Talking About Jane Austen in Baghdad

by Bee Rowlatt

  At college I went to the hall to give my lecture, which is situated above the students’ cafeteria. I walked in, greeted the students and started talking right away. Then I heard screams downstairs, and the sound of breaking glass, but I continued because I have decided to keep teaching till the last minute before we leave the country. I always tell myself that it is not fair to desert the students, who face similar dangers. They have taken the trouble to come to college so it is only fair that I perform my duty the best I can.

  As I finished I was told that a sniper’s bullet had gone through the glass of the cafeteria. I realized that the bullet could easily have penetrated a metre or two higher and hit me, or one of the girls. When I’d finished my second lecture (and this ironically was first-year human rights) I collected my stuff and went to the car park and drove out of the college. I drove for a while, then there was shooting and an explosion and everything went crazy. I closed the car window and listened to a song, trying to fool myself that there was actually nothing to fear.

  I saw things that I can’t describe. (Later I heard on the news that people who were going on a religious sort of marathon were attacked and shot.) Anyway, I reached my district only to find that it was closed by ‘our army’. I tried another route, and another, but they were all closed. Eventually I remembered a way to get through, though it was a very long detour.

  To cut a long story short, I finally entered our area. It was peaceful – I didn’t see anything but armoured cars here and there – and as I passed the last one, they shot at me. I am sure of it, because I was the only car in the street, but they missed and I’m alive and well and had lamb chops for lunch and drank a ton of tea. Thank God.

  You asked about the militiamen. Well, Bee, they are members of the militias but they also work at government offices (especially the Ministry of the Interior, where passports are issued) and they are quite influential. As I told you, the Shi’ite government of today is made up of militiamen, and this is the serious problem facing my country.

  Oh Bee, I can’t wait to get out.

  Love to all of you with warm hugs and kisses

  May XXX

  07.03.07

  You are amazing

  I can’t believe the things you tell me. You and Ali must still both be in shock. Sometimes I feel like my emails, and indeed my life, are so silly, so trivial in comparison. I write about hanging out my washing, and you are being shot at.

  You must be extra careful for the next few days. Do you know where you will go for the tourist visa? Speak to Andy. We have to get you out as soon as possible; I just don’t know what I’d do if you got killed. It would really break my heart.

  Once you have your passports you can both get out of Iraq. Go somewhere with a British embassy, and try to get the visa. Where will you go – Jordan or Syria? Make sure you ask Andy what he thinks is best; he might know more about it. I have the documents you need from me. Tell me how I can fax them to you safely.

  There are three photocopies:

  my passport

  bank statements showing we can support you during your visit

  letter explaining our relationship and the nature of your visit.

  For your part you must prove that you plan to return – having a two-way ticket might suffice.

  We’ll make it work somehow, May.

  All my love and hugs

  B XXX

  10.03.07

  I’m worried, Bee

  Dear Bee

  One of the things that attracted my attention was that when applicants present all their documents, including those of the host, they want evidence proving that the applicant is returning back home within six months at the most. (The examples given are a letter from work saying that you are on leave, or papers proving that you have business or some private enterprise.)

  Then after that they say that it all depends on whether the visa officer is convinced that a person is really going on a visit. This brings another question to mind. Are they so simple or so ignorant as to think that a person from a war region is likely to be going on holiday at a time that is neither the holiday season nor normal in any way?

  Today I had a horrific shock. As I went to college there was a black placard mourning one of our students; she was shot by the Americans on her way home. I was so sad because she was one of the brightest students and recently married.

  WHAT DO YOU ADVISE ME TO DO, BEE?? HELP, I’M GOING MAD.

  Love you always

  XXXXX

  11.03.07

  I’m worried too

  Dearest May

  I’ve been feeling tired and a bit down lately. Maybe it’s PMT. I do find it very hard to know what to say to you sometimes – I feel quite useless. But we must find a way through.

  I love you, May.

  Bee XXX

  24.03.07

  Stay or go?

  Dearest Bee

  I am torn, but I think I must stay until July. If I leave before the end of the academic year I will lose my job, which means I can’t return home and will become a wretched beggar. We could both go to Syria and put in the visa application for a later date, then I could come back to Baghdad to work and Ali could stay there where it’s safer.

  Kisses to all of you

  May XXX

  PS Did you see the UN Secretary General’s face when he was rocked by one of the endless explosions that go on every day? He looked so scared. Maybe this will make the UN people speed up their measures towards finding a solution.

  25.03.07

  I’m on top of the world today!

  Dearest

  At last I am taking a step forward. The passports are here. I called the British Embassy in Damascus and talked to the visa section. I told them that I need a visitor’s visa for July and that I am a university professor. And I am so busy that I need to know how long it will take and how long I have to stay in Syria to obtain the visa (imagine).

  Before all this the woman who answered asked who the visa was for, and I replied, ‘For my husband and myself.’ She said, being Iraqis, we’d have to come in person to apply because they need to take our fingerprints and an iris picture, or something like that. I told her I have an invitation and a very close friend is sponsoring my visit, but she said I have to bring all these with me.

