June 14 2007 The Sky Will Not Rain Again, part 2 (A Basrah story)

Rafed's story continues below <<click 'Continue reading' to view part 2>>. Here is more of his email:

What is happening to us, believe me, is far more overwhelming and horrendous than the September 11 events. Those who attacked you and killed your beloved ones for no reason but madness and sheer grudge at a society living in peace and liberty that go at extreme variance with their evil minds are themselves who are attacking our beloved today in different parts of Iraq.
Rafed

 

 

 

from The Sky will not Rain Again by  RAFED A. KHASHAN,

AUGUST 28, 2006

Karim glanced Jalal waving his hand with a big smile on his face. “Have you heard the news?”

“Which news?”

“Saddam is finished and the government flew away, bye-bye papa Saddam.” Jalal frisked towards Karim enthusiastically. <<end part one>>

“There would no longer be rotten Baathists breaking into our houses in the midnight  in search for fugitives or to take us to the party section to spend the night with the dogs.”

“You must be kidding?” 

“Look at those people and how joyous they are. The good guys  entered Baghdad with no opposition, the Americans themselves are  surprised.”

The gathering was in a state of ecstatic elation, they were laughing and  cursing Saddam loudly. However, some of them were still afraid of cursing  Saddam in public. Karim was astounded, all the beautiful dreams and future plans seemed
within reach. They would soon be like the rest of the world, modern  technology, mobile phones, fashionable cars, air-conditioned work places,  a long list of fantasies and false expectations. The weary crowd of people seemed to have forgotten their misery with the news of toppling Saddam. They laughed and cracked jokes at the ‘fallen’ regime. They were pathetic; not knowing what would be awaiting them.

Thrilled and raptured, Karim returned home carrying his daily bundle of  wood and went to his mother to tell her the news. She was not so much surprised and did not show a great interest. The news did not seem to appeal to her as she was convinced that nothing new would soon happen to remove their misery for ever. She took the wood and began to kindle the fireplace. The wood was wet and did not burn easily. She spilled some oil from the lantern on the sticks, which began to smolder with wisps of damp smoke.      

“What will you cook us today?” Karim asked.   

“Nothing’s soup.” His mother had a rather black sense of humor that 
made him smirk.

 

“I long for some meat; I can’t eat this watery, vegetarian soup any longer.”

“Only human’s meat is cheap today.” Karim’s mother spluttered while she was stirring the lumpy lintel soup.

Outside, people were preoccupied with petty talk about the recent  developments and the new order. The central Baathist government melted like ice in a whirlpool, and Saddam himself disappeared in an  occult hideout. The political affair did not concern Karim so much and he opted not to get in discussions of this kind. Maybe, he was also afraid of Saddam’s ghost that was still haunting the minds and hearts of most Iraqis.

Summer was approaching rapidly and the weather was getting warmer and warmer. There was no spring in Basrah, where Karim lived, only for a short time. Flowers and butterflies could only be seen on the TV that Karim was about to forget because of the scheduled power cut-offs. The only interesting thing that appealed to him was the scattered cottony clouds that were moving in different shapes in the sky driven by the soft breezes. One was like the face of a girl, the other was just like a chair that had soon morphed into something like a car or a table or may be nothing. The whole thing was an illusion. They were no more than creations of Karim’s fantasy as when he used to tell his friends that he saw the face of a beautiful girl in the moon. <<end part two>>