Saddam Archive - Let me tell you

Renaming the sunflower

Veröffentlicht am 3. September 20233. September 2023 von RanaSchreib einen Kommentar

To begin my story, you need to know that in Iraq we call the sunflower “Abbad Al-Shams.” Translated to English it means “sun worshiper.”
We ate Abbad Al-Shams seeds, and we used its oil for cooking. We studied the fields of these flowers in Geography, and we learned how to grow them in our gardening classes.
We had no other name for the yellow beauties that bent their heads towards the sun as if they were worshiping it until the day the name has been changed by a presidential decree.

It was after the war of 1991 and during the times of the embargo, poverty, and mass depression when a meeting was broadcasted on TV.
The recording showed the former president Saddam Husain receiving a group of people, mostly men. I do not remember if his guests were representatives from the agricultural or religious field, or maybe they were members of the Revolutionary Command Council.

Anyway, they talked, and their conversation went from politics to religion and ended up with the sunflower.
“Abbad Al-Shams, what a name!” The president said to his fellows.
“Only God can be worshipped, right?”
The guests agreed by clapping and were very enthusiastic about his remark. They continued discussing this topic as if it was the only problem left in Iraq to be solved.

At the end of this meeting, the sun worshiper lost its name and was renamed to “Zahrat Al Shams” (translated to English “sun flower”).

If this event was observed alone, it could have been funny. To see so many important men in suits and uniforms discussing the “sinful” name of a yellow flower and releasing a decree to rename it.

Now, when I look back and see the big picture, I know that it was not a random event. It was one of many actions set by the government after 1991 to drive the Iraqi society into extreme religiosity.

In Iraq, a country that is the home of more than 5 religions, divided into several confessional groups, religion in the wrong hands is a dangerous weapon.

Keeping the people obedient by connecting the love and fear of God with the submissiveness to the leaders is a path that all Iraqi governments followed and are still following since then.

The Hero

Veröffentlicht am 10. Juni 202025. Januar 2023 von RanaSchreib einen Kommentar

First his pictures filled the newspapers and finally he was there, on TV, when his investiture was broadcasted. An inconspicuous man sitting proudly beside Saddam Hussein, the president of Iraq back then.

The recording started with a small crowd clapping and praising the president entering the beautiful hall, which usually hosted the awarding ceremonies of high ranked politicians and military officers. Hussein greeted his guests with thanking words and a big smile on his face.

Saddam Hussein walked to the hero of the newspapers with a second degreed Al-Refidayn medal in his hands and placed it around the old man’s neck, while saying his famous “afiya, afiya” to express his appreciation for the braveness of the old man and his „endless love for Iraq“. The flashlights were raining over them to catching this historical moment. The crowd, mainly consisting of the old man’s family, started clapping and shouting out prayers and praising slogans.

When the president sat down and the guests also took their places on the expensive white and gold furniture, the man was asked to tell his story.

He started his speech with the typical phrases of ensuring his loyalty to the president, the country and the military and damming everybody who wants to harm Iraq.
He started talking about his 4 sons. How proud he was, when they were old enough to join the army and fight against the Iranian enemy. His wish was that his sons would „whiten his face“ in front of the world by returning from the battlefield in one of two ways: either in coffins wrapped in the Iraqi flag as martyrs or as glorious heroes waiving the flag of victory.
But unfortunately his oldest son turned out to be a coward. He was afraid to sacrifice his soul for the president and for the country. He ran away from the battlefield to save his own life and left his brothers and mates behind.
He came home to hide from the war fires like a weak dog.
“I was so angry, disappointed and full of shame! Why did he do this to me?
How did he dare turn his back on his duty, to you my dear sir president and to our beloved country? My anger was big. My pain and shame were indescribable. I shouted at him, I threatened him, I warned him but he didn’t listen. I understood then that I have raised a useless citizen, who brought shame over me and my family. I fetched my revolver and went to his room. I told him: you are afraid to be killed? I will shoot you, you betrayer.

And then, Mr. President, I shot him dead. I killed him for the crime of high treason.“

The voices of those who were present rose again praising and clapping.

We were witnessing the honoring of a murderer. A father who killed his unarmed son, only because he refused to fight in a meaningless war, in which the outcomes were the death of more than a million human souls and an extreme damage of the infrastructure and economy on both sides.

