Tigris which was colored with ink. Till the start of the 20th century there seem to be no bridge in Baghdad. It seems that bridges remembered the Baghdadies back then of Holako. Before the 20s century people in Baghdad were crossing to the other side of Tigris using Al Quffa, a circular boat, like in the picture above.



At the start of the 20th century Baghdadis started to make boats floating next to each other, the put longitudinal woods over them and the first simple made bridges were made. I wonder how the early Baghdadis back then saw these bridges. They were regarded as unbelievably huge and great. I cannot be sure how they looked in their eyes but this is how they look to our modern eye:

I've seen the bridge and the bridge is long

And they built it high and they built it strong

Strong enough to hold the weight of time

Long enough to leave some of us behind

So when Victoria saw this bridge she thought it is high and strong and she started thinking about suicide for the first 78 pages of the novel entitled by her name and written by Sami Michael that novelist born in Baghdad in a Jewish family to leave Baghdad in the 40s and go to Israel to keep writing his novels and he was the one who translated Najeeb Mahfooth’s novels to Hebrew. You can easily know that he got a degree in psychology from his narration which is full of symbols, psychodynamic symbols. I like how he concentrates on the body language. He would write that Toya put her thumb in her mouth when she saw Rafael, or how the family lit the candles before it is dark at that day when the flood started in Baghdad making the sorrow and fear more intense. The characters have clear fixed traits and each one stands tall as living individual in front of you while you read the novel. They are vivid to a degree that you can imagine what he or she would do when this or that happens. He never forgets to make me laugh or smile at the appropriate time. He is the kind of a novelist that I like, that I hope I can be someday.

So it was 78 pages of Victoria walking along the bridge and thinking about her life and its worth. She would think of suicide for a while then remembers something and the narration takes you in a wave. This is maybe how the bridge looked like in Victoria's eyes back then:

Standing on the bridge looking at the waves

Seen so many jump, never seen one saved

On a distant beach your song can die

On a bitter wind, on a cruel tide

The first 78 pages I just finished is talking about what how the life of Victoria came into her mind while she was planning to throw her body into the mad water as there was a wild wind that day. As she wanted to end her life she remembered her childhood and the words came as water taking us to a house of a Baghdadi Jewish family living in the early years of 20th century. They were a crowded family and their dynamics were so vividly drawn by that expert writer in my mind. He made me even imagine the walls of their big old house. Even the smell. Najeya who prefers to wear her unclean clothes, Azeza and her malice, Izra and his stubborn religiosity and thick beard, and the poor sensitive soul of Victoria among many others.

And the bridge it shines

Oh cold hard iron

Saying come and risk it all

Or die trying

Baghdad got 12 bridges now I think. And she is still not happy with them. They misbehave. That old one, al Sarrafya, which was the longest in the world at its time, is no more carrying the trains with their loud whistles. Al Ahrar (free people) bridge seems trapped between ugly buildings and car crowds, and the others have military check points that made the cars stops in the hot weather and their horns would inter your skull and teach you the concept of headache at its highest tension mixed with hotness.

And every one of us has to face that day

Do you cross the bridge or do you fade away

And every one of us that ever came to play

Has to cross the bridge or fade away

I was worried as I was reading the novel about the fate of Victoria till I reached the middle of chapter seven, page 78, when she quit her plan to suicide and she aimed to go back home. I decided that I should stop reading now and told you about this magnifisant novel, “Victoria”, written in Hebrew by Sami Michael, translated to Arabic by Raja’a Naqqash.

The words in italic rosy font are the lyrics of elton John's song the Bridge which seems to talk about the Golden Gate Bridge, the most site in the world that witnessed suicides, pictured above as the old Baghdadi bridge in Victoria's eyes.

When on the Highs there was no Sky

There is a book I see every now and then named “inventing Iraq”. The cover contains something like a war scene. There was something British in the cover but I cannot remember what it is now. And I got a friend with a big belly who said once: “Iraq is a wrong name, it is the wrong Arabic utterance of the word Iran, it is Iran where it came from, it is the origin”. An Arabic journalist asked Mithal Al Alusi once: “have I heard you saying the Iraqi Nation? Is there an Iraqi nation?”

After I have seen all that I wanted to go more into the original neglected part of Babel. The area was empty. With some fear in my heart I walked slowly into that area. I saw holes in the old walls, I thought about snakes. I thought about how far the medical clinic is from me. I stopped, changed my way into another area which was as old as the first but less frightening.
And in a matter of seconds I was next to Marduk.

