by Bee Rowlatt
12.08.08
Plenty of time to reflect
Dearest Bee
Nothing, so far, about ‘name correction’. So apart from eating, I have really plenty of time to fret, worry, curse and become angry, or reflect, just to feel alive. I haven’t been out of the house since the day I went to get the visa papers. I feel choked.
I was listening to a popular song that talked about Iraq’s plight and the wretched situation we have reached. A sentence starting with ‘Before…’ stopped me (meaning, of course, before the invasion) ‘… we never forgot our dead no matter how many years passed… whereas today we bury them in the morning and forget all about them by the afternoon.’
This moved me, and I began to reflect on all the deaths that have taken place and how we feel less and less affected. We used to criticize the West for being so very practical – how they would come back from the burial service and have drinks and a gathering that slowly changes into a party as alcohol begins to take its effect.
Now the traditions here are also changing, though not so dramatically. What the song says is true to some extent.
I’ve noticed that women no longer wear black for years and years in mourning for their husbands. Back in the 1970s, my mother was regarded as a bit unconventional because she wore black for only THREE years, while some of my uncles’ wives never took it off, and others wore it till their elder sons got married. Taking it off is an indication that a new man now runs the household. Now most widows are fairly young, 18–20 (around 1.5 million women have been widowed since the invasion) and I’ve come to notice that a one-year maximum for wearing black has become very common. I’ve realized that the continuous wars and countless deaths are behind the changes – and this is true in all societies.
I think it was the First and Second World Wars that caused all the social changes in Europe, and now we are going through the same sort of change. But the difference lies in the terms ‘invader’ and ‘invaded’. I dread the impact on our society because 1.5 million young widows means at least 3 million orphans, with no state to care for them or proper social security and education.
Well, back to the song, which also talks about not being able to distinguish thieves from authority because they intermingle (the song says they wear the same uniforms, hinting at the militias that have joined the government, police and armed forces.) I’ll leave you at this point to make some tea. Hope you’re enjoying your stay in France.
I miss you, my friend.
Love as always
May XXX
19.08.08
Back to sort-of-normal
May, I’m back.
But it’s just that I can hardly bear to write to you. It’s not your fault, but the words are too heavy. There’s no lightness; I tend to hit a slough like this when we have repeated obstacles and no movement. I know I can’t cheer you up, and I’m almost certain there’s no good news from your end, just more waiting and desperation. I keep thinking that I should write to you, but I find it so hard to do. But anyway, I guess I’ll just plod on and tell you the latest from this end, if that’s what you want to hear.
We got back from our holidays two days ago. In the end, we had to flee the bad weather in France and return to Germany early. I just couldn’t stand for Zola’s birthday to be a rainy day stuck inside a cold house. So we drove the six hours back to Freiburg, where it was much warmer and we finally got some sun. Zola’s birthday was brilliant. We went to Europa-Park, which is the German answer to Disneyland – only much more charming. Zo went on her first roller coaster. She began by crying with fear then suddenly started laughing halfway round, then declared it to be the best thing she’d ever done. We had hot dogs and a cake with her name on.
Elsa has a new habit: she does a huge loud burp, then looks around, grinning, for everyone’s reaction. She did it in a quite elegant restaurant in France; we were surrounded by smartly dressed elderly couples, quietly eating their lunch. Elsa let out a roaring eructation, and there was a moment of hush. A few people looked our way and I can only imagine that they blamed Justin for it, for who would suspect a blonde little angel? Now known as ‘Elsa the Belcher’. Eva learned to dive and spent hours diving with Justin. She also went head first down a slide into a swimming pool, and chipped off half of her front tooth – an adult tooth, not one of the baby ones. We’ll have to get it fixed. But luckily it didn’t hurt her, and though we were shocked we tried to make light of it, saying, ‘It’s perfect for drinking through a straw.’
It’s feeling like autumn today. I’m at work now and just getting ready to leave. It’s been quite a busy day and I love it.
How are you?
Hugs
Bee XX
20.08.08
Iraqi corpse obtains visa
Lovely friend
First of all, I am glad that you are back; and second, sorry I am making you feel bad; and third, I hope Oma recovers soon.
I know how you feel about writing. Yes, it is difficult in such circumstances. I’ve written several emails but didn’t send them. I just recorded my feelings. I deleted some, saved others as drafts, then deleted these too. What can I say, and how can I describe it?
Putting it bluntly, I FEEL AWFUL.
I feel that my life is on the verge of collapse. The curtains will finally close on the most beautiful and strangest love story in the Middle East. There is an enormous emotional conflict between my heart and my brain. I usually follow my brain with no trouble at all. I normally cry for a couple of days, take a pill or two, have some extra sleep and then begin again, starting from scratch.
It is very difficult this time. I’ve been suffering for the past two months. I look at Ali and the tears just roll down my face; I can’t seem to curb my emotions. I also catch him crying discreetly sometimes, and when we bring up the subject of having to separate, we just burst into tears. I really don’t know what to do. If I wait much longer my visa might expire, and the Jordanians are so unpredictable. If I leave Ali behind, it is too hazardous for him to follow me on his own. I think this Jordanian clerk has destroyed us with his mistake.
I’ve just heard a heartbreaking story. It made me think again about just how deeply we Iraqis have been degraded by US democracy. We are like human garbage and wait to be accepted, after long delays, into the ‘Holy Land of Jordan’.
I was moaning to one of my colleagues about the delays and spelling mistakes that had occurred during the visa process, and how I have reached the point of hating myself and cursing the day I was born. Out of sympathy she told me the most tragic story. She said that a young Iraqi physician, who had graduated top of his class, was threatened with assassination, so his family sent him to work in Libya. This summer he wanted to travel home to see his family during the holidays. This required having to apply for a Jordanian transit visa. After three months of waiting he was refused entry and the poor man had to stay where he was, forgetting all about the family reunion. But it seems that fate had other plans for him, because he was electrocuted and died in an accident. When his family applied for a visa in order to transport the body home for burial in Iraq, Jordan granted the corpse an entry visa without any delay.
Oh Bee, I am exhausted. I think I will wait another one or two days, then decide what to do.
May XXXX
21.08.08
The last day
Dearest Bee
Right. Today is the last day of waiting as, in a matter of hours, we will know if something can be done or not. If not, I think I will have to enter Jordan and wait for Ali there, in case my visa expires. I have to get things moving or else everything we’ve worked so hard for over the past two years will go down the drain. By Saturday, or Sunday at the latest, I think you will receive better news from my side. Don’t worry – I won’t let you down, I promise.
I did try to get things moving via Beirut, but you remember how strongly it was recommended that we wait for the Jordanian visa. Well, I can’t say any more now, love. See you in another email (h
opefully not from here).
Love you always
May
21.08.08
‘The darkest hour is before dawn’
We just have to not go mad, that’s all we can do. I called Kate yesterday; she was out of the office but I’ll try again. I know you must feel that after all this you probably should have gone to Beirut when you had the chance, but let’s just keep looking forward. In a way, it’s reassuring still to have Beirut as Plan B, if Jordan proves utterly futile.
I feel that it’s all going to be OK, you know, May. A great friend of mine said a lovely thing this week. It’s my friend Terka, who takes a great interest in you. She’s gone back to work after her recent maternity leave and her office is near here, so we met up for lunch. She asked about you and I was all despondent and angry. She said: ‘They say the darkest hour is before