No, Not My Daughters!
While the marionettes were throwing political balls into each other courts and wooing the US ambassador at Iraqi President Jalal Talabani’s residence, gangsters broke into my house looking for my daughters.
My wife called me around 2 pm last Wednesday while I was working in my office and said with miff, “Your daughters just called me asking if I have sent some one to the house; three men opened the house door and took two cocking gas cylinders as Um ‘Y’ our next door neighbor said, but I did not send any body.”
We thought that they were no more than normal thieves looking for $40 worth gas cylinder to sell them.
“You better come back home, I do not think that those men were after the cocking gas cylinders, they were in the house and asked Um ‘Y’ about our daughters”, my wife said that bitterly when she called me again from the house after she talked to my neighbor.
My daughters were not at home at that time because their minibus broke down at that day so they had to walk back home and this is why they were late, “They should be home by now”, one of the gangsters told my neighbor with an interjection when she told him that the girls still at school replying for his question about them.
My fear rushed with me to the house, it was striking hard on my head and making me so meager while it was growing and growing, it filled the car that I was driving in the dusk through the useless police checkpoints in a bumpy road that was not paved since Saddam era.
It took me 45 minutes in a 15-minute road to reach my house because of those police checkpoints and the 150-meter distance that we should maintain between our cars and the US military Hummers that were patrolling the street so slow, we can not pass them even if it was an emergency other wise they will shoot us so I was driving slowly following them while I was boiling deep inside trying to get home as fast as possible.
I can not call the police because I do not trust them and I can not ask for help to protect my daughters, what shall I do? I remembered what that guy said in his comment about Iraqis should help themselves and do not expect every thing from the Americans but how can I help myself in this case to protect my daughters.
The house was dark when I reached there because there was no electricity as it comes on for one hour and goes off for 8, and the public generator that supplies our block with electricity broke down two days ago and no one fixed it because its mechanic was killed last week because he was Shiite.
I walked inside the dark house stumbling with things on the floor that I couldn’t see because of the darkness; my wife and my daughters were all sitting in the living room motionless with awe.
I sat by my daughter who was squatting on the sofa and told them, “I am going to take you all outside Iraq, it is not the place that you can stay in any more, let us leave this country for those marionettes and the gangsters.”
My wife said, if they were after the cocking gas cylinders, we had six of them but they took only two; why didn’t they took the generator which was by the cylinders, it is more expensive; I do not think that they were thieves; even my neighbor said that they had a new good clean black car that they used to put the cylinders in; I do not think that whoever has a new car like this need to steel cocking gas cylinders.
My daughters were doing their pre-final exam so they did not want to leave before finishing it, “We will waste a whole school year if we will leave now, can’t we wait one more week?”, my oldest daughter said that with a sad tone.
At the same night, I changed the doors locks and reinforced the main gate; I even changed their driver with another more trusted one who lives just cross the street, and talked to my neighbors to keep eye on the house; more over, we decided to move them around from place to another every day.
I couldn’t sleep that night so does my family, I kept on staring to the roof in the house that was lightened by the dancing flame of the candles with AK47 gun by my head.
“That’s it”, I told my self; I will not be able to sit with them like before, laugh, yell, watching them teasing each other, who will be doing my Argela, to smoke, the way that my youngest daughter use to make for me every night; I will miss them, even though that they will stay alive by leaving the country but I will not be able to see them and live with them like now, “I lost them in any case”, that was the phrase that was tumbling in my head while I was writhing in my bed.
I kept asking my self the whole night, “Why they are after us?”
Most of the Iraqis now do not know why they are dieing or who is after them and I became one of them.
Next morning, I was leaving the house when two men took a picture of me while they were driving by the house and run away.
On the next day, my youngest daughter broke the house arrest rules, which were imposed on them by us, and went to her teacher, who lives one block from my house, for a privet lesson.
Two men in a black car chased her to her teacher house then when she finished the lesson they were still waiting for her there so she told her teacher and called her mother; the teacher kept her in her house until they left then she walked her home.
It bothered me that no one cared for what happened, no one offered a solution, except ‘J’ who works with me, all the others either gave me some impractical advices or did not care because what happened with me is an every day story in Iraq now.
What has happened to me was not something new, for instance, my neighbor was kidnapped then his father, both were kidnapped by men “wearing” police uniform, and the son of a friend of my wife was kidnapped too by some other group and the same thing happened with another friend of hers and another neighbor, all this kidnapping took place with in four months and in one area, we were the last but not least.
Iraqis are trying to leave the country, before it is too late, but which country will give visas for Iraqis now, and how much it will cost to live there, this is why only the rich families can leave now and the rest must stay and face death.
I just became a new scene in the Iraqi tragic play which the marionettes called it the new Iraq, but we will leave this new Iraq for them.
I don’t think that they will found many Iraqis who will accept to live in their new Iraq..
I know about that because,
I was there..