Retrospect

Its hard to believe that I was in my soul's land only fourteen days ago.

"Black Gold" somewhere between Baghdad and Basra

I wrote this on the plane flying over Iraq on December 9, the day following the quintuple synchronized explosions that rocked the city and left 150 mother's grieving, and 450 more tending to their wounded loved ones. How many more died of their injuries?

(...) How a group of human beings could choose to blow up hundreds of people is absolutely unbelievable and undefendable. What has happened to my country? How can I ever return after enduring such intense fear? Those who can overcome such fear are strong. I see my family and those around me, with nerves made of steel. They found my state of shock shocking.
I don't believe I have the strength to endure the utter destruction that unfolded in Baghdad on that black day more than once in my life. My people have endured hundreds and expect to endure hundreds more.
This makes me spoiled. And This makes the people of Baghdad a forgotten tribe, forced to fend for themselves.

Forced to Normalize the Abnormal.

On T.V., we watched members of parliament give their "thoughts" about the explosions.
E M P T Y words. Thoughts never stopped innocent people from being murdered on a day-to-day basis. Nor have "thoughts" ever stopped criminals from murdering the innocent.

Abu Ahmed is the name of the man who drove me around Baghdad most of the time I was there. His daughter, Ola, was injured in the blast near AlZawraa. She is in grade 1. All the windows in her school shattered, and she was injured in her head with glass and required stitches.
There are over 1000 students in the school. If they were not injured physically, can you imagine the psychological trauma that they suffered?
Abu Ahmed's daughter told him that she does not want to go to school anymore.

The elementary school is near the Institute of Fine Arts. The target for the bombing.

My cousin was telling me a story.
When her own daughter Nadine was in grade 1, an American rocket hit her school, broke through the roof of her classroom and got wedged into the ceiling fan.
All the students ran out of the classroom with the teacher.
Nadine was left alone in the corner of the classroom, with the unexploded rocket staring down at her head, crying hysterically in a daze.

That day, she too told her mother that she does not want to go to school anymore.

She is in grade 6 now.

Even the children of Iraq are stronger than me.