Baghdad ---- First Sleepover

Miraj’s Place --- Mansur

My arrival coincided with my friend Miraj’s roughest day ever; there was a blast on her way to work, claiming a large number of innocent lives, one of the over a dozen explosions celebrating the arrival of Ahmedinejad (nicknamed by Baghdadis as Najat (girl’s name), Najati, Najat As-Saghira (after a famous Egyptian diva) and Najat El-Chalib (Najad the dog). I so wanted to meet her on a homely turf, preferably not mine – it’s so embarrassing to ask friends to come over to my place while my mum is not home; no delicious food to serve, dust is gathering on each and every piece of furniture, floor is only mopped once a fortnight or on special occasions and it’s out of the question for me to waste precious moments in futile attempts to make the house look presentable, knowing that all it needs is mum’s magic touch.

Miraj’s house is only 10-minutes drive. Stepdad offered to give me a ride, I reluctantly agreed; as far as I can remember, checkpoints were more like mouse-traps for men living in our neighbourhood, but he and everybody say “it’s no longer the case.” I was not comfortable all the way through until he rang me to announce that he made a safe return home.

I lived up to my promise to have breakfast with my friend who forced her dad to hunt high and low for my favourite Iraqi traditional cheese – the combination with black tea is soooooo yummy – sadly the poor man couldn’t find any, but I felt like punching Miraj for making him check every shop he knows for my gluttonous majesty’s delight. I don’t usually have two cups of tea in one sitting, but this is once in a lifetime; good company, real tea [not tasteless teabags], and my favourite Iraqi bread.

Mansur is the neighbourhood where I spent a big chunk of my life. Even when my family moved to other areas, I still have this extraordinary affection towards this spot of Baghdad. News reports of bombings in Iraq are heart-wrenching but when Mansur is involved it’s a different story, it’s like my own house has caught fire. Too many lives were lost there, too many women were widowed and too much blood has been spilt on its asphalt. Looking around I couldn’t see any signs of death; ice cream lovers are swarming around Ar-Rwad shop and the whole street was buzzing with life and I could actually see trendy young girls not wearing headscarves, which was the case in my younger days, when women like me were free to choose to wear it as I did, or not wear it as the majority of my friends did.

Miraj insisted on having lunch in the famous Samad Restaurant. I have always hated restaurants and crowded places, but I’m glad I said yes. We hardly found a table for the two of us; it looked as if all Baghdadi families had a rendezvous to reassure me that things are getting better so just shut up and feast your eyes on this new kind of non-violent normalcy. Food was not bad, service was crummy, windows are non-existent, waiters are rude but the whole place was so alive that day.

I blithely submitted to my friend’s pleas for a typical girly sleepover. We had a whale of a time; we watched a Simon Baker movie and wrapped up the night with Disney’s Monsters Inc., both are brilliantly well-made, but had we been in a movie theatre, we’d be shushed and kicked out in no time!

We made plans to go for a shopping spree for the next day. We’re lucky for the talkative cab driver, who also added up to the shots of hope and optimism in the air. “I just came from Jamia neighbourhood,” he said, “displaced families are getting back to their homes, more shops are open [I saw that too], I am a Shia and drove all the way to the furthest point in [the former predominantly Sunni land of bogymen].” I was silent almost all the time for two reasons; I was busy jotting down notes in my mind and deep, deep down I still have those superstitions that too much hope almost always wind up in frustration. Mind you, I have given up on my people’s awakening. This cab driver says things are normal, in other words Shias and Sunnis have woken up and are now tired of bloodletting. I have never stopped praying for peace and prosperity in my country, but I just cannot bring myself to pin any hopes on early upbeat signs, but I want to wait to see the end whether countrymen would put their petty differences aside once and for all and be united like Kenya McQueen and Brian Kelly and come up with optimum solutions like Boo and Sully.