  Oh Bee, I can’t describe how I felt – it was like flying in the air, sitting at the top of a hill. Or more probably like a child opening the long-awaited Christmas surprises, because I was singing and dancing around the house with my awful voice. But what the heck? I was so happy and that’s what matters. Bee, I am now smoking a big cigar and it looks so funny but it tastes very good, and Ali is sitting next to me smoking one himself. He sends you, Justin and the girls all his love.

  How is everyone? Are the girls OK? Give them my hugs and kisses plus ONE very special kiss and hug to Eva for being so considerate and interested in my welfare.

  Don’t take long to send me one of your heart-warming emails.

  May XXX

  27.03.07

  RE: I’m on top of the world today!

  MAY, I just love the image of you singing and smoking a cigar. So you could be leaving in July! When will you go to Damascus to get the visa? How long do you think it will take? Do you have everything you need to get it? It feels like we’re one step closer to getting you out, but I wish you could leave Iraq sooner.

  It was a crazy weekend of rushing around and a lot of socializing; I feel tired now. But an amazing thing has happened. Last year Eva wrote a short story for a competition run by Daunt Books, a famous local bookshop. (Well, she spoke it out loud and I transcribed it.) Anyway, on Friday a letter came for Eva in the post. She opened it, with her serious face and her eyes all big. It was to say that she has won! Over 400 children entered. And her category is up to 9 years old (she’s only 5). It will be published in a book, and she gets to go to a poetry masterclass with the fantastic poet Adrian Mitchell.

  Elsa too has been busy. She can now crawl around at to
p speed, and can pull herself up. She goes straight for the rubbish bin and pulls stuff out. Yesterday I found her with a load of onion skins in her mouth. This morning I took her for a bike ride on the back of my bike; she has a little seat and wears a small helmet. Everyone smiles at her. Zola has developed a talent for miniature books. She sticks them together and writes in an indecipherable language and draws complicated pictures. She is quite secretive and hides her small things in little bags or socks, and puts them under her pillow or down the back of the sofa. I find Zola’s stuff, bundled up like a ritual offering, in the weirdest places.

  Love to you and Ali

  Bee XXX

  28.03.07

  The plan for Syria

  Dearest Bee

  I’ve arranged with the college to be away 15th April to 1st May so that Ali and I can go to Damascus. After that I will have to come back to Baghdad, but Ali will stay in Syria until we leave in July (I hope) because it is becoming far too dangerous for him here. I will go to see him in Damascus as much as possible. But if I get the UK visa I will then go, even if the college doesn’t give me the leave.

  May x

  30.03.07

  At work

  Hello there, lovely May

  At last things are moving – it feels good. Well done! You’ve been so active. Shame it’s still quite far away, but I can understand your timing.

  I’m back in World Service in the middle of a buzzing office with shouting people all around, a lot of familiar faces and some new ones too. Got in at 5.45 this morning – oh my God, not nice, I’m just not a morning person. Well anyway we get an hour or so to ‘read in’ and then there’s a planning meeting where we all contribute our ideas. Sometimes you can get new stories on the air, but if it’s a busy news day like today it’s more a case of reacting to circumstances and thinking of new angles on the subject, moving it on. Top story is the British sailors held hostage in Iran. People here are talking about war with Iran! Can anyone still have the stomach for war after Iraq?

  I have to go – am trying to persuade some Catholics to talk about the Pope on Monday. (Although by then I will be frolicking around on the great Yorkshire moors!)

  All my love and take care

  B X

  04.04.07

  DOOMSDAY

  Dearest friend

  Today was one of the scariest days of my life. I woke up in the morning and started to get ready for work. I put the generator on after my morning shower, and started to dry my hair. Ali was asleep. Then there was this loud banging on the front door. I called out, asking who it was, and they answered, ‘Open up – it’s the army.’

  I woke Ali up and he went downstairs, and as soon as they came in they started searching the house. I came down, buttoning up, and asked what they were looking for. They said they wanted the rest of the weapons, and we both screamed, ‘What weapons?’ The officer said, ‘The ones you’ve hidden for your neighbours.’

  We were terrified. Then Ali asked the officer to explain and he told us that they had found arms, bombs and high explosives next door. We told him that we knew nothing about them, and he could search as much as he liked. The soldiers searched a little bit then the officer ordered them to withdraw. We were also searched on Sunday, when they messed the place up. Today they didn’t take long, and the officer seemed convinced that we knew nothing.

  Then some American troops banged on the outside gate. They told us to open the windows because there was a great big bomb that they couldn’t move and they were going to detonate it on-site. They also asked us to bring the women and children next door into our house. We don’t know them. They moved into the district about eight months ago, after the previous neighbour was shot and killed outside a nearby shop.

  Anyway, they detonated the bomb. My mother has three broken windows and my brother has one, but funnily I don’t have any, though I am the one closest to the bomb.

  All I hope is that we make it to Damascus.

  xxx

  13.04.07

  We’re out!

