Someone once asked me if what I write here are true stories, my reply : Yes they are. Which is evidently not the case for my fiction blog...fiction IS fiction, even though a good deal are way too stupid to realize that simple truism.
Here, I change the names to protect people's anonymity. I really don't know why am decent that way, because some people need to have their names fully exposed...
But still, the fact that they've become feed for my blog, confers upon them some privacy, even though some don't deserve it...not one bit.
So here's another true story, it happened about two weeks ago. I like this story, because in each story lies a whole other story, a vaster, more complex one...in each story lies an ocean of other little stories, big stories, destinies, fate, circumstances, outcomes, consequences...
In each story lies bits of my own - personal and collective...past, present and future...
And last but not least, each story is a microcosm for the bigger picture...the bigger picture being men and women, exile, occupation, culture, politics...a HI-STORY...
I went shopping one late afternoon, and before heading back to my place, I stopped at Starbucks. I usually don't go to Starbucks, but I really fancied a good Cappuccino, and even though I've boycotted Starbucks, I realized that those who urged us to do so, were still using Facebook whose owner is an even worse Zionist that the owner of Starbucks. Moreover, it also hit me that those who urged us to boycott supporters of the Jewish Entity, had zero qualms about consuming American and Iranian products, and I really don't believe that these two latter are any less lethal than Israel. So I guess that settles that.
The weather was mild and warm, so I seated myself outside, by the entrance, it was the best lit spot around, and after ordering my long awaited coffee, I picked the book I had just bought...
Making myself comfortable, I opened the virgin pages with excited anticipation as I was about to travel into someone else story...
A man, late 30's passed by, making his way into the cafe to order...he smiled and said hi there, in an American English accent. I smiled back, said hi and plunged my head back in my book...
But I knew that he'd walk out, and walk back in again to order something else...and I gave him exactly 10 mn to do so.
I predicted correctly...after 10 mn, he walked back in again, and this time stopped at the entrance, right where I was seated...
-Sorry to disturb you, but have we met before ?
I raised my head from my book - nope we haven't
- So can we now, then ?
That got me chuckling...novel - I thought to myself...had not heard that second line before...
He looked a bit like Richard Gere, had a pair of jeans on and a white shirt, and I liked his smile...there was nothing offensive about him...these were my first 2 nanosecond impressions...and he spoke to me in English, which for me meant that he was fluent and comfortable with it...which in turn meant that he might be just visiting...
- May I ? he said, approaching the empty chair...
I nodded, I was curious as usual...
So he introduced himself...he's a Palestinian, who lived most of his life in the U.S, returned home a couple of years ago to look after the family business and is heading out back to the U.S in a couple of months...and according to him he was single...
So we just talked...about this and the other... a basic conversation.
At that point he did not ask me personal questions like my origins, my age....etc..just general stuff, the kind of book I was reading, life here, job opportunities or the lack of them...so on and so forth...
I noticed that he was easy going, respectful and considerate...and I appreciated those qualities...I also liked his smile, it was charming...
After a couple of hours and time did pass quickly, I said I needed to leave...so he asked if we can meet again, soon...
I saw no reason not to, so I accepted to meet him again.
Two days later, we met again...we went to this newly opened terrace bar/cafe.
Again, he was pleasant, courteous, had a sense of humor, easy going, the conversation seemed to flow easily, and he seemed interested in what I had to say about this or the other, and most importantly he listened when I spoke and did not interrupt like most men do -- in other words, he did not monopolize the conversation and I felt it was a two way thing...and I liked that about him...it was a nice change from the kind of specimens I had met before...
Meanwhile, he received several phone calls and text messages...he did not pick up the phone which was a good sign and he volunteered to show me a few of the messages he had received -- mainly female admirers...I took it with humor, I did not feel bothered by it one bit...after all, he asked me out and not them...
Several hours passed and the evening had run its course...I was going to hail a cab back home but he offered to drop me on his way, since he did not live too far off...
While driving back, he played some of his favorite music, which lo and behold consisted of Pavarotti, some Buble Jazz and some Latin tunes...I was surprised...all in his favor...
And a little before we reached my place, he said :
- By the way, we've been talking in English all this time and I did not ask you, where are you from ? Are you from here?
- No, I am not...
So he tried guessing...making a tour of all the Arab countries...
- I'm Iraqi
- Oh, Iraqi !
And I could sense something change in him, I felt it strongly...like he backtracked...his tone changed, his expressions changed...and before we reached my place, he said " is it going to be your place or mine ?"
Even though I felt shocked, somewhere deep inside I was expecting it...
After 2003, Iraqi women have been viewed as easy preys and have a stigma attached to them --that of prostitutes...even though nothing in my attire or demeanor could have suggested that...still, he had to slap me with it.
- Stop the car, now ! I ordered
- What ?!
- You heard me, stop the car ...my tone of voice rising...I unfastened my seat belt, and opened the car door...
- What happened, what's wrong with you ?!
- No, what's wrong with YOU ?! Had I been one of the local females you would have never dared say what you just said, but because am Iraqi...
- Hey I thought you were an educated, cultured woman...
- And I thought you were a gentleman...but you turned out to be a piece of shit.
-Listen, I don't accept that you insult my "karama."(honor/dignity)
-Karama ? because you folks have karama ?!
I slammed the door and walked the remaining back to my place...
Meanwhile mister called several times - calls which I totally ignored and then sent a message with " okay am sorry...now pick up"
I switched off my phone and threw myself on my bed...I stared at the ceiling of this dark room, tears rolling down my face...bitter tears from a story with no end...
Is this what we have amounted to ?
This great Iraq, with its arduous, brave, hard working, intelligent, educated, resilient women and men amount to ?
Is this what all those years of suffering, sacrifice and endurance amount to ?
Is this what the cradle of civilization amounts to ? What Sumer, Uruk, Babylon, Gilgamesh, Ishtar, Hammurabi, Nebuchadnezzar, Nimrud...amount to ?
The land oft the two rivers, the land of the Tigris and Euphrates, the land of the Rafidain, the land of the prophets, of the Abbasids, of Harun Al-Rashid, of the thousand and one nights, of princes, of poets, of writers, of thinkers, of inventors, of discoverers...the land of music, of art, of sculpture, of poetry, of literature, of epics amount to ?
Your place or mine ?...that sentence kept repeating itself in my head until the first rays of dawn...
And in that sentence the whole, bigger story was revealed, once more...