I was speechless, exactly as most of the people I knew. We were excellently trained in being speechless. Speaking about the craziness of this act or calling it the honoring of a killer, was just the thick red line we learned never to cross, and we never did.

There are a lot of methods used by ruling regimes to make people submissive. I find killing the morality in a community is one of the worst ways to gain total control.

When I think of this evening, I feel sad that I once have been part of the big silent mass.
Today crimes of parents killing their children (mostly young women) for „shaming the family“ are still happening and still being tolerated by the Iraqi government. In most of these cases the murderers get backed by their families and may even get away without trial or punishment.

Waving to the Lost Presidents

Veröffentlicht am 4. Januar 201724. Januar 2017 von RanaSchreib einen Kommentar

It must have been the 15^th or 16^th of February 1989, when I came to school in the morning, as usual, and immediately noticed that we will not take our lessons that day. There were buses waiting outside the school and a couple of students were standing at the school entrance, telling everybody to drop their school backpacks in the classes and gather in the school yard.

It was obvious that we were going to march on a „spontaneous“ demonstration, as they were called by the media. Well, it was spontaneous, wasn’t it?

Soon, the girls of „Al-Qadissiya Middle School“ filled the school yard, as if it was Thursday morning when we used to gather for the weekly flag ceremony. The principal came out and turned on the microphone. The mic made an earsplitting sound, then she knocked on it twice to split our eardrums even more, and finally she started talking: „ahm, ahhhm, good morning girls! Today is an important day; we will have the honor to welcome three great personalities in Baghdad: the king of Jordan, the president of Egypt and the president of North Yemen. I’m sure you have heard about the upcoming event on TV. They are coming to Iraq to sign an agreement to establish the Arab Cooperation Council.“

She talked a lot about the advantages of this agreement and that it was going to be a historical moment and so on, but I didn’t really listen. It was eight in the morning, time for daydreaming in the first lesson, not standing in the fresh morning breeze to listen to political blah blah.

The really important information to us was when she said: „A lot of the students in Baghdad will celebrate this historical event by lining up on the road sides to welcome the arriving guests. The busses will take us now and we should be back to school at noon!“

Any event that kept us from studying was welcome. We didn’t really mind leaving school. We got into a bus and were taken to the main street that led from the airport to the city center.

The whole road was closed off for traffic. The teachers distributed paper flags of the four countries to us and we took our places on the sandy road bank behind the crash barriers. It was still cold in February but it wasn’t very bad since we stood in the sun. At first, we were chatting all the time and looking at the road, waiting excitedly to see the presidents and the king. But after two hours of waiting, we started to get bored, tired, thirsty and our feet started to ache. Then the rumors started going through the rows of students: „The plane of president Mubarak was delayed.“; „They’ve arrived and took another way.“; „We will stay here till late afternoon.“ and a lot more. I always wondered where such rumors came from. We had no mobile phones at that time, nor a Walkie-Talkie. Nothing could possibly bring this information from the airport to us. Was there someone standing somewhere, saying something and enjoying his words traveling through the masses? I never figured it out and I’m afraid this will stay an unsolved mystery for me.

Anyway, the real trouble was that most of us started to get very thirsty, so a teacher went to a house nearby, rang the bell and asked them for water. A woman came out with a bottle of water and a tray of cups. From almost every house of the neighborhood people came out offering us water, food and even asked if we needed to use the toilet or the phone. These gestures made waiting much easier.

I don’t know how long we waited till the motorcade appeared at last. It was led by many police motorcycles, followed by a lot of black Mercedes cars with the security staff, and in the middle, the car carrying president Saddam Hussein and one of the guests. I think the first was king Husain of Jordan. We waved, clapped and we sure called out some slogans that I don’t remember anymore. When that convoy passed, it was clear that only one guest was going to be escorted at a time, which meant more waiting and standing on the road side for us.

Time passed somehow and we waved for Mubarak, the president of Egypt and for Salih, the president of Northern Yemen. After the last guest arrived, the exhausted mass of students returned to the buses and the road was opened for traffic. When I came home I had blisters on my feet and I was starving.