Now that I am writing about that visit to Babel, I remembered my first experiences in Hilla. It is the Enuma Elish.

I was a young doctor & he was a worried old father. He seemed not willing to give me details of the medical history of his daughter who was suffering from a deliberating disease threatening her life. He seemed hopeless. He sat on the other side of the table and he did not make any real eye to eye contact with me. His mind was thinking away. I thought I would support him a little by talking about something else than the medical history of his daughter back at that moment. I cannot remember what I said back then that made him answer me little more lively than before with something like: “yes, our heritage is something big, we made the first creation myth!” I asked: “you mean Enuma Elish?”

His lower jaw hanged down open while he gave me the first real eye to eye contact saying in a low voice: “how can you remember its name? How come you know it?”
“I know it!” I said proudly with a victory smile.
“How come that name came to your mind so easily?” he asked seriously without any smile. He was little agitated.
I thought back then he was suspecting that I can understand the old Babylonia language. And if I do so then I might be from a religious minority still living and talking their old language. I felt annoyed a little by his insisting question. I succeeded in diverting the conversation to something else. After few minutes he started to tell me more confidently about his daughter and her suffering. His daughter succeeded in doing better after few days.



Before there was earth and sky, there was no human living, there were so many gods and goddesses, and there was chaos. Tiamat was a goddess with certain power she seemed to like that chaos and she wanted it to continue. Marduk defeated Tiamat and her dragons of chaos, and thereby gained supreme power. He started to have the names (and hence abilities) of the other gods and goddesses.

His name was Ahmed. He was a new doctor who prefers to stay silent in his room that he shares with other three doctors. He greeted me and went back to his bed next to the window to let his eyes fly free. One of the doctors was talking to me about something I can not remember and said while looking at Ahmed: “I swear by Hammurabi what I have said is true”.

The doctors all started laughing while Ahmed smiled at us. I understood that he was talking to them about Hammurabi and they found that very strange and funny. Ahmed joined us silently at our dinner in the house of doctors. I asked him: “So, Ahmed, if you can tell me how Enuma Elish starts I would be your friend”. He was shocked, stopped eating, widened his eyes and then looked at his dish again.

I gave him enough time to answer. He looked at me as if asking: "do you know it yourself?" I whispered to him: “When on the highs there was no sky”. And our hearts met.

And when on the highs there was no sky my friends, Iraq was already there.

Free Association (He’s Me Pal)

Back then we had only two T.V. channels and they were BORRRing so we had a video and few tapes. We used to record some films and watch them again and again. E.T. and the moppet show and some songs were the mixture that made me laugh and comment: “E.T. phone home!! No he says it like this EE TEE PHAN HAAM”. The starting music of the moppet show was something that altered my taste to music. Seeing a movie was a noisy happy experience for me. But when Rain Man was shown for the first time in the 80s, and I succeeded in recording most of it apart from its first 1 or 2 minutes, I learned how to watch a movie in silence. I didn’t know Dustin Hoffman back then and I thought that the HERO was Tom Cruise. I loved his sun glasses and his hair. I wanted to be like him. But when I saw Cramer Vs Cramer I was shocked to see that man, same man, Rain Man, acting as a normal man. I knew that Dustin Hoffman is not abnormal “that was how I call Autism”. So all Rain Man was just acting? Was not true? How can he act like that? Every time I see Rain Man again I get amazed by how he can imitate Autism. Oh God, he is really an actor. He knows how to wear a personality. He is not naked at all that man. Have you seen his black rain coat and black and white hair lately in “last time Harvey”? I wanna be like that.



















Seen her? Knew her? Look again.


























Yes she is Meryl Streep. Her film “falling in love” was the first time I saw her in my life, and it was the first time to see Robert De Nero also. I was little older when I saw her. I saw that film and recorded it in the 90s, and I fall in love with my fantasies again. And you can imagine may be my day dreams back then. To be lost in the urgency of time running after the metro which would take me to my boring work as a, as…a….. an magazine photo editor, and that woman with that hesitation and that peculiarities of movements, especially when she touched her neck would agree to spend some time with me chatting on a cup of tea while we are both stretching the time into an Arabic thousand seconds and a second….

I have seen many films of Meryl Streep and lately I felt that she is repeating herself. Well, I was deluded.

