by Bee Rowlatt
24.05.08
A lot of distractions
Dearest Bee
This is the third attempt within half an hour. The electricity keeps going off and coming back on. I couldn’t write over the past two days and catch you before you went to Dorset because there was so much to do and a lot of repairs. The car, the generator and the computer. They took all my salary. Yesterday I spent all day from 9 until 4 cleaning the house from the impact of the successive dust storms we’ve had over the past month.
The computer keeps crashing and I am just fed up. I’ve never had such problems before Ali, because I never visit strange websites. But he does. I don’t like it and keep warning him not to do it, but he just brushes it away. There are other things annoying me, and I think I have to sort them out with him before we move on to the next step. Otherwise, life will be unbearable for both of us. I just hope he keeps his word if we agree on some changes in our life together.
I have to go now, lovely wee Sis. Hope you get my email while in Dorset and I wish you a very nice stay.
Hugs
May XXXX
25.05.08
I was the bad guy
Dearest Bee
You seem to be in outer space (Dorset). I hope you are having a great time. I just wanted to tell you that yesterday’s computer crash wasn’t Ali’s fault, but the news agency’s. They kept denying it and telling me the sites I needed could be accessed from my computer. Poor Ali was a total wreck after I finished lecturing him about indecent sites and computer viruses, then he blew his top and said, ‘Won’t you stop! I don’t go into such sites; I did when I was first introduced to this technological miracle, then I stopped. So SHUT UP!’
I shut up but kept grumbling, and then my colleague called and said he was also having problems. I felt so ashamed of myself and had to apologize (a thing I hate doing).
We talked about my fears and about how he must change some of his habits when we get to the UK, such as getting slim, studying and working even if the job is menial. He gave me his word, so I went to bed feeling happy and quite reassured.
I’ll go now, as I have just finished work.
Love you always
May XXX
27.05.08
Apology to Hemingway
Dearest Bee
I just got your text message. Lovely Elsa will be 2 tomorrow! Her birthday marks the age of our friendship. We’ve been through some difficult times together, haven’t we?
I was thinking about Hemingway. My feelings for the novella’s main theme have changed. ‘A man can be destroyed but not defeated’ is the theme of The Old Man and the Sea. My pre-invasion reading of the novella used to boost my morale. I thought of all the encouraging statements that could incite the desire to resist the oppressive life that Iraqis lived during the 1990s and early 2000s. But in my post-invasion reading, Hemingway’s words are no longer effective. I feel silly trying to teach things I do not feel. It seems futile trying to inject these young women with passion and resilience, while everything around them is a wasteland. What future awaits them, or me for that matter?
The whole society has been faked. People fake their names, qualifications, backgrounds – and even religious beliefs are subject to counterfeiting. I feel an apology is due to Hemingway because I am no longer capable of teaching his theme of honourable struggle and engagement with life. The successive blows dealt to humanity in Iraq have taught man to accept defeat to the point of gladly destroying himself. It is rather funny how the same words can ignite two such opposite feelings and reactions in one person at different times.
Will have to go now, lovely Bee. I know you are still in Dorset and can’t read this immediately, but you are so very near even when you are away.
Love
May XX
28.05.08
A soggy greeting from Dorset
Dearest May
I’ve missed you such a lot since getting down here and not being able to write. Right now I’m on Justin’s laptop, sitting in a café in Swanage and looking out at the pouring rain. It’s my only chance to drop you a line! His computer is an Apple and v annoying so sorry for all the typos.
You seem to have found an optimistic core in Hemingway that you feel is disproved by life in today’s Iraq. But May, you mustn’t let Iraq be the prism through which you see humanity forever more. Do you think you’ll ever let go of the fear? I have to say Ernest Hemingway has never been my cup of tea. I don’t much enjoy those macho American writers, Norman Mailer, Cormack McCarthy etc. But Hemingway did once say a very good thing about writing: it should be done as though you are sending a telegram i.e. limited, as though paying for every word. That will mean nothing to the generation who don’t know what a telegram was, who can burble infinite words around the world for free (= our relationship, haha.) However, it’s a style tip I admire even if I don’t always follow it.
Elsa’s birthday has been a bit of a washout, with persistent grey rain from the moment we woke up. However, we made a fuss of her and she enjoyed opening the presents: we got her a small pink scooter that she’s just starting to learn to balance on, J’s parents got her a posh teddy bear and we also got her a very pretty dress. She’ll have another little birthday party when we’re back in London so I’ll do the cake and candles etc. then.
Have to go now, sorry. Am thinking of you lots.
Bee XXX
31.05.08
Depressing TV
Dearest friend
I just had to write to you and tell you. At this very minute Ali and I are in tears because of what we saw on TV. You just can’t imagine what is happening to Iraqis abroad. Just five minutes ago they showed a former Iraqi officer of high rank. This man is now very sick and needs an operation. He is appealing for people to help cover the expenses of his operation in Syria. His daughters are with his relatives in Baghdad because he can’t feed them. The room he lives in with his wife is practically empty. There is nothing in it, Bee, nothing but a thin mattress. There is no carpet, no television, no fridge, nothing. They haven’t been able to talk to their daughters over the phone because they haven’t enough money, so the TV network gave them credit and the wife called the girls and as soon as one of the little girls picked up the phone the mother burst into heavy sobs and couldn’t continue and gave the phone to the father, who in turn burst into tears.
