Talking About Jane Austen in Baghdad

by Bee Rowlatt

  It is so hot now in Damascus. Can you imagine? It is now 45 degrees centigrade – like a really hot oven. So much for escaping the heat of Baghdad.

  Love you always, lots of hugs to you and the girls

  May XXX

  PS I can’t write very often because I don’t have a computer. I go to the internet café and sometimes it is very busy and I can’t find a place. But I swear you are always on my mind and in the centre of my heart.

  10.06.07

  Hurray for CARA!

  Hello, dear baked potato in the slow oven of Damascus.

  I didn’t know CARA had the resources to do this; I am so happy that they can help you to stay on there for longer. What a reprieve for you and Ali. I hope you feel you can relax and enjoy life away from the Baghdad horrors for a longer time.

  The surprise party was great. I had all J’s friends in on it, and one of them took him out for the day. I told Justin I was having some girlfriends round, so he would secretly want to escape. It took me all day to get it ready; at about 8 p.m. people started arriving and I hid them in the garden. Justin got back home at about 8.30 and everyone cheered when he came in. There was lots of dancing and the celebrations went on late. Very, very late. Right at the end Justin admitted to me that one of his friends had in fact let it slip (I now hate this man for ever) so he’d known all along that something was happening! Can’t tell you how annoying that was. Doing a secret party is so much work, I don’t think I’ll ever do it again. But I’m glad I did it.

  These next few weeks are going to be pretty mad, May, and I might not be able to write so often. There’s Eva’s birthday, Glastonbury Festival for the weekend, then the school Summer Fair, and the day after that we’re leaving for our big summer holiday in Colombia. I just keep on frantically writing lists – and lists of lists – to get everything done.

  Good night, May. Hope you can sleep in that crazy heat.

  Take care

  B XXX

  27.06.07

  Festival madness

  How are you, May? I hope you’re OK.

  What a bizarre weekend. We went to Glastonbury. Normally that would be great news as it was a sold-out event and Justin was invited as a speaker (Ethical Man strikes again). But it rained and rained and rained, and then rained some more. The whole thing turned into a mudbath. We, like everyone else, were camping, and our tent was totally brown with mud inside and out. It got so bad we couldn’t actually put Elsa down anywhere on the ground, not even while we were trying to eat. Her buggy sank into the mud over the wheels and was totally clogged up, and the mud went over the tops of the girls’ wellington boots and they got upset, and then Eva got blisters.

  Eva’s blisters were the last straw, so I said it was time to leave. We left early on Saturday instead of on the Sunday, and then watched the rest of the festival on TV, thinking, ‘Thank God we’re not there any more!’ Strangely enough the kids loved it, though (apart from the blisters); it was funny and unreal and they saw some very strange sights.

  It is a point of meaningless pride to me that my mum took me to Glastonbury when I was only six. The date was 07.07.77 and all the hippies were going mad about this cosmic-sounding calendar moment. I distinctly remember lots of naked people and a man sharing out muesli from a giant communal cauldron. So it was touching to be there again, 30 years later, with my own 6-year-old girl.

  When we got back I had to do four laundries in a row, and chisel the dried mud off all our boots, Elsa’s buggy, the backpacks and the tent. I was in a bad mood that day. The rain hasn’t stopped since, though, and have you seen on the news? Parts of the country are totally flooded. Maybe it’ll make people think about climate change and the planet. Or maybe not.

  What about you, May? I hope you’re OK. Are you busy? Write soon – I hope I get to hear from you before we leave. We’re going on Sunday to Colombia for three weeks, but I’m taking my mobile phone so I’m still contactable.

  Big hugs and love to you

  Bee XXX

  20.07.07

  Calling London. Are you there?

  Hi, my lovely friend

  Are you back? I long to hear from you and keep checking my emails but you must be still in Colombia. It will be good to be able to talk to you properly by email.

