Thursday, March 23, 2006

A Sad Prose Poem from an Iraqi Blogger

Citizen Cain's favorite Iraqi blog, Healing Iraq, resumed regular posting about a month ago after a long hiatus. Zeyad, Healing Iraq's maitre de blog, had been extremely optimistic about the prospects for his country in the aftermath of the invasion, and very positively-inclined towards the Coalition. It has been sad to see Zeyad's building frustration over the years with the circumstances in his country, and with the failures of the occupation.

His latest post, which describes the growing chaos in Baghdad, concludes with an intensity and passionate insistence on bearing witness that brings to mind Dylan's Hard Rain, albeit in realistic prose rather than Dylan's dream-like poetry.
Please don’t ask me whether I believe Iraq is on the verge of civil war yet or not. I have never experienced a civil war before, only regular ones. All I see is that both sides are engaged in tit-for-tat lynchings and summary executions. I see governmental forces openly taking sides or stepping aside. I see an occupation force that is clueless about what is going on in the country. I see politicians that distrust each other and continue to flame the situation for their own personal interests. I see Islamic clerics delivering fiery sermons against each other, then smile and hug each other at the end of the day in staged PR stunts. I see the country breaking into pieces. The frontlines between different districts of Baghdad are already clearly demarked and ready for the battle. I was stopped in my own neighbourhood yesterday by a watch team and questioned where I live and what I was doing in that area. I see other people curiously staring in each other’s faces on the street. I see hundreds of people disappearing in the middle of the night and their corpses surfacing next day with electric drill holes in them. I see people blown up to smithereens because a brainwashed virgin seeker targeted a crowded market or café. I see all that and more.

Don’t you dare chastise me for writing about what I see in my country.

I'm not sure who the last sentence is aimed at. Who is chastising Zeyad for writing about what he sees? Whoever it is, don't listen Zeyad! Keep on calling it like you see it.