Life After Curfew

When the curfew was imposed and the repercussions of the bombings of the shrines belied expectations, I was told to brace for the mayhem to come and that it was premature to pin too much hope on fellow Iraqis’ resilience.

Apprehensive of venturing outside the house, I told mum that her dentist appointment could be rescheduled, but she was determined to go and I didn’t want to argue.

Shops at our neighbourhood were all open, though veggie stalls had nothing to hawk but tomatoes and cucumbers, which reflects poor meals but quite a good sign, few days earlier, they were not able to sell a pip.

What I liked the most about running an errand after curfew was the traffic. The 15-minute-trip took us only five minutes. Feels like the old days!

On the trip back home, we dropped by the drugstore and kind of liked what we saw. Baghdadis strangely wore smiles on their faces, I thought I’d never see those again. Shops were bustling. People are reverting to their Iraqi manners, mum noted, referring to a policeman who helped a woman get into a minibus. This too was non-existent few weeks ago.

Mum’s words reminded me of what she once told me, you’ll never know which people are good and which ones are bad until you’re struck by a crippling crisis.




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