  By the way, I sent Kate from CARA my documents and she said that she would try to find me a PhD acceptance at a university. She has also written to my supervisor and a couple of friends, asking for recommendations, and has asked me if she can request a recommendation from you. I said of course, when you are back from Colombia. Who knows, it may just help.

  Anyway, I have to go now. Send me pictures of you and the LOVELY nieces of mine in Colombia, and say hello to Justin.

  Love you always

  May XXXXX

  PS A man is taking a walk in Central Park in New York. Suddenly he sees a little girl being attacked by a pit bull terrier. He runs over and starts fighting with the dog. He succeeds in killing the dog and saving the girl’s life. A policeman who was watching the scene walks over and says, ‘You are a hero – tomorrow you can read it in the newspapers: Brave New Yorker saves life of little girl!’ The man says, ‘But I’m not a New Yorker.’ ‘Oh, then it will say in the newspapers: Brave American saves life of little girl,’ the policeman answers. ‘But I’m not an American,’ says the man. ‘Oh, what are you then?’ The man says, ‘I’m from Iraq!’

  The next day the newspapers say: ‘Islamic extremist kills innocent American dog.’

  27.07.07

  Back among the raindrops

  MAY!

  Well, we got back from Colombia two days ago. It was epic. I savoured every moment – every sight, sound and smell reminded me why I fell in love with the place. Apart from my personal nostalgia and catching up with important friends, it was also a perfect family trip. Eating weird fruits, snorkelling among coral reefs, horse riding. Eva’s godfather Emilio has a huge coffee farm where we spent a dazzled week. Words can hardly describe it; the air is full of flowers and brightly coloured birds. We went to a wedding in Medellín. My friend Maria Clara who’s Catholic married a Jewish man; it was a beautiful mixture of both ceremonies. And of course a lot of lounging around in hammocks with rum-based cocktails.

  Her Majesty Elsa became royalty over in Colombia; everyone went just crazy over her curly blonde hair and blue eyes, but the problem is that now she waves at every person she sees in the street, expecting the same level of attention. Today I put all three girls in the bath and sprinkled them with fresh pink rose petals from the garden. I call it a goddess bath. Elsa tried to eat the petals.

  Well, I can’t wait to hear all your news, May, and great news about CARA. You must tell me more. What did Kate say? What have you been doing, and how is Ali?

  Lots of love and hugs to you

  Bee XXX

  11.08.07

  CARA

  Dear dear Bumbo Bee, my lovely friend

  I could be dreaming but I’m keeping my fingers crossed. Kate arranges fellowships, which are placements at universities. She tells me if all goes well I could do my PhD at the University of Bedfordshire. I would be coming on a student visa, and Ali could come too. I don’t know how long it would take to organize, though. She cannot promise anything but I am sure she will do her best. CARA have been helping academics since the 1930s so I trust their judgement.

  CARA says the university fees are covered but mentions a figure of £30,000 for living costs for the three years of my PhD. As students we are allowed to do some part-time work too. Do you think it can happen?

  I’m so happy to hear about my lovely Elsa. It is absolutely fascinating. This baby means such a lot to me; I love her so much, and you of course and the girls. Must go now.

  Love and kisses for them all

  May xx

  14.08.07

  Latest news

  My dear May

  This news from CARA is the best thing yet and it’s hard not to get all my hopes up again. I’m trying to think of
ways we can raise the rest of the money and I wonder if an interview with you, a news item or an article would help with this. I don’t know.

  What’s it like out there? Have you settled in, or made any friends? Do you feel in any way a bit more at home in Damascus? Write soon. I love to hear the latest. Am feeling quite out of touch with you…

  B x

  04.09.07

  Missing

  Hello, my bonnie wee sister

  We live in an area that is overpopulated with Iraqis. Syrians are a minority here. It is inhabited by the Iraqi ex-middle class. Most of them are Sunni and many are a bit prejudiced, but only in thought and not in action. The flat I live in is situated in the middle of a marketplace and is very noisy. The furniture is shabby and worn out. It is very small but it has the basics, such as a washing machine and an iron. The plates we eat off are plastic and broken. We’ve bought two or three cups (for our tea!) and some new plastic plates and things like that. The heater is old but part of it works and that’s the important thing.