The next day, pictures of that historical meeting of the three presidents and the king were all over the newspapers. The most popular picture was one on which the four of them are seen holding each other’s’ hands and raising them in the air; a photo, that soon became a symbol for the beginning of a new era of unity and peace in the Arab world. At that moment, no one would have thought, that except for king Husain of Jordan, who lived and died as a king, the rest of the members of the Cooperation Council would fall, one after the other in very unfortunate ways.

The light of hope that was lit in Baghdad on the 16^th of February 1989 didn’t last for long. The work of the Arab Cooperation Council was put on ice after Iraq’s invasion of Kuwait in 1990 and was never resumed again.

Girls‘ Day Out

Veröffentlicht am 21. April 201610. November 2016 von RanaSchreib einen Kommentar

It was the 2nd of August 1990 when the Iraqi troops walked into Kuwait. In my opinion one of the biggest mistakes in modern history; but I don’t want to talk about politics now. What happened, happened and we all had to pay and are still paying the price for that and a lot of other mistakes made by politicians all over the world.
Anyway after that day, things started to change dramatically in Iraq. After the first reaction of the international community that said: It is an internal Arabic matter in which it will not interfere, it was soon clear that if Iraq would not withdraw immediately from Kuwait, a big war was about to happen. As a result, the Iraqi government tried every possible way to keep the occupation of Kuwait and keep the war away. One of this ways was sending the people to the streets to protest against the upcoming war. On television the protests were called: „self-organized spontaneous protests“. In reality, schools and government departments were instructed to send their students and employees to the streets to protest.
While the employees and teachers were not happy at all, having to walk for hours shouting slogans in the street, for us, students, anything other than school, homework and exams was most welcome.
We protested almost everywhere: in front of the American, British, French and Saudi Arabian embassies. I was 15 then and attending the Baghdad high school for girls. A day out for us girls was like a fun school trip. The first row was shouting slogans like: „down, down Bush. Long live Saddam.“ and „Bush, Bush! Listen well. We all love Saddam Hussein.“ and so on, while the back rows were busy talking, making fun of everything and everybody and gossiping. I was usually in the back, talking and laughing while moving with the crowd.
One day, I think it was the last time we went on a demonstration before the war broke out, we were walking in Haifa Street, heading to the British embassy. The street was filled with thousands of people shouting and holding Iraqi flags and slogans. My friends and I, a group of seven girls, were walking as usual at the end of our school group talking and talking when we suddenly noticed that we were not walking with our school anymore. We tried to find our teacher or anybody of our school but we couldn’t find anyone. After running from one group to the other, we finally realized that our school went back with the bus that had brought us in the morning and left us behind. They forgot us! Going back on feet would have taken us at least one and half hour and we had no money with us to take a taxi.
We went to a police officer who was standing there to control the street blockades. We tried to explain what happened. We were all talking at the same time, that it was hard for him to follow our story. He took a deep breath and then shouted: „stop talking, all of you.“ We all shut up. Then he added „who is the class representative?“ Fortunately, my friend was our class representative, so she stepped forward and told him the story. He said „fine I’ll stop a minibus for you. The driver will take you to school free of charge.“ We all said: „But we can’t go with a stranger. What if he kidnapped us?“ First he laughed but then he noticed that we were serious. He told us: „You are seven girls, how can a single man kidnap you? If you start talking, he would immediately throw you out of the car.“ Still we had the warnings of our parents in mind and didn’t want to take the risk. The policemen then said: „don’t worry. I’ll make sure he will take you to school safely.“ He stopped a minibus and told the driver to take us to our school. Then he took the driving license from the driver, wrote a note on a ticket and gave it to my friend, the class representative. He said: „When you arrive at school give this paper to the driver and he can come back to pick up his license.“
At first, the driver looked a little bit surprised and he was not happy to give away his driving license, but then he took it easy. After all we were children between 14 and 15years. On the way back to school he was joking and saying that he shares the opinion of the police officer: „Why would anyone want to kidnap a bunch of loud-talking, crazy girls.“
We got back to school and gave him the paper. We were missing for more than an hour and thought our teachers and colleagues would be looking for us, but when we arrived, the bell announcing the end of the school day was ringing and everyone was leaving. We took our bags from the classroom and left the school building.
No one noticed that we were missing.

