Talking About Jane Austen in Baghdad

by Bee Rowlatt

  As for my work, well, I have a long holiday now because the opposing sects have named different dates for the feast, and so there will be no education until all the opposing parties have enjoyed their feasts. It is really weird what is happening here, because this feast depends entirely on the rituals that are carried out in Mecca. The feast begins when the pilgrims go up a certain mountain called Arafa. They ascend the mountain and come down again. There should be no problem, because this is the decisive ritual which determines that the feast will take place on the next day.

  OK, love. Must go now. Give my hugs to the three little princesses, a big hug and a kiss to you, and my regards to Justin.

  Love you for ever and a day

  May XXX

  20.12.07

  Outburst

  May, I feel wretched: I know you are miserable and there is nothing I can do. I’ve been thinking about you a lot. I know I always say that, and it’s true, but I think about you in different ways. And at the moment I feel that somehow you need me to think about you and send you my love. I know it sounds stupid, but I can just tell that you’re not OK. And neither is Ali.

  I feel like we’ve lost momentum, we’re just stagnating. At least in the past, May, when we’ve been through crises of various kinds, it has always been dynamic in one way or another, and it seemed to be moving somewhere. But this is strange and it makes it hard for me to write to you, as I feel my words are more useless than ever.

  Anyway, I’ve just been out for a drink with a friend who is in a troubled marriage. Often our conversation turns to men: what bastards. And then I experience a secret feeling of joy and relief about Justin, and how lucky I am. But tonight I didn’t get that feeling. I didn’t tell you this, but Justin and I had the most horrible fight in Germany. It was on the first day out there and we were all waiting at the bus stop in the cold and I was grumbling, but not in a significant way. It was me and him, my dad and my brother and the girls. Justin suddenly called me a bitch in front of my father, saying to him, ‘Has she always been like this?’ I felt like I’d been slapped. I have always had a fraught relationship with my father, and I am painfully proud whenever I see him. I certainly don’t want him patting me on the back with a worried look because my husband’s just been horrible to me.

  I was mortified, May, and I’m still angry with him. I’ll admit that we are both pretty tempestuous. I’m easily as volatile as he is, and probably more annoying, BUT at least I keep it private, instead of involving other people. I just wasn’t brought up with public displays of emotion like that: with my mum and brother we are all quite respectful of each other in our own way. Justin’s from a bigger, louder family so maybe he thinks that’s OK. I can’t make sense of it. I was so very, very hurt.

  Well, for the rest of the German holiday (which was otherwise as lovely as I told you) I was in a boiling fury, and couldn’t stand the way Justin ate or talked or even breathed. Hmm, I guess it will blow over. We’re going to Dorset on Saturday and will be there for the whole festive period, during which time both our respective families will visit (separately), so let’s see how that goes.

  May, I am so very frustrated about not having anything good to cheer you up with. I feel like I have used up a small and inadequate bag of tricks, and now everything is still the bloody same as before. Exactly a year ago we were sending each other those gifts, via Andy – remember? What a year. All I can say is that I think you are lovely and I miss you. And I hope you have a huge cup of black tea and a cigarette, and your day starts well.

  All my love

  Bee XXX

  PS Elsa met ‘Father Christmas’ yesterday at a baby Christmas party, but she didn’t like him, and she cried. She’s also started dancing and singing, and can sing the whole tune of ‘Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star’. She sang it at the top of her voice today on the Northern Line of the London Underground, and a whole row of hatchet-faced Londoners actually smiled at her.

  2008

  02.01.08

  Occasions only come once a year

  Dearest friend, HAPPY NEW YEAR!

  I got your text message last night just as I was beginning to wonder what had happened to you. I imagined all sorts of things, good and bad. As I settled for bed your message came through, and I really was relieved just to hear from you and fell into a deep slumber immediately. I woke up a bit late and hurried to work. We’ve had an on-and-off holiday during the past two weeks, but the first-year students are very different this year: they’ve been attending classes even in their holidays. This is a very good sign and I sure hope that it continues, but I very much doubt that it will.

  Our area is full of armed forces. Their behaviour is unpredictable, and their reactions are largely dependent on the security situation in the district. One day they are nice and friendly, and the next day they are very nasty, but in general they are OK with women. Men usually avoid them and go out as little as possible because there always is the threat of arbitrary arrests, especially for Sunnis like Ali.

  Ali is still home; he doesn’t go out and his temper is getting worse. I try so hard to console and pamper him but the depression sometimes engulfs him. He breaks down, sobbing so hard that I stand helpless and stricken with anxiety.

  I did not write to you in the past few days because I did not want to spoil your Christmas and the fun. The problem, dear Sis, is that I’ve been told that my name is on the list of those to be assassin-ated, as are the names of many of my colleagues. Some of them have left Baghdad, others have been killed, and the rest of us wait hopelessly for something to turn up. I have asked Kate and now I am asking you: if anything happens to me please, please don’t stop your efforts to get Ali out of the country.

