[Mb-civic] Life in Iraq

[ean at sbcglobal.net]

http://riverbendblog.blogspot.com/2006_01_01_riverbendblog_archive.html#
113709584389005811

Baghdad Burning

... I'll meet you 'round the bend my friend, where hearts can heal and
souls can mend...

Thursday, January 12, 2006

Thank You for the Music...

When I first heard about the abduction of Christian Science Monitor
journalist Jill Carroll a week ago, I remember feeling regret. It was the
same heavy feeling I get every time I hear of another journalist killed or
abducted. The same heavy feeling that settles upon most Iraqis, I imagine,
when they hear of acquaintances suffering under the current situation.

I read the news as a subtitle on tv. We haven't had an internet connection
for several days so I couldn't really read about the details. All I knew
was that a journalist had been abducted and that her Iraqi interpreter had
been killed. He was shot in cold blood in Al Adil district earlier this
month, when they took Jill Carroll... Theysay he didn't die immediately.
It is said he lived long enough to talk to police and then he died.

I found out very recently that the interpreter killed was a good friend-
Alan, of Alan's Melody, and I've spent the last two days crying.

Everyone knew him as simply 'Alan', or "Elin" as it is pronounced in Iraqi
Arabic. Prior to the war, he owned a music shop in the best area in
Baghdad, A'arasat. He sold some Arabic music and instrumental music, but
he had his regular customers - those westernized Iraqis who craved foreign
music. For those of us who listened to rock, adult alternative, jazz, etc.
he had very few rivals.

He sold bootleg CDs, tapes and DVDs. His shop wasn't just a music shop- it
was a haven. Some of my happiest moments were while I was walking out of
that shop carrying CDs and tapes, full of anticipation for the escape the
music provided. He had just about everything from Abba to Marilyn Manson.
He could provide anything. All you had to do was go to him with the
words,"Alan- I heard a great song on the radio... you have to find it!"
Andhe'd sit there, patiently, asking who sang it? You don't know? Ok- was
it a man or a woman? Fine. Do you remember any of the words? Chances 
were
that he'd already heard it and even knew some of the lyrics.

During the sanctions, Iraq was virtually cut off from the outside world.We
had maybe four or five local tv stations and it was only during the later
years that the internet became more popular. Alan was one of those links
with the outside world. Walking into Alan's shop was like walking into a
sort of transitional other world. Whenever you walked into the store,
great music would be blaring from his speakers and he and Mohammed, the
guy who worked in his shop, would be arguing over who was better, Joe
Satriani or Steve Vai.

He would have the latest Billboard hits posted on a sheet of paper near
the door and he'd have compiled a few of his own favorites on a
'collection' CD. He also went out of his way to get recordings of the
latest award shows- Grammys, AMAs, Oscars, etc. You could visit him twice
and know that by the third time, he'd have memorized your favorites and
found music you might be interested in.

He was an electrical engineer- but his passion was music. His dream was to
be a music producer. He was always full of scorn for the usual boy bands -
N'Sync, Backstreet Boys, etc. - but he was always trying to promote an
Iraqi boy band he claimed he'd discovered,"Unknown to No One". "They're
great- wallah they have potential." He'd say. E. would answer, "Alan,
they're terrible." And Alan, with his usual Iraqi pride would lecture
about how they were great, simply because they were Iraqi.

He was a Christian from Basrah and he had a lovely wife who adored him- F.
We would tease him about how once he was married and had a family, he'd
lose interest in music. It didn't happen. Conversations with Alan
continued to revolve around Pink Floyd, Jimmy Hendrix, but they began to
include F. his wife, M. his daughter and his little boy. My heart aches
for his family- his wife and children...

You could walk into the shop and find no one behind the counter- everyone
was in the other room, playing one version or another of FIFA soccer on
the Play Station. He collected those old records, or 'vinyls'. The older
they were, the better. While he promoted new musical technology, he always
said that nothing could beat the soundof a vintage vinyl.

We went to Alan not just to buy music. It always turned into a social
visit. He'd make you sit down, listen to his latest favorite CD and drink
something. Then he'd tell you the latest gossip- he knew it all. He knew
where all the parties were, who the best DJs were and who was getting
married or divorced. He knew the local gossip and the international
gossip, but it was never malicious with Alan. It was always the funny
sort.

The most important thing about Alan was that he never let you down. Never.
Whatever it was that you wanted, he'd try his hardest to get it. If you
became his friend, that didn't just include music- he was ready to lend a
helping hand to those in need, whether it was just to give advice, or
listen after a complicated, difficult week.

After the war, the area he had his shop in deteriorated. There were car
bombs and shootings and the Badir people took over some of the houses
there. People went to A'arasat less and less because it was too dangerous.
His shop was closed up more than it was open. He shut it up permanently
after getting death threats and a hand grenade through his shop window.
His car was carjacked at some point and he was shot at so he started
driving around in his fathers beaten-up old Toyota Cressida with a picture
of Sistani on his back window, "To ward off the fanatics..." He winked and
grinned.

E. and I would stop by his shop sometimes after the war, before he shut it
down. We went in once and found that there was no electricity,and no
generator. The shop was dimly lit with some sort of fuel lampand Alan was
sitting behind the counter, sorting through CDs. He was ecstatic to see
us. There was no way we could listen to music so he and E. sang through
some of their favorite songs, stumbling upon the lyrics and making things
up along the way. Then we started listening to various ring tones and
swapping the latest jokes of the day. Before we knew it, two hours had
slipped by and the world outside was forgotten, an occasional explosion
bringing us back to reality.