  Life is monotonous, as you can imagine. To be honest, Bee, I am safe but not very happy. I miss my life. I even miss the streets, pavements and the destroyed city. (It is my home.) I miss my bed, my books, my china. Oh Bee, I even miss the bombs. I feel so lonely, and so out of touch, but I guess this is what war is all about.

  The internet café here is always overcrowded with people, mostly Iraqis trying to get in touch with their families, and it is heartbreaking to see the separated families reconnecting through the internet. By the way, Bee, I can’t write as often as I used to because I hate standing in long queues just to get hold of a computer, and while I’m waiting it hurts to watch how miserable the once comfortable Iraqis have become.

  Tell me, how are the lovely girls? News of them keeps me going.

  May XXXXX

  16.09.07

  Your nieces

  My dear May

  I’m so sorry you’re missing home. I thought so. Oh, it’s all so sad. I don’t know what to say. So here is some news of your nieces. I hope it helps. Elsa is impossibly lovely now, May. People just love her when they see her, and I think she really is the happiest baby I’ve ever met. Her world is a place where everyone loves her and everything tastes nice – can you imagine such a life? Eva is happy at school and bursting with energy. But Zola is very tired at the moment; sometimes after school she runs upstairs and hides in her room saying she wants ‘some peace and quiet’, and if I knock and go quietly in she will have created a miniature world out of all her dolls and bears, all very intricate. Perhaps she misses being the baby of the family. I think I should get more exclusive time with Zola so she doesn’t feel left out.

  OK, May. I’ll write again soon.

  HUGS BXXX

  18.10.07

  Back after a mad week

  Hi, May

  All the emails I’ve written, sitting here at the end of the wooden table facing towards the small apple tree in the garden. One day you will join me in this kitchen and I’ll make us tea. You like it black with sugar, don’t you? I like milk no sugar.

  Anyway, May. We need to have a chat about the plans. I am a bit worried about the financial backing that will be needed to support your fellowship at the University of Bedfordshire. Justin and I can write the letter of recommendation and could borrow enough money to show the necessary bank statements. But I am going to be blunt, May: we simply cannot afford just to give you and Ali £30,000. You will need to pay rent and food. Ali can’t speak English. Would he be prepared to do unskilled work? The minimum wage here is £5.52 an hour. Are you prepared to take on any extra work as well as your PhD? The fact is, I know neither of you have done anything like this before, because of your backgrounds. You probably won’t be very good at it. But you must think very hard about this. You can’t expect to get everything for free, May. You will be getting the PhD for free but you will also have a lot of hard work to do to support yourself and Ali.

  Sorry to put it like this, but I feel I need to. Do you understand? I hate talking about money (I’m very English in that regard).

  Loads of love and hugs to you, May

  Bee XXX

  21.10.07

  Good intentions

  Lovely Bee

  I’ve imagined us sitting drinking tea after so long a wait. I’ve also imagined the girls playing around us and calling me Aunty May. By the way, my tea is black as you correctly guessed, but without sugar. I only take sugar when I mix it with milk – crazy, ha?

  Now let’s become serious, Bee. You are quite right, but I really do not expect to get things for free. Ali, for example, is still young and says that he is prepared to work 18 hours a day to keep us both, but I worry if he can do this after what he has been through? Maybe he would break down, and become more of a burden than help??

  These are not good intentions, dearest Sis, but facts. Am I prepared to work very very hard and study for a PhD? Easier said than done (taking into consideration my age and the amount of suffering I’ve been through). I know that at least one of us will have to work, even with the presence of the fund, because of the high cost of living in the UK. But at least we will be secure to some extent and will not die of cold and hunger. Tell me if you understand my point.

