Place; Suwayra, Baghdad, Republic of Iraq & Kingdom of Iraq.
The stage light is beaming on Abdul-Karim Qassim, the sweat is finding its way from his forehead to his neck, his handkerchief is dripping wet from all the times he has wiped his face. The Prime-Minister is standing on a podium in Suwayra, for the opening of a local school he donated to the village. It is in the middle of the summer, the climate is humid and large swamp darners are flying in and out of the tent.
The air inside the tent is full of smoke coming from the cigarettes exhaled by the local sheiks; they are the honorable guests from the tribal council. Each one of them is watching his every move, trying to read his body language; is he pressured? Is he defeated? Is he scared? They are looking at him like vultures observing a wounded lion, wondering how much more can he take?
The Prime-Minister is pressured on all fronts; his neighbors are constantly testing the sovereignty of Iraq. The opposition (and at times, members of the government) can be found on the payroll of the CIA, MI6, GIS and KGB. Tribes are combating the reforms written by academics, considered too radical for their taste. Imams are busy deeming lawmakers as heretic and, and, and... The list goes on.
He was speaking about his father's old farm house, which was located in a desolate area within Suwayra. He donated the house to the locals after the revolution in 1958 and promised to add a school, when the community grows around the house. A school he was opening today.
While speaking about his past in Suwayra, he was running the palm of his hand on the surface of his military suit. In the middle of an anecdote, he cracked up a spontaneous laugh; he just realized he has more bullet wounds than friends.
By the end of his speech, a barefooted man with ragged clothes and messy hair appeared amongst the crowd. The sheiks turned their faces towards him in disgust, while for Abdul-Karim Qassim it was a much welcome and familiar face.
He couldn't believe it, this tired man with a dark face full of wrinkles and a white five o'clock shadow was his childhood friend, Jabbar Al-Aaraj, a kid he had met four decades ago in Suwayra. As their eyes met, a pleasant smile appeared on Jabbars face, a smile that put the Prime-Minister on a trip down memory lane.
The year is 1922, the exact date is unknown, but it was in the middle of the summer. Jabbar and Abdel-Karim were both standing on the top of a mound, looking down at the majestic river, Dijla (Tigris). The seven year old Abdel-Karim had just moved from Al-Mehdiyah, after his father had lost his job and later on, found work at his brothers farm in Suwayra.
As he was looking down at Dijla, scratching the back of his head; looking at Jabbar, looking at the river, looking at Jabbar again, looking at the river. Jabbar was worried about the silence, the hell raiser Abdel-Karim is once again contemplating one of his great ideas; am i going to be the first boy in the village, to have ever crossed Dijla?
As a child, he had built quite a reputation. Before he came to Suwayra, he was known for being a trouble-maker. At the age of five, his father had enlisted him in one of the Quranic schools run by Al-Mawlaya Fatima. She was the daughter of Al-Haj Mustafa Abdullah Al-Jibouri, the speaker and imam of Al-Fadhil mosque opposite the school.
Even though Abdel-Karim managed to memorize the Quran, he still ran away from school to play with his crew of five year old misfits. Constantly got into trouble and the teachers stood in line to talk with his father, begging him to change the direction his son was going.
Nothing helped and he continued his behavior in Suwayra, but he learned his lesson that summer afternoon. Even though Jabbar insisted on not letting his friend swim across the river, all pleas were ignored by Abdel-Karim, as he started to run down the mound. Daring Jabbar to catch him, before he jumped into the water clouded by the mud and started swimming.
Already halfway, it was obvious that Abdel-Karim was in trouble. It seemed that the dirt in the water had made his clothes heavy and started to drag him down to the bottom of the river. But for a seven year old, Jabbar was extremely brave and didn't hesitate to jump into the river to help his friend.
After heroically retrieving the unconscious Abdel-Karim from the water, Jabbar panicked, thinking he just lost his friend. He started to slap him, beat his chest, holding his legs together; moving them back and forth, as if he was trying to pump the water out of his body.
The two boys were struggling, one to keep his life and the other to save it. All of this in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by complete silence. The only thing that could be heard was the birds chirping and the nervous breakdown of a seven year old, desperately trying to bring back life in his best friend's body.
In a moment of relief, a much welcome sound came out of Abdel-Karim, a gurgling sound of him throwing up water. The next thing he saw - as the eyes were opening - was a blurred vision of the sun's rays.
40 years later, like the sun - in the, what could have been a disastrous summer afternoon - Jabbars face lightened up the tent for the now Prime-Minister of Iraq. He received a warmth from Jabbars presence, comparable to the sun's warmth he felt, as his soul re-entered his body four decades ago.
After the speech, the Prime-Minister ordered his bodyguard Wasfi Tahir, to get him Jabbar. As they met after the speech, the two men in their late 40's hugged each other and kissed each cheek four times, before they caught up on each other's lives.
As the Prime-Minister eventually left Suwayra decades ago, Jabbar stayed with his family and from what it seemed, life hadn't treated him very nicely. As they said their goodbyes, the Prime-Minister ordered the officer responsible for his accounting: To take out 60 dinars each month from his personal wage and give it to his savior Jabbar. Back then 60 dinars were worth 150 £, which is the equivalent of 2715 £ (4467 $) as the rate is set on February 2nd 2014.
General Abdel-Karim Qassim at an opening of a school,
with his bodyguard Colonel Wasfi Tahir by his side
and the Chief of Staff Ahmad Saleh behind him.
with his bodyguard Colonel Wasfi Tahir by his side
and the Chief of Staff Ahmad Saleh behind him.
Anno 1961.
Sources
- First-hand account from Jabbar Al-Aaraj,written by the author Ahmad Fawzi in the book "Abdel-Karim Qassim and His Last Hours".
- Image #1 from the facebook page: "Illustrated Archive of the Leader Abdul-Karim Qassim".
No comments:
Post a Comment