You ask about fear. I’ve been scared even of my own shadow since 1975 when we moved back to Iraq. I have always tried to be extra nice to everyone, just in case they had connections or might unjustly accuse me of one thing or another. Sometimes I start imagining all kinds of things, and scaring myself to the point of a breakdown. I ask myself – we haven’t done anything wrong, so why the fear? I don’t know if it will ever leave us.
Oh, I am deeply moved and exhausted by the sights I see on TV. Can’t the peoples of the world extend a hand to help end our people’s misery? Can’t people just go back home and live in peace? Unending misery seems to be everywhere. I was at the market area the other day. It has changed so much. It used to be a posh market that sold only high-quality and expensive imported things. The streets used to be clean and the cars parked at the sides were mostly German and Swedish. Now most of the old shops are either closed or have been sold off. The stalls on the pavements sell cheap glittery things and the sellers are clearly very poor, and quite probably work for richer dealers.
As I walked through the stalls an old man standing by his stall begged me to buy a girl’s cream sleeveless dress with a short-sleeved top to go with it. He looked at me so pleadingly and when he said, ‘I haven’t sold a thing since early morning and maybe my luck will change if you buy from me,’ I took it, even though I had nobody to give it to.
As I drove out of the car park with the things in the carrier bags a man in his early forties ran after me asking me to stop (I know it is dangerous nowadays, but I just couldn’t help it). He told me that his wife was undergoing an operation to remove a cancerous tumour and he needed help. I gav
e him some money and he broke into tears saying that he had five girls to look after. I asked him how old his daughters were – he said the eldest was 17 and when I asked about the youngest he said 6, so I pulled the cream dress out and gave it to him. He was so happy and in my heart I felt that all this was planned by God to help this man. I am glad I could help him even a little bit, but I wish I could have done more.
Well, I just wanted to tell you that the problem is not just that of May and Ali, it is the problem of millions of people who just want some space to breathe.
Must go now, love.
MAY XXX
02.06.08
Catch-up
Hello, I’m back. Sad to read your latest emails. Who knows how far and wide the effects of the war will go on? How do you get a civil society back, once it’s been blown apart? The feelings of injustice can carry on for generations. It is bleak.
I got your text saying Kate’s been in touch about the documentation, so that’s good. Can I send any money via Western Union? No doubt it’ll cost you to do anything once you’re over the border, and I understand you have to pay a considerable sum to the embassy just to make the visa application in the first place. So let me know if there’s anything you need.
The holiday was just right, and I’m still basking in the afterglow. It takes a day or two to get into the rhythm of doing things together as a family and getting the pace right, but then it was quite relaxing. Each morning the girls crept downstairs secretly and made their own breakfasts. We did some long walks to beaches and Elsa always insisted on taking off all her clothes and her nappy, then running into the sea (just like her dad – but without the nappy!). My friend Terka came down with her family for a few days, and we went on steam trains and ate crab by the sea. Basically we did everything that you should do on an English holiday, apart from get rained on (the only rain was Elsa’s birthday when I wrote you that email from Swanage). The girls scraped their knees, fell in bushes, fell in mud, fell in rock pools and got covered in sand almost every day.
On Sunday we did a little party for Elsa. It wasn’t like a usual kids’ party with loads of toddlers milling around, as she hasn’t really got any friends her own age. It was more like an Elsa Appreciation Society, just a few friends and neighbours all making a fuss of her. We opened champagne that I’d been given when she was born and have been saving ever since (Elsa had a little taste). I’d made a chocolate and cherry cake covered in jam, we sang to her and she blew out her candles very graciously. Eva squeaked out a rendition of ‘Happy Birthday to You’ on the violin. All very charming.
Feels good to write to you again; I missed you when we were away and kept describing things to you in my head.
Hope you’re feeling well.
Love always
Bee XX
02.06.08
Two frights in a row
Dearest
Hope all is well. So nice to know that you’re back and I can write and you will see my email the same day, or the next day at the latest.
Today and yesterday were shocking. I received two frights that really upset me. Yesterday morning I was getting ready for work, putting make-up on with probably my sixth cigarette burning away in the ashtray on the dressing table. I heard Ali shouting at me to cover myself, because the army were in the house. So I put on a robe, buttoned it up and came downstairs to find the house full of soldiers. There was a raid and search campaign in our area. Some went upstairs and opened the cupboards, looking at our clothes, while another opened the storeroom door. They searched drawers, looked into the kitchen pots and even our unmade bed. Then one of them asked if we had weapons and I said, ‘Yes, kitchen knives.’ He looked at me, then apologized for the inconvenience, gathered the others and left.
They woke my mother and asked her if she had any weapons. Coincidentally she also said, ‘Yes,’ and then held her walking stick up for the soldiers to see, telling them that this stick could break bones if needed. They laughed. Can you just imagine? An old woman without her dentures talking about beating the soldiers with a stick! I think a sense of humour is a blessing in these circumstances because it relieves the tension.
