Folded hands, a strong standing and maybe better than any movie star's. I wonder whether there was an idea amongst his to have a journey with the canoe, and I wonder whether he would sit cross-legged and let his hand sway, just to revive the water that might set up a power against the fingers, or he would stand to feel the kind wind that would come from among the reeds to kid his scarf … And I am still aiming to wonder … and more..more..
A man from the south.. where I always wanted to go and always wanted to something right.. to give my hands to people inspired me and people taught me how to see the truth.. the beauty, and the great happiness..
And the pieces of cloth that were placed well there, and that are catching my attention today, and now, were they of his own or not?? If not, to whom did they belong?? Maybe to one of his friends.. and maybe he was just about to call him for a fishery..
Did they think of living in a city? Or was the marsh the first and the last land they enjoyed living on??
With all the simplicity the surroundings offered..
Were they educated?? If not, why were not they? Didn’t they get any chance of caring?? If yes, why??
I ask myself, would I feel of a dignity if I stood before him?
Yes!! Maybe the lineage he belongs to begins with a Sumerian king.. maybe all the matter doenst need all these questions..
Ok, one more question, did he live in TNT era??
I believe I have the answer.. as I see, no, he did not..
And for his sake, he had no way to contemplate any of the secenes below, and no way to describe his feelings.. I am sure he would stand speechless with horrified eyes.. but, the certainty I think of comes only from my little experience in life, maybe he would stand the same way, as if he would say " nothing can prevent me from continuing my way.. not even you Mr. TNT".
Maybe he would blame the people we trusted once, he would blame the times that accepted our being under fear and war..
Few days ago, a loud exploison occurred in one of the villages that belong to my city, and it is far, but we could feel of the quake.. my sisters woke up and harried to my bed, it seemed very small and unable to carry all of us.. we slept on the floor, on a mat, so, I could tell a story without any exposure to saffocation, lol..
I myself don’t prefer to talk of bad and sad events, but I saw it weird , we already began to think that the situation is going to be better.. I am sure it will, today or tomorrow, but I am just afraid, afraid of more losses..
If our government doesn’t help us, we should help ourselves, we will stand for our people.. The elections can make a change.. We just hope no primises and no speeches will be heard any longer.. we want deeds..we need deeds..
There are Iraqis who forgot their first love, forgot Iraq one day, and I really hope they will go back to their hearts again.. I hope Iraq will stay the goal for everybody on this land..
And we cant say that today is like yesterday, no, it is so much better, but approaching the best should be faster than this, so faster..
Cities like: Nasryya, Diwanyya, Samawa, Omara, Wast witness a proportional safety and they don’t witness any big rebuilding, and the question is , why????
No one can deny the hard work that the Iraqi army is doing , but, they should do more, it is not out of their energy, no, the unsafe places are not that many.. they can do it..
Aziz Ali, one of the Iraqi artists.. He was born at some point during the period 1910-1920.. it talks about the situation, and how bad it was during the 60s or the 50s.. when he speaks, I think he is talking about these days..
This monologue tells a man's story in a comical aimful way.. this man is talking to a doctor, telling that he is very sick, he wants a suitable medicine, and actually the illness is not one of the body's, it is one of the soul's.. finally, after all the explaining, he aks him to let him take a posion or to do a surgery if its needed, this man just wants to have everything working well, he's become very tired and sick of the difficulties and the disease he got for the several years ago... this man is like our people, iraqi people.. and the doctor is like the government, the iraqi government..
There's a day when the streets will be full of flowers, and the buildings will be modern and very high.. a day when the rivers' water will be very clear and all the factories will work.. when the educated will be offered for everybody, the young and old, and when a toy will be given to every child, and surely with a smile..