  Dearest

  We made it. We have arrived safe (but not sound) in Damascus. I cannot describe my feelings. I am relieved to get out of hell, and a bit homesick and afraid of the unknown. Our journey lasted almost 12 hours. We arrived exhausted. Some friendly Iraqis helped us find a tiny flat with what I call shabby furniture, but they say it’s not bad for here. The Syrians are generally friendly, but not so friendly when it comes to money. Imagine this: they took $1,200 for two months’ rent, while they wrote in the contract only $100 per month. But food is not that expensive, so we’ll be OK.

  The thing is, I don’t know how long we can last like this. Oh dearest, I’m so scared. It is not a good feeling to have no one you know in a foreign country. But this is war, I suppose. (As agreed, I will ask the embassy for a visa and let you know the details.)

  OK, love, time to go. Kiss the girls for me.

  XXXX

  20.04.07

  A second hello from Damascus

  Dearest Bee

  My mood is much better now. We’ve been out for some long walks, and the country is nice and the weather is good. People are very noisy here and the flat we rented is situated in a shopping area. Shops here do not close until very late and people fill the streets all the time. But, as I said, they’re friendly and not depressed like us Iraqis. Over the last decade in Iraq it has become very rare to see people being friendly to strangers. There’s always an element of distrust enveloping all human contact. Here, at last, we can taste the beauty of peace and walk in the streets without fear of robbers, killers and all the other hazards that I’ve told you of.

  Bee, please send me more emails from now on, because I’m going to need you so much. In Syria we are all alone, and if I go back to Iraq I’ll be on my own. The idea terrifies me but I don’t show it to Ali, because he will simply return with me and will definitely be killed.

  I did not tell you how I got him out of the hands of the army when they burst into our house back in Baghdad. The officer asked for Ali’s ID. I know that men from Ali’s Sunni background are taken away, and they do not come back. So I just brought out the club membership ID which has my family name on it, and Ali’s name as husband of the member. The officer asked for proper IDs and I just said they’d been taken to get our new passports done. Thankfully the officer was convinced. But who knows what could happen next time?

  I must go now.

  May XXXX

  20.04.07

  Hello at last

  Hello there, May

  Sorry about my short response to your text this evening. There is a time from about 5 p.m. to 7.30 p.m. which is like rush hour. When your text came asking why I hadn’t written to you, Elsa was crying, Eva and Zola were fighting in the garden, and I was trying to get their dinner ready.

  Eva and Zola are back at school now so things are settling down. They’re both very happy. I didn’t tell you, but we had a bad experience a couple of weeks ago when we were up in Yorkshire. We were in the middle of nowhere, climbing around with the kids when Zola fell off an eight-foot wall (that’s two metres high); she fell off it and landed on her back. It made a sickening noise which I will never forget as long as I live. I ran to her as she lay on the ground, thinking about first-aid training, broken spines and necks and how you mustn’t move the casualty. It was a nightmare. As I got to her side I screamed, ‘Zola, can you hear me?’ She opened her mouth and let out a massive scream, so I scooped her up in my arms and lifted her. As I did she was sick all over me and herself, and then her face went grey. We carried her to the car, drove to a village pub and called an ambulance.

  She was still grey, but breathing. I was holding her and I began to shake and cry. Strangely the thought in my mind was how Zola has just been ‘promoted’ by her ballet teacher to the next class up. Anyway, the paramedics arrived and checked her all over for spinal injuries, internal bleeding, concussion etc., only to find that our little Zola was fine. Indeed, within two minutes of this she ran
off to get an ice cream with the other kids, as I stood there still shaking. May, I felt that we came so close to losing her. I felt a sick gratitude that she was OK, and so many mixed feelings about how it could have been. That night I woke in the middle of the night and kept reliving every second in my head. In the end I had to go and see her, and check her sleeping body just to make sure she was still OK.

  I know that you face this kind of closeness to death and destruction all the time in Baghdad, but for me it was new.

  I’m glad that you have got out to Syria, May. I think some normality and rest will be good for you. It is brave of you to take this step. I remember Andy saying a refugee must be prepared to lose everything. I guess you have reached that point, because you have already left. I wonder what will become of your home when you leave it behind. Will you want to return one day? What do you think you will do if/when you get to London? Justin and I can try to help you with your accommodation for up to six months, but you will have to do some work to support yourselves. Ali will have to learn English. Have you thought all of this through?

  You would have laughed if you’d seen me trying to fax the letter of invitation and documents to you. I had to keep walking past my editor to reach the fax machine, so I timed it whenever he was on the phone. I’d rustle the documents in with some newspapers and wander about like I was doing something else, then get to the fax and furiously type in the numbers again and try to send it properly. Then I’d nonchalantly saunter off in the other direction.

  Right then, dearest May, enjoy the freedoms of Damascus and have a lovely next few weeks.

  Lots of love

  Bee XX

  21.04.07

  HELP

  Dearest friend. I read your email and something between the lines has made me feel that it will be so hard. Bee, I am so grateful for all your help and your offer to accommodate us. But Bee, do you think we can support ourselves in a matter of months? Then do you think I could get a proper job? If you have time to answer me, please do. My final decision depends on you.