  How was your New Year holiday? Did you enjoy it? As for us, we spend whole afternoons watching TV. The street generator goes off at midnight and, like Cinderella, we have to retire as the clock strikes 12, otherwise we will freeze to death. We sit by candlelight or kerosene lamps, returning to the Middle Ages.

  We watched the festivities all around the world, among them Britain and the US, but we never celebrated anything, not even the al-Adha Eid. My mother bought a lamb, had it butchered and distributed the meat to the needy, and of course members of the family got their share. My share was the kidneys and liver, and I cooked them for Ali (I don’t like this part of the meat). My brother and sister went for lunch on the first day of the Eid to my mother’s; this is traditional. I fried fish, but with no batter, and I made different kinds of salads, such as Russian salad and hummus.

  There were a lot of things I wanted to tell you about but they just seem to have evaporated. I will tell you when I remember. But to be honest, we were both a bit nostalgic for our past, and you know these occasions need friendly surroundings and gatherings. Anyway it is all over now, and we don’t have to deal with it till next year – and who knows what will have happened by then?

  OK, love, must go now. I really miss you.

  Love you always

  May XXX

  04.01.08

  Tell me more

  May, that is awful. Who did you hear it from? Is it safe for you to go to work? Surely your boss will let you have time off if you can show her the list. I am worried sick. It makes me wonder whether it’s better for you to know about the list, or not to know about it and just carry on, because either way there’s nothing you can do.

  For myself I feel quite happy, but I do feel uncertain about this year. Last year was full of empty promises one way and another – not terrible, just disappointing. So perhaps this year will somehow deliver, or maybe it will offer up its own new agenda.

  For the moment I’m just focusing on the microcosm of my family. Especially Elsa, who is in such an interesting phase. She will start nursery school in June, when she’s 2. I know that that is a big step away from me and I want to enjoy this last little chapter with her. She’s become bossy and assertive (can’t think where she gets it from!) and loves copying sounds and gestures, so you can have quite a lon
g conversation with her, made up entirely of weird noises, shrugs and expressions.

  Zola is really accident-prone at the moment and has endless bumps and bruises. But she gets huge pride from her injuries and talks about them endlessly, adding a theatrical moan or a little shudder now and then. I have to go now; we have no au pair at the moment so I’m doing everything (sounds spoilt, I know) until our new one arrives. It takes me for ever to do all the laundry and cooking and tidying up and get them all to bed bla bla bla. Made some fabulous hummus yesterday, though – still eating it today.

  Oh, I still haven’t told you about Christmas etc. I will get round to it, I promise, but meanwhile PLEASE take care, dearest, and write when you can.

  A million hugs

  B XX

  04.01.08

  Life goes on

  Dearest Bumbo Bee

  How nice to hear from you and to know that there still are loving people around the world, and that life is functioning normally and children are growing up nicely. I’ve told you all our recent news. Life is just dreary and monotonous.

  I heard about the assassination list from an acquaintance, who claims to have seen boxes with lists of all the university teachers. I was discreetly told that my name is on that awful list. The instructions are to kill university teachers ‘mercilessly’. It applies not just to political activists, but also to university teachers who don’t belong to a religious sect or party, or who are termed technocrats.

  The ‘seculars’ pose a threat to the religious extremists from both sides. Believing that my name was on the list was hard to comprehend really. I spent every day of the al-Adha feast worrying and thinking of ways to escape. We are keeping a low profile as much as possible. The religious parties have imposed their ideals on the Iraqi streets as part of the new democracy. I’ve heard of horrible things happening to others, so I’ve decided to stick to the street rules. That’s why I drive to college with my hair and arms covered. In the car park the transformation takes place as I pull off my head cover and remove my long-sleeved jacket. I enter college looking my usual self.

  We have just heard about the assassination of an acquaintance and former colleague, Mohammed Al-Mayah. He had been the dean of the Mamoon University College and was previously assistant dean at our college. How is all this going to end? I am really scared and feel trapped. I’ve even given Ali instructions regarding what I want him to do after I’m dead. It didn’t feel real, telling him about bequests to certain people, and asking him to bury me in a place where there are trees, if possible.

  Anyway, life has to go on and I just hate to stay at home feeling frightened and going mad like Ali. I am scared a bit, but I don’t want to give in to this because it will ruin me, as it has one of my friends. She has stopped driving because of the threats she and her family received. We used to go out for lunches and shopping, but now she totally refuses to leave the house. I don’t want to become one of the ‘living dead’ so I still drive to work, and go shopping for food and groceries.

  Our internet connection is getting worse every day; I think it is because they are overloading it, and also because the Americans are in the area and they make it more difficult with their transmissions. Anyway, let’s move on to a better topic. I have bought two metres of black cloth, and lining to go with it. I think I will take it to a tailor (next salary) and get him to make me a pair of trousers or a skirt (which one do you think is better?) and a top to match.

  Ali just went outside to the garage and saw our neighbour at the gate. Part of their family is leaving the house. There is a rumour that there will be arrests, and if there are more than two men in a family they will take half the number. You see, I can never shift to a more lively subject. I keep returning to the same (bl… .) topic, and that is security.

