Dictatorship from a Cherry Point of View

I am hearing now Tchaikovsky Symphony No. 6. I want to write about that novel, Herztier. Herztier, as it is entitled originally in German, "The Land of Green Plums" as it is entitled in its English version. Its Arabic version is entitled: "The Animal of the Heart". Herta Muller said that the novel was written "in memory of my Romanian friends who were killed under Ceaucescu regime."

"And when all are asleep, the winds sleep in the trees." P.42

I took the Arabic version with me to my worksite and I had no white empty paper to write the notes but the last edition of "Tatoo", a monthly Iraqi newspaper specialized in art.

Before I went to the room that I share with two other companions I bought cherry. I didn't know that the word cherry will repeat itself so much in the novel. I might have a faint unconscious allure to a link to the word: "plum". I even had called Herta once, in a day dream: "my plum".

"Dead people don't need the barber, don't need to cut their nails, and don't lose buttons." P15

Cutting the hair is a repetitive happening in the novel. Losing bottoms too. As if the protagonists as astonished that their bodies are still, having some kind of life, in it. In page 164 of the Arabic edition the writer wrote: "It would be nice if love grows like grass."

The protagonist is the only unnamed person in the novel. We know early in the novel that she is a female. Her father was a soldier in SS. He is proud of his history. After the suicide of a student, the protagonist found three men (Edgar, Kurt, and George) interested to know more about what happened. They had a secret place where they hide books. They write poetry. The protagonist started to spend time with them. All the four were eager to leave Romania. The protagonist did leave Romania to Germany in page 160 in the Arabic edition. She kept writing about her memory. The most memory that was stuck in my mind was how the Chief Bele asked her to took her clothes off and then to sing a national anthem. 

The protagonist wrote about her memory of the days that comes after the suicide of Lola when they were clapping the hands after the head of the school told them that Lola's deed was a shame and that she would be not regarded anymore worthy to be as a part of the communist party. The clapping started to wane after few seconds but few students kept applauding. Those who stopped thought that they should start again clapping so that the sound will rise again and that what did happen.

I remembered when I was reading those lines how we, as students in school, were under the obligation of clapping our hands furiously every time the name of Saddam Hussein is mentioned. I remembered Nasif Falaq novel "Khidr-Qad and the Olive-colored Era".   

I am still hearing Tchaikovsky Symphony No. 6 and it is getting little… a little noisy.

I will keep the volume high while just mentioning that long Iranian film named "Taste of Cherry". The protagonist was trying to find somebody helping him in his suicide. He found that old man at last who he, himself, had tried to suicide before. The old man told him the story and how it was hard to tie a robe on a tree so he decided to climb it and when he was there, in the tree, trying to tie the robe so that he can suicide, his hand catched, by accident a cherry. 

He ate one. Then two. Then three. Then children came and asked him to shake the tree for them. And that was enough for him to quit his plan. When his wife woke up that morning she was surprised with a dish full of cherries.

These are the kind of stories that you can expect from area like, Iraq, Iran, and Romania.   

It was 20 minutes since I have started hearing Tchaikovsky's symphony no. 6, and now the second part had started. It is an allegro. One of the most beautiful melodies that I have ever heard. 

Another Journals' Diary in Baghdad

Ibtihal Belaibil wrote today about the sudden happy news she received that morning in the journal: a journey, for herself alone, to Switzerland. She spent the day happily till the boss of the journal summoned her to his office and told her that that was a lie, the lie of the first of April. She wrote about that an article in today's Al-Sabah issue, and included a picture of a plane that belong to the Iraqi Airlines. 

Ali Daneef, on his part, wrote about that soldier who knew the names of his 99 grandparents (his father, his grand-father, the father of his grandfather and so on). Ali Daneefs remember that soldier who persuaded them at the military unit in the vital importance of knowing the names of at least the first 7 grandfathers.  

 In today's article, Ali Daneef declared that he no longer see it necessarily to know all those names, a human should be respected for his-self. Next to Ali Daneef's article was a picture from Germany, an apple tree with 10,000 colored eggs, as a celebration of a Christian holy day that I remember participating once in Baghdad in my childhood.

 In the same page, the last page, my favorite, was a photo of Tim Sorrier and one of his paintings.

 Khudair Mery is continuing his wonderful articles. Today he wrote about the experimental Arabic novels. I have read no one of those that he mentioned. I will keep his article in my archive as I always do with his articles.

 "Hasta La Vista Kapitalista" was in the front cover. I really forgot what is about but I liked so much that girl who held that pancarte.

 BB was on Al-Mada's cover.

 Hani Fahas was in the inside of Al-Mada. There was an article about another book written by him about his memories.

 As I reached home and saw that the internet service is available I decided to show you the newspapers of today and few pictures from the last week's papers.

 Baider Al-Basri has won the title of "The Voice of Religions". She is an Iraqi singer. I never heard of her before.

 From Romania, a bride wore the longest wedding dress in history.

 Romania, had offered me a novel of Herta Muller. A novel that was translated to English under the title of "Passport" but to Arabic under the title of "I Wished I Had Not Met Myself Today". The novel is about the Communist Party in Romania under Ceaucescu. The novel is long, and talks about trivial daily things, in a country that reminded me of mine, under Saddam.

 The newspaper seller had loaned me his personal copy of "God Thieves" the latest book of Abdul-Razaq Al-Jubran. From the book, I will never forget that line which states: "The prophet is not a poppet under the hands of the inspiration (of God)".

Mohammad Ghazi Al-Akras had written in yesterday's issue of Al-Sabah a lovely article about a poor Iraqi sweeper who loves his work. He wrote about those poor manual workers who sings while working. A very lovely and clever article as it is usual with Al-Akrass articles. Next to his article was a picture from Eastern Europe (Bulgaria maybe) showing that day when they celebrate by throwing water on each others. 

I don't know how to end this post but if you were next to me, I would bring a glass of water and through the water on you and giggle. Have a nice day dear friends. Thank you for Al-Sabah and Al-Mada writers. You are all wonderful.