Yesterday I saw her film with Jack Nicolson, a film talking about really lost people, what was the name of the film? IRONWEED, but I don’t know really what the name means. What interested me in the film was her acting. She is not the Meryl Streep I was deluded about, she was the real creative wonderful amazing Meryl Streep with her front teeth caries and a strong voice while she sang to me “He’s Me Pal”.

Lightening

"I see no light at the end of the tunnel" I heard that for the first time in the 80s when I was watching in the T.V. a Palestinian leader talking about his negotiation with the Israeli leaders. I asked my father back then what that means. He said it means no hope.
I heard that same thing "I see no light at the end of the tunnel" when I was watching T.V. in Baghdad in 2006 when an Iraqi politician was talking about his negotiation with other Iraqis. I felt really hopeless and frightened.
I went today to central Baghdad just for a walk not knowing what was waiting for me.
The first thing I saw was that the old library of Al Fulfuli (I think it was founded in 1908 or something like that) is selling old pictures of Baghdad and Iraq in black and white. A man holding his daughter in his arms was buying.

Al Mada institution was running a symposium on that well known Iraqi archeologist Taha Bakir who was a teacher in Al Hilla, his city of origin.

In al Mada beautiful library I saw people gathering to hear the lecture of one of Taha Bakir's colleagues.

He was talking about the first revelations of Sumerian heritage with Taha Bakir who was a pioneer in translating the Sumerian language and writings. He has many books but the book that you can find easily every here and there is his famous translation for the Epic of Gilgamesh.

The hall was so crowded and it was little hot and I started sweating profusely. I heard part of the lecture and went out to see the river.

I saw a crowd of old and young men gathering around a Santoor (=old Iraqi musical instrument dating back to the Sumerian era) and they were playing and singing old songs.

Tarik Harb approached. He started to talk about Cleopatra because the song was about Cleopatra. It was an Egyptian song performed for the first time by Mohamed Abdul Wahhab.

By the side of the river there was a young man reading poetry to a bunch of people. His sound was calm and sweat but I could not get what he was saying because I was little far.

When I started to leave, I saw big light at the end of the tunnel inviting me to embrace Baghdad and play an original piece of music for her.

seven

I reached the procession street. The street of old Babel where they were making their celebrations and rituals. Then I reached the palace.

Wall after wall, gate after gate, I passed into the dazzling corners of Nebuchadnezzar's southern palace.
Seven walls to embrace 5 squares. Seven gates Ishtar passed to visit the underworld.

in every gate, Ishtar would take off something she wore. She asked the guardians of the gates why she should do that the myth say. They answered to reveal the truth.

When I passed the last gate, I found Saddam's palace above a hill. They say under his regime, he ordered to renew the buildings of Babel and to put his name on the bricks.

Were all these buildings real?
I saw dead palms.
I felt sad.

I felt disappointed but when I came closer to Saddam's palace and I saw many young people walking happily in its gardens I remembered how much people of Hilla are practical, they made it a hotel. Wow.

I hope that new palms will be planted here.

Eros and Thanatos

War is like love, it always find a way.
Bertolt Brecht (1898 – 1956)

In a French film of Claude Chabrol I forgot its name but it was about Hiroshima, a love story between a French man and a Japanese woman started with the time of war. They were both married. Both separated from their families. Forced to spend some time together to pass the dark moments of war they fall in love. When the war ends and they started to leave each other he asked her:

- Would it be possible that we meet again?
- Only if another war starts. She answered. And the film ended.

I asked someone who saw the film with me, what is the relation of War and Love? He answered: in wars we get rid for a while from our commitments, feel little free, a love story may find its nest in our frightened little hearts.
Is war a stress that affects our psychic development causing us to regress to an earlier stage of development? Make us more nostalgic to our safe mother's womb? Does it uncover the hidden in our psych? Take off the persona (=mask) from our feigned social personalities?
Questions I never sure of their answers but the Sumerians chose a Goddess, Inana, to be called later Ishtar, as the Goddess of love and war.

Celebrate the most monstrous Goddess
Ishtar who covers her body with glee and wears love
She wore lust and love
She is filled with life and kindness and seductive to desire
Ishtar wore lust and love
In her lips lies honey and the life is in her mouth
When she comes happiness become completed
And she is wonderful if she wore a veil
Her shape is beautiful, her eyes are glistening
Destiny is brought to everything she holds with her hands
Rich in desire, sexual delight and lovers pleasure
Who is as great as she? Who?
Her orders never shake, awesome filled with radiation
Ishtar is special among other Gods
Her order is the reign
All humans are dread of her
From all the women's name, her name is the only one
from Stephan, F. J.; Hymn to Ishtar, (James, B. Prichard (ed.), Ancient Near Eastern Text), 1969.