The second shock was today, and this really gave me the fright of my life. As I was working at the computer my friend called; we talked about college, the possibility of a pay increase and the department’s problems. While I was chattering away Ali called for help and collapsed on the ground. He hadn’t fainted; his eyes were open but he wasn’t breathing. I ran to the kitchen, brought some sugar and pushed it into his mouth but he remained motionless. I slapped his face hard but he was just like a stone, except with his eyes open. Oh God, I thought he might be paralysed.
I put a long-sleeved shirt on and went outside to call for my mother. She left her pharmacy and came running. She pressed his chest so hard, and he came back to us. Life returned to him just as I was trying to find someone to get him a doctor (as you know, hospitals are out of the question). I gave him orange juice and he recovered fast. My mother says it is psychological, but whatever the reason I was really scared.
The final exams start next Sunday. I have been asked to set three different versions, and a committee will choose the one for the final exam. Even the teachers will not know which one is to be used (this measure is new – I think they are trying to combat corruption).
OK, lovely, I will go now because I am so sleepy. Good night and thank you for your offer of help. I will of course seek your help if I am broke. But for the time being I am OK and managing well.
Hugs
May XXX
03.06.08
RE: Two frights in a row
May! I’m worried about Ali. That attack sounds scary. I’ve been thinking how hard it will be for him here; it will take a while for you both to feel relaxed but it’ll be so much easier for you than for him. But there are loads of Arabic speakers here in the UK and I’m sure he’ll make friends after a while. I just wonder about adapting to a whole new culture and all that this entails. I bet you will notice big differences since you were last here, and not just higher prices for ice creams and fish and chips! What are you most looking forward to?
I can’t stop thinking about the next stage and how it will all go. But then sometimes I get annoyed with myself for thinking about the future too much. As if life always seems to be focused just around the corner, or perhaps in the middle of next year. It must mean losing something from the present moment. There has to be an ideal ratio of time spent thinking about the past, present and future.
Talking of nostalgia, it’s Justin’s birthday on the weekend and I’ve just decided what to get him: I’m going to get the girls’ portraits done (photos), wearing these amazing ancient old dresses we found at Justin’s dad’s. Apparently they were his grandmother’s and are hand-made exquisite lacy children’s dresses – fragile like cobwebs, should probably be in a museum. It gave me the idea to have their photos done and so we’re going this afternoon. I just hope the girls cooperate. They may be able to look like Victorian beauties but their behaviour might not live up to the same standards.
OK, lovely May, have a good one.
Love
Bee XX
05.06.08
Dreams of freedom
Dear Bumbo Bee
I hope you are all well. Ali is fine. I don’t really know what it was, but it’s gone now. Real Iraqi summer began with the advent of June. It is over 40 degrees centigrade and movement outside the house is an ordeal. The air conditioner in my car doesn’t work and can’t be fixed. A friend of Ali’s broke it by fidgeting with the air vents in the car. The frame slipped inside the duct and fell under the button which changes from heating to cooling, and we are now stuck with hot air. So driving is a very tiring business.
But today was not so tiring because I didn’t go to university, and the news items to translate were rather short and easy so I did my share and retired 45 minutes early. We had tea, cream, jam and biscuits and I think I ate more than I really should have, but
they tasted lovely and I just couldn’t stop until the teapot was empty. I kept pouring tea (no sugar) and eating away at the cream and jam etc.
As for the changes I will find in the UK, I know for certain that they will not be in the things I miss. I miss freedom of movement, expression, freedom to to wear whatever I like, sit on a bench in a park, visit a museum, a cinema probably. But what about smoking? Where can one smoke? Can we smoke in a café or in the park? It worries me to think about having to limit my beloved cigarettes.
I dream of renting a bicycle on a quiet Sunday morning and cycling for as long as I can. Do you know that women never cycle here? It is out of the question and even considered obscene. I used to cycle with my friend Susan McLeod back in the 1970s. We would go from Glasgow to a loch outside the city, passing breweries on the way, and then sit for a while before cycling back. I remember a sign saying ‘An Apple A Day Keeps The Doctor Away’. I feel nostalgic for these little freedoms and the blessing of non-interference.
Love you always
May
05.06.08
Filthy cigs
Oh dear, May, you’re in for a shock: it’s hard to light up anywhere in the UK now. It’s been banned from pubs, clubs, workplaces and anywhere serving food. People mostly cluster outside on the streets to do it, even in the rain. I’m sorry to say that I’ve become one of those censorious types; I scowl at people flicking their ash anywhere near Elsa (in her buggy she’s just at cigarette height). It started when I was pregnant and could smell smoke at 50 paces, and I’ve never liked it since. As a teenager, I sometimes nicked them off people if I was drunk. I never bought my own, and boasted about not being addicted. Looking back, I can see that wasn’t especially endearing of me. Justin was a massive smoker for around 20 years (he was renamed Justin Roll-up), but gave up before we met. I promise I’ll try to be tolerant of your smoking, though. After all, if anyone deserves to light up, it must be you.
