Baghdad ---- Day One

The vanilla-cheap-chocolate combination of clouds and the same old sandstorms was the first thing of Iraq that said welcome back to me. I was so happy to see the familiar places from above and so looking forwarding to physically taking strolls in them. Last time I checked the time for a non-work, or non-fave-soaps related reason was April 22, 2005, that is when I was waiting for my sister to come back home with her second newborn. This time, I could not wait to see the landing. The screen in front of me read expected arrival time 3:30 but obviously watches freeze when you want them to fly.

Sadly for me, the romantic mental picture of my comeback was marred by the presence of the neighbouring head of state. I was shocked by the fact that I have already agreed with three drivers to pick me up from the airport, but none of them showed up. I didn’t mind taking the risk of any regular cab as long as they take me home, but there was not a single one around. Waiting inside the airport is out of the question. I didn’t know what else to do but follow the crowds. Fellow unlucky passengers rushed to minibuses that are supposed to take them to some checkpoint near the now shabby statue of the first man who attempted to fly with artificial wings, so did I. The congestion was unbearable. Everybody was cursing and sulking and snapping on the phone, so was I.

Ahmedi nejad must be happy to know that he has something in common with Bush, Saddam, Maliki, Talabani et al, he too is in the Iraqis’ most-hated list.

So my prayers were answered; I finally found a cab that could go to my neighbourhood. Yet the way to my once-15-minute-drive-from-the-airport home did not turn out to be as easy as it was. Traffic was at its worst, it was almost 6:00 p.m. and students were still not home, they all seem to have preferred to walk than spend the night in their minibuses. Watching them gave me flashbacks of the Baghdad flood back in the late 1990s, when my colleagues and I were stranded by rain and sewage water on our way home.

The unknown driver did his utmost to drive the two nameless guys and myself to our destinations. He drove on wrong sides, used his connections to I.S.F. men, bowed and scraped for the ones he didn’t know just to let us pass. He was so immersed in finding the easiest shortcuts through bumpy dirt roads that ruined his car but still he found the time to curse Ahmedinejad.

After almost two hours of torment, I made it home in one piece, safe but not mentally sound.

But it was worth it :)