Ishtar. Seems familial to you? Its Sumerian name is Inana. It is a name for a planet called nowadays Venus. Its worship extended from Iraq to the Mediterranean areas.
Because the Babylonians loved the study of stars and planets they chose a planet or a star for each of their Gods and Goddesses. Venus was Ishtar. The moon was her father "Seen". The word Ishtar means in the Akkadian language as: "the star which appears before aurora, before dawn". Her older name, the Sumerian name Inana, means literally "the Lady of the Sky".
The Goddess Ishtar passed in different stages: she was a teenager once longing for a husband, then a wife more confident in herself, and finally the widow which is the most important of her phases, in which she lost her husband Dumozi who went to his trip in the underworld.

The original Ishtar gate is in Germany. But here in Babel I found the original context. Everything was speaking to me.

Loneliness of Babel Theatre

I entered into a world of another time. From my very first steps I felt isolated from my place and time. A thrilling lust of what I may find was running on my spines. What I feared the most is that a wild dog may suddenly jump in front of me and started his/her angry defense on his place that I invaded. All I was hearing was sounds of birds.
I found a stairs. I stopped. Took a breath. Went up to see this:



When I finally reached this my heart sank deep into some sorrow when I saw the theatre backstage. I remember seeing the Algerian musical group practicing here their piece of music from Sahara before they would perform their piece at this theatre stage on that same day in the 90s when the security man asked me to leave Babel as soon as possible or he would do something "BAD" to me that would make me regret my intensions. My intensions were that I ask the Algerian group to give me some notes of their music pieces. Or just to talk to them.
But it was prohibited in the previous regime to talk to a non-Iraqi without permission from the regime.
An Algerian violinist came and saluted me. He must have heard what we were saying. He invited me in the backstage. I went and saluted all the musicians and I told them about my love to Algeria and to Sahara music. They told me that they got no notes to give me, and that they play without notes. They asked me to play a piece of Iraqi music for them before their show would start. I played in their Aud the well known Iraqi song "Wif Raghum… Bech chain…(=and their departure… had made me crying…)". I left the backstage wishing them good show. Saw the angry security man who told me to leave Babel at once. I left at once with sorrow.

Seeing the backstage destroyed was better than seeing it living with Saddam's security men. At least the backstage can take the shape it wants. This is an early stage of freedom when some chaos rules the place. Let us just hope that order will come as fast as possible and theatre backstage would be full again of the chaos of artists and not the chaos of neglect.

From that scene my tour continued to see the whole theatre. I didn't know whether to feel sorry or lucky that I was alone at that time. This big theatre which makes me feel tiny.


After leaving the theatre, and leaving my sense of anxiety, that sence which came from that sad annoying memory, and the fear of encountering a wild dog, after leaving all that I looked at the theatre from a distance and felt strange of how much it is neglected. No sign, nor any guide to tell you about its history. But in spite of that, it looks wonderful. Take care of yourself dear theatre. Let the 2 fallen angels of Babel taking care of you too.

Back To Babel

The sky was not clear. It was a mixture of clouds and heavy wind with dust, a mixture enough to convince me of doing some adventure. I was few kilometers away from Babel. A Taxi would take me there in 15 minutes only. Was it logical that I don't try it? The US and the Polish army had left the area of Babel. Was it logical that they chose this area to put their heavy metals on? Iraq is full of empty lands. Why should Babel be a military area for the US or Polish army?

The Iraqi army man welcomed me and showed me the way and gave me the OK to take pictures. I saw a long street in front of me and I walked.

Oleander aroma mixed with a sight of old clay buildings pouring up into my nose to be dissolved in my mind in a way that harmonized by heartbeats up to the fast rhythm of love.


Some buildings were having open doors. Nothing to tell you what this building is. Neither sign nor any tourist guide. You walk and you discover. I interred a building from a back door not knowing whether this is permissible or not.

That made my adventure more thrilling. I was so happy to be so near to this greatness. Can touch it. Can smell it. Even the trees and flowers seem different.

A little by little, the ordinary buildings, the ordinary feelings I got were changing into a magical one. Hypnos, that God, was hypnotizing me. Mesmer, that magnet, was mesmerizing me. My steps were going after my steps. My breathes were getting faster. My eyes was colored with the scenes while tears were evapourizing in an aroma of love. Of belonging. Of nostalgia.