  I have realized from your emails that it is very expensive to live in the UK. I need to know how much it would cost to live there modestly. Bee, I have never, ever expected you to take responsibility for us, because it is out of the question. You have helped us more than enough already.

  Must go now. See you in another email.

  May XXXX

  22.10.07

  Intentions aren’t enough

  May, you have already been told how much it costs to live modestly in the UK: that was the figure CARA gave of £30,000 for both of you for three years. So the university estimates £10,000 a year. There is student accommodation, which is quite cheap but not free, and basically this is the figure we are looking at.

  Justin and I would have to borrow the entire amount in order to show that kind of money in our bank account. Naturally Justin is worried that if you two became unable to pay your rent for whatever reason, then the university would send debt collectors straight round to us, because we guaranteed your visa. I want to explain it properly, as it’s a worry for us, but I’m not saying it’s an insurmountable obstacle. There must be a way to do this, I just know it.

  But I’m not sure I completely understand you: you have answered my questions (and I know they weren’t nice or polite questions) with more questions of your own, such as whether Ali can work ‘after what he has been through’. And can you be expected to work and do a PhD given your age and the suffering? Well, May, the fact is you will not have a choice. There are people who have been through even worse than you, and they still have to work and support themselves. That is the stark reality.

  You mention ‘the presence of the fund’ but, May, there IS NO FUND. Your university fees are being waived but there is NO MONEY on top of that. Don’t you understand? So what is the alternative? Perhaps Ali might be allowed to stay in Damascus and find some work there, and you could try to visit him every month? That may be a possibility, and it could be less frightening in some ways, but there is the personal risk for your own safety.

  Once again a pretty unpleasant email and again I’m sorry about this. May, you know I love you and only want things to work out happily, but I just have to make all of this as clear as I can to you, and I wouldn’t be a good friend if I didn’t say things because they’re uncomfortable to say.

  Bee XXX

  23.10.07

  Honesty

  Dear Bee

  You are my best friend and I am really grateful for your honesty with me because it shows that you are really worried about my well being. I think maybe I did not understand how the supporting fund works.

  Love

  MAY XXXXXX

  23.10.07

  RE: Honesty

  Hi, dearest. Sorry I got cross. It’s bee
n a crap week for me and the children being ill and everyone (well, nearly) at the BBC getting the sack. They’re cutting costs by making people redundant and it makes the atmosphere horrible. Anyway, CARA are quite clear: they say that the university will cover your fees, but: ‘We still need to get together sufficient funds to support you and your husband in the UK over that period.’

  The funds Kate is talking about is that £30,000 that we do not have. We still don’t know where to get it from, but without it you will not get the visa. That’s what is worrying me so much. WE WILL THINK OF SOMETHING.

  I’m at work today and tomorrow I’m taking the girls up to York on the train to see my mum until Saturday. Will be back in touch next week when I get back.

  Take care meanwhile.

  Hugs

  Bee XXX

  03.11.07

  A bit of explanation

  Dear Bee

  I have been thinking about what you said, and I can see how you might wonder how I have suffered. I want you to try and understand that as Iraqis (leaving out private and personal pain) many years have worn us down. Ever since my family returned to Iraq in the 1970s nothing has been easy or smooth; we’ve been in and out of problems for so long that I think we have forgotten how to live in a normal manner.

  Twenty-two million of us (or maybe more) need rehabilitation. I used to joke about it back in the 90s. I remember telling a psychiatrist friend, ‘Doctor, we need 22 million beds all the way from Kurdistan in the north to Kuwait in the south.’

  You have to understand our background. The people awoke one September morning in 1980 to find we were at war with Iran. All that can be said about the eight-year-long war is that it was an emotional nightmare for most Iraqis. With men at the front, women shouldered all the burdens and responsibilities. And this was nothing compared to the fear and anxiety engulfing families with at least one male in the military services.