From Nebuchadnezzar to Saddam Hussein, Babylon is rising again

Veröffentlicht am 7. Februar 201610. November 2016 von RanaSchreib einen Kommentar

I remember the discussions of the people all over the country, sometime in 1985 or 1986, when former president Saddam Hussein ordered under the slogan: „From Nebuchadnezzar to Saddam Hussein, Babylon is rising again“ to rebuild Babylon. The arguments went from: „He is ruining our history.“ to „Building over the ancient walls is the best way to save them for the future.“

Well, no one asked us anyway and since most of the original Babylonian monuments were standing in museums all over the world, Babylon was for normal people (I mean not archeologists) a sight with more holes than ruins. So when the city was restored, one was able to get a feeling of how mighty Babylon must have been thousands of years ago. Moreover it offered a wonderful scene for an international festival, like the ones we knew from Verona in Italy and Jerash in Jordan.

This festival was the biggest cultural event in Iraq. Artistic groups, singers and musicians from different nationalities were invited to show their acts on one of three historic theatres in the ancient city.
Since the festival started in 1987, we used to go to see at least two shows every year. We saw Italian Operas, like: Le nozze di Figaro, la traviata and Il barbiere di Siviglia, breathtaking Russian ballet: the 12th night and 1001 nights as well as colorful and loud Spanish flamenco group shows. In 1992 we even had the chance to attend Kazem Al-Saher’s concert, who was and still is the most popular Iraqi and Arab singer.

We never had the chance to see the opening nor the closing ceremony because the tickets were only for invited guests. That’s why I was very excited when our Austrian friend, gave us four invitations for the closing ceremony because she and her group had to go back to Austria earlier than expected.
Although our car was in service and there was no one else who could take us, my mother, my two friends and I decided to go. The friend who gave us the tickets said that she had read on the leaflet they handed her out, that there were shuttle busses taking the foreign guests from the Al-Mansour Melia hotel to Babylon.
As we arrived at Al-Mansour Melia hotel on the morning of the closing ceremony, the lobby was full with people from all nations, the hotel staff and security staff.

We asked at the reception for the shuttle bus going to Babylon and it seemed to be a big puzzle. The receptionist went to ask another lady at the reception and then she went to the back office and came out in the company of a young man, who asked my mother what exactly she meant by a shuttle bus and who gave her this information. At last we ended up at a desk of a security officer, who had a badge with the text: „In charge of the delegations“ on it. The lady who took us to him, told him: „this foreign lady and her three daughters want to take a bus to Babylon. They have invitations for today’s evening show.“

The man looked at us with a big smile and said: „Who told you that we have busses going to Babylon?“ My mother explained to him how we got the tickets and who told us about the bus. „Well“ he said „We have busses for the delegations but not for locals. Each bus is dedicated to a group and has a translator and a security office on board. You cannot go with them.“

When he ended the last sentence, he saw our disappointed faces and I think he felt sorry for us. So he added: „but I’ll arrange for you to go with the bus of the Iraqi TV staff.“ He called one of the security men standing close by and talked to him. We thanked him and followed the man, he just instructed, to the bus. He told the driver: „Take the foreign lady and her three daughters with you.“ We accepted that they thought we were sisters and didn’t bother to explain.
At last we were on the bus in the parking of the hotel. The bus was almost empty but slowly it got filled with the TV staff. Cameramen, sound technicians and 2 TV-hosts we knew from the daily news.

While we were waiting in the Bus, something wonderful and unexpected happened. A Silver Mercedes drove into the parking, stopped near the bus and out came Kazem Al-Saher. It was him! the most popular Arab singer, standing just a few meters from us. My friends and I ran out of the bus saying to each other: „It’s Kazem! it’s really him!“ I don’t know which one of us had the paper and the pen in her bag but we went to him and shook his hand. We introduced ourselves and asked him for an autograph. He was very nice and welcoming and wrote a personal autograph for each one of us. Years later I was silly enough to give my very personal autograph to a relative of mine. She was crazy about Kazem Al-Saher, but today I really regret it.
Full with joy, we got back on the bus and waited for it to move. Shortly before the bus started, a man we saw in the lobby before, jumped in and sat near the driver.

We had a good time on the bus. We laughed a lot and enjoyed listening to the stories of the TV staff.

