There is a subject matter that we avoid talking about at all cost - Exile.
Every time the subject of Exile comes up, the standard sentence is " What can we do, this is the will of Allah - May God punish those who are responsible... "- subject closed.
One can read a few articles about Iraqi refugees plight and their VERY difficult conditions, but not about their subjective sense and personal experience of Exile.
The other day an Iraqi acquaintance called to wish me a Happy New Year, we chatted for a while and as usual Baghdad came up in the conversation, he said to me:
Please Layla, I have put an X on this subject and on this place, do not re-open wounds...If I ever return, I will be a stranger there, just as I am a stranger here...
This afternoon I went for a long walk and thought about this sentence, deeply...I felt very uneasy thinking about Exile. My mind played tricks on me, trying to divert my attention away, as I felt strong emotions rise inside of me, and wanting to save face and embarrassment in public, I tried very hard containing those tears...
I had to face my reality and come to terms with it. I cannot return to Iraq. I am a stranger here and will be a stranger there. Besides, I might get abducted and killed once I set foot...This is a real possibility, a very real one...
There is a Law of NO RETURN written for a lot of the Iraqis in exile, for the thousands of us in Exile...most of us refugees are either Sunnis, Christians or some other minority...all of us fled because of our sects...Some of us have lost our homes to the militias and their families who are currently occupying them. We are in waiting...I am in waiting and I have a feeling I will be waiting for a long time...
And if I assume nothing will happen to me there, and all will be fine, I would never be able to fit in there again...there in that society.
I do not want to be forced to veil myself, I do not want to be daily harassed, and even assuming this is not the case - where will I stay ? I can't stay at relatives indefinitely. And assuming this issue is solved, who will employ me ? I don't have the means to start my own business and would not even know how to...the only avenues are posts related directly or indirectly to governmental institutions...but then how can I possibly work for the Occupation puppets ? And assuming I could, who would employ an Arab Sunni, and a woman to top it all of ? Assuming they would employ me, would I be able to survive in a climate of fear and constant taunts and slurs because of my sect, fear that this person or the other belongs to a militia or to a sectarian party, a chronic state of fear of being punished for belonging to the wrong sect. I would not be able to survive it... And even if I did, then what if something terrible happens for X reason, who can I run to ? The police is a militia in itself, there is not state of law...just thinking about all of that filled me with the greatest of anxiety, almost to the point of a panic attack.
Whichever way I looked it and from whichever angle, assuming the worst and best case scenarios, it became all too clear for me that the Law of NO Return applied to me.. but not only to me. Many others share my predicament...the Law of NO return applies to them as well.
It's a non written law, it's a law we all understood and we all are abiding by. That is why there is no major return of refugees back to Iraq. We understood there is no place for us there anymore. Strangers in exile and even greater strangers in our own country...
I keep pushing away the very strong feeling of homesickness, talking myself out of it, not wanting to face it, shutting the door in its face, just like the doors were shut in mine...I too, try very hard to put an X on it, and not feel anymore...
I understood why Iraqis avoid speaking about their sense of exile and change subjects. The pain is too great and the realization that comes from that pain -- the idea that we might never go back is an even greater pain...a feeling I really can't put into words.
It's like an exile within an Exile...
It's a bit like standing on the shores and seeing a place at the horizon, the distance is not too great, yet it is immense...or standing on the shore and seeing a place you know all too well and you love deeply, and you look around you and there are no boats to take you over to the other side...
I continued walking, and kept thinking...saying to myself -- Face it woman, you are not getting any younger...and one thought led to another...will I die without seeing Baghdad again, ever again ? Is that a real possibility I need to contend myself with ? Not see my home, not visit my family's grave, not see Dijla again, not smell the smells I am so used to...the idea in itself kills me... Will I remain a stranger for the rest of my life ?
I continued walking and from somewhere deep inside of me this voice kept begging - please take me home...
I could not hold back the tears anymore...and when passers by stared at my face, I pretended to dab the corners with a tissue as if some foreign object lodged itself there, I pretended that my eyes were tearing because of some dust, or some cold wind hitting my face...
I returned home and my mother said to me out of the blue: the only time I will see Baghdad again is from my coffin...make sure to bury me there...
Old Iraqi song - rendition by Bashar Al-Azzawi. Hadha moo Insaf meenak. -- no merciful fairness from you.
youtube: MrBlawee, April 12, 2009.
Painting: Iraqi female artist, Betool Fekaiki.