  Ali is passing through a phase of self-hatred. He blames himself and tells me that it was all his fault for tying my fate to his. He says I would have been free to leave the country, and it would have been easier to get the funds, and many other depressing thoughts. I object to what he says and tell him that to me he is worth life itself, and I would never desert him for any reason whatsoever.

  Will he start cursing the hour we met and cursing the marriage that got him into such a prison? He has never said a word about it, and he still loves me and pampers me like a child, but who knows what will happen if things continue the way they are? Well, I hope I’m dead before he turns against me and decides to leave or start a life somewhere else. Today he was talking about being jobless and he said that he is prepared to do any kind of work. Then he said, ‘But all the doors shut in my face.’ I felt terrible but calmed him down with the hope of leaving for England, saying it may be sooner than we know, and adding any other optimistic statements that I could think of at the time.

  The zodiac signs for this year promise Librans a decisive year. It says they will either walk away or stay. It also promises legal proceedings.

  Time to go, love. Will write again soon.

  HUGS UNLIMITED

  May XX

  05.01.08

  Latest

  Dearest May

  Don’t worry if your writing keeps returning to the horrible themes of what surrounds you; it’s important to let it out. It’s really no wonder it preys on your thoughts so pervasively. Ali sounds in a terrible state and it’s very worrying, but his reactions are positive too: he wants to work, he wants to move on and develop. He is unable to, but that’s not his fault.

  I promised to tell you about Christmas/New Year. To be honest, my expectations were a bit low. We were in Dorset for 10 days and had loads of people coming, so I thought it would be exhausting. But it was brilliant. First my mum and Dave, and my brother and his girlfriend, and my mum’s two dogs Bella and Meg came to stay. On Christmas Day Justin cooked a fabulous meal. He was utterly charming to my family. (Remember how upset I was about that scene in front of my father in Germany? He promised never again.) Anyway, after they all left Justin’s family came: his parents Penelope and Charles, his 3 sisters and their husbands, and 10 kids. Imagine! After they had all left we spent one day on our own, and then two sets of friends came down for New Year’s Eve. We did some long walks by the sea.

  One morning we woke to hear Eva’s voice piping up outside from the garden: ‘No, it’s fine. My mum says I’m allowed to!’ I peeped suspiciously out of the window. There she was with her friend Tommy (he’s 7) and they were climbing over the back wall into the meadow. They ran far away through fields of sheep until we could hardly see them. I thought it was beautiful. They can’t do that in London; someone is always watching them and stopping them. After that, they did it every morning, coming back with bare feet and pyjamas soaked with dew.

  OH, I have to go! Justin took them all swimming this morning but they’re just arriving back so it’s all about to go mad any moment now.

  Love

  B XX

  09.01.08

  LIFE

  Dearest Bumbo Bee

  I’ve had no connection for the past few days and the service is still very bad. A lot of awful things are happening these days. One of them was that Ali’s elder brother was assassinated, and with your knowledge of Ali’s psychological state you can imagine how it has affected him.

  At first he said that he would go to see his family, and asked me what I thought. I told him that it was OK with me, as long as I had nothing to do with them. Then he changed his mind and said that he had heard something from a friend, or it may have been a relative. (I don’t really know, because all the people in Ali’s province are related to each other. They marry their cousins and their cousins’ cousins, and so on. This is part of their tribal traditions.)

  Anyway, we were just starting to get over this when we heard a news item announcing the assassination of Ali’s secondary school teacher, who had later studied for a PhD and become a university teacher. Ali broke down again, and it took me a long time to calm him down.

  The latest blow came this morning. We woke up ar
ound 10.30, and just as I was making tea and preparing breakfast a bomb exploded outside. The smoke covered the garden. It turned out that a member of the municipal council for our district had stopped by the shops near our house. Someone had planted a bomb in his car, and as soon he got into his car they blew it up and the poor man was torn to pieces. I think I will soon lose my mind; things are truly terrible. They have exceeded the limits of my comprehension.

  Why did the bloody Americans invade us? Dictatorship with security and safety is much better for civilians than the bloodthirsty democracy they have brought us. Five awful years with no sign of improvement. It is just making us lose all interest in life. There are many times when I’ve felt that the right way to end all this is by taking my own life, instead of waiting for someone else to take it when I am not prepared. I know this sounds horrible but at times I just can’t help thinking this way.

  By the way, I have found another job to get some extra income, but my work depends completely on the internet and emails. The connection is very unreliable, and I don’t know if they will tolerate this or not! I translate items for a news agency and send articles via email. They tell me which article they want, then I look it up on their website, translate it and email it to them. I went to the interview and passed the test, but since then the connection has been so bad that I haven’t been able to get a single piece of work done.

  We are supposed to have another holiday tomorrow, but they haven’t announced anything on TV yet. It is the beginning of the Hageira year (the Moslem calendar) so I don’t know if I’m supposed to be going to work or not.

  Bee, can you really comprehend what life is like for us? Do you really have a clear picture of how it is? Sometimes I think that I shouldn’t tell you these things because it is impossible for you to comprehend. I sometimes can’t comprehend, so how can you?