One of the TV hosts was saying to the man sitting near him: „The singer who sang yesterday in Babylon was very stupid“

The other one asked: „Why? I like Basim.“

„I like his songs too, but he was on the stage and told the people: „I’ll sing a new song.“ and when the music started and the people began clapping he said: „sing, sing.“ holding the microphone to the audience. How can they sing if the song was a new song?“ they burst into laughter.

Listening to such stories, the hour and fifteen minutes we needed to arrive to Babylon went by very fast.
We reached the parking of the city. We memorized the place of the bus so we can find it when we got back and started our way to the arena.

The sun was still shining on the ancient city. There was one color dominating the scene. Except for the turquoise replica of the Ishtar Gate and some palm trees, everything had the color of the yellow sand. The ground, the buildings and even the pale blue sky was covered by a sand veil.

After the security check we entered the big theater. I couldn’t see anyone from the people who were with us on the bus, except that man who came in shortly before we left. He sat a few rows behind us.

When it got dark the show finally started. First we had to listen to some speeches of the minister of culture and information, the organizer of the festival and some personalities I don’t remember anymore. After that boring part, the final show finally began. It was a colorful fashion show by the Iraqi house of fashion. The show took us through the history of Iraq and Iraqi fashion. It started with the imaginative wedding of the Tigris and the Euphrates and moved through ages. The stage was full of lovely men and female models in stunning, colorful costumes. Joined by the sound of two speakers, a man and a woman, who told the story in Arabic and in English with music, light and sound effects.

The whole arena, holding thousands of people, was silent; everyone was caught up in the magical world on the stage and then, suddenly, when the show reached the Akkadian Empire, something exploded on the stage. We heard a loud blast that almost damaged our ears, some pieces went through the air and the smell of gunpowder and a dark smoke cloud filled the arena.

When the cloud was almost gone, we were able to see again. We saw that there was a hole in the middle of the stage. The artists were gone, the minister was standing surrounded by security and bodyguards and an incredible number of security officers were standing all over the theater, as if they came out of the ground. No one made a sound; only the security officers were moving and talking. Then fifteen minutes later the minister sat down again and the security officers started to disappear. The music started again and four men models came out carrying a big white piece of cloth, with which they covered the hole in the stage and the show went on. Nothing reminded of the explosion, except that the models had to change the path and walk on the side of the stage instead of the middle to avoid falling into the hole.
It wasn’t till the next day that we got to know what happened. It was a problem with the pyrotechnics effects, and sadly one of the pyrotechnicians lost his arm while we were enjoying the show.

The show reached the end with the fashion of the current time, a big firework and a song in praise of Iraq and the government.

It was almost eleven thirty when we left the arena. The show was very nice but the explosion left a bad feeling that we couldn’t ignore. We went to the parking to take our bus but when we tried to get in, the driver told us: „sorry, you can’t come back with me. I’m taking the Russian delegation back.“

My mother told him: „This must be a joke. You can’t leave us here! How are we going to go back?“

The driver made it clear that it was our problem and it didn’t concern him. He just added: „I’m not allowed to take anyone except the Russians.“

The bus left and we were standing in the parking like a herd of lost sheep. We didn’t have a plan. Suddenly the man who was with us on the bus, the last one that joined us, came and said: „Oh good, I found you. I was looking for you. I lost you when you left the theater. Follow me.“

We were really happy to see a familiar face and we had no better option than to follow him. He took us to an old bus and asked us to get on it. He sat in the front and we took the empty places in the middle. Most of the people on the bus were young men but there were also two women with maybe two or three children, who were sleeping. I still don’t know if they were in Babylon to watch the show or if they were employees who worked for the festival. When we reached Baghdad, the man came back to us and asked my mother about our address. He went to the driver and talked to him and then came back to us again and said: „The driver will take you to your house.“ Then he smiled and said: „You know you gave me a hard time today. At the hotel my boss told me ‘Keep your eyes on the foreign lady and her three daughters and don’t leave them unless you are sure they get home safe.’ He worried about you. I’m so happy my duty is over. This morning I didn’t think I’ll be spending my day in Babylon watching the closing ceremony. I wish you a good night.“

We were surprised, touched and grateful that this man spent most of his day looking after us and at the end even saved us from a very bad situation. We thanked him a lot and left the bus.
The next day I wrote down all what happened on that special day because I didn’t want to forget anything. It was the first, and I’m sure, last time in my life that I had an almost personal security guard.