It hit me then that it wasn't the music that made Alan's shop a haven-
somewhere to forget problems and worries- it was Alan himself.

He loved Pink Floyd:


Did you see the frightened ones?
Did you hear the falling bombs?
Did you ever wonder why we
Had to run for shelter when the
Promise of a brave, new world
Unfurled beneath the clear blue sky?
Did you see the frightened ones?
Did you hear the falling bombs?
The flames are all long gone, but the pain lingers on.
Goodbye, blue sky
Goodbye, blue sky.
Goodbye. Goodbye.



(Goodbye Blue Sky - Pink Floyd)

Goodbye Alan...


- posted by river @ 10:05 PM
Wednesday, January 04, 2006

2006...

Here we are in the first days of 2006. What does the '6' symbolize? How
about- 6 hours of no electricity for every one hour of electricity? Or. 6
hours of waiting in line for gasoline that is three times as expensive as
it was in 2005? Or an average of six explosions per day near our area
alone?


The beginning of the new year isn't a promising one. Prices seem to have
shot up on everything from fuels like kerosene and cooking gas, to
tomatoes. A typical conversation with Abu Ammar our local fruit/vegetable
vendor goes something like this:

R: "Oh nice lemons today Abu Ammar. give us a kilo."

Abu A: "They are Syrian. You should see the tomatoes- if you think these
are nice, take a look at those."

R: "Hmmm. they do look good. Two kilos of those. How much will that be?"

Abu A: "That will be 3600 dinars."

R (feigning shock and awe): "3600 dinars! What? That is almost double what
we paid a week ago. why?"

Abu A (feigning sorrow and regret): "Habibti. you know what my supplier
has to go through to bring me these vegetables? The cost of gasoline has
gone up! I swear on the life of my mother that I'm only profiting 50
dinars per kilo."

R: "Your mother is dead, isn't she?"

Abu A: "Yes yes- but you know how valuable the dear woman was to me- 
may
Allah have mercy on her- and on us all! The dogs in the government are
going to kill us with these prices."

R (sighing heavily): "You voted for the dogs last year Abu Ammar."

Abu A: "Shhh. don't call them dogs- it's not proper. Anyway, it's not
their fault- the Americans are making them do it. my Allah curse them and
their children."

R (with eyes rolling) and Abu A (in unison): ". and their children's
children."


A few days ago, the cousin took me to buy a pack of recordable CDs. The
price had gone up a whole dollar, which may seem a pittance to the average
American or European, but it must be remembered that many Iraqis make as
little as $100 a month and complete families are expected to survive on
that.

"B. why has the price of these lousy CDs gone up so much???" I demanded
from the shop owner who is also a friend, "Don't tell me your supplier has
also pushed the prices up on you because of the gasoline shortage?" I
asked sarcastically. No- supplies cost the same for him- he has not needed
to stock up yet. But this is how he explained it: his car takes 60 liters
of gasoline. It needs to be refueled every 2-3 days. The official price of
gasoline was 50 Iraqi dinars before, so it cost him around 3000 dinars to
fill up his car, which was nearly two dollars. Now it costs 9000 Iraqi
dinars IF he fills it up at a gas station and not using black market
gasoline which will cost him around 15,000 dinars- five times the former
price- and this every two to three days. He also has to purchase extra
gasoline for the shop generator which needs to be working almost
constantly, now that electricity is about four hours daily. "Now how am I
supposed to cover that increase in my costs if I don't sell CDs at a
higher price?"

People buy black market gasoline because for many, waiting in line five,
six, seven. ten hours isn't an option. We've worked out a sort of
agreement amongst 4 or 5 houses in the neighborhood. According to a
schedule (which is somewhat complicated and involves license plate
numbers, number of children per family, etc.), one of us spends the day
filling up the car and then the gasoline is distributed between the four
or five involved neighbors.


The process of extracting the gasoline from the car itself once it is back
at the house was a rather disgusting and unhealthy one up until nearly a
year ago. A hose was inserted into the gasoline tank and one of they
unlucky neighbors would suck on it until the first surge of gasoline came
flowing out. Now, thanks to both local and Chinese ingenuity, we have
miniature gasoline pumps to suck out the gasoline. "The man who invented
these," My cousin once declared emotionally, holding the pump up like a
trophy, "deserves a Nobel Prize in. something or another."

I know for most of the world, highly priced gasoline is a common concern.
For Iraqis, it represents how the situation is deteriorating. Gasoline and
kerosene were literally cheaper than bottled water prior to the war. It's
incredibly frustrating that while the price of petrol is at a high, one of
the worlds leading oil-producing countries isn't producing enough to cover
its own needs.

There is talk of major mismanagement and theft in the Oil Ministry.
Chalabi took over several days ago and a friend who works in the ministry
says the takeover is a joke. "You know how they used to check our handbags
when we first walked into the ministry?" She asked the day after Chalabi
crowned himself Oil Emperor, "Now WE check our handbags after we leave 
the
ministry- you know- to see if Chalabi stole anything."

I guess the Iraqis who thought the US was going to turn Iraq into another
America weren't really far from the mark- we too now enjoy inane leaders,
shady elections, a shaky economy, large-scale unemployment and soaring gas
prices.

Goodbye 2005- the year of SCIRI, fraudulent elections, secret torture
chambers, car bombs, white phosphorous, assassinations, sectarianism and
fundamentalism. you will not be missed.

Let us see what 2006 has in store for us.


- posted by river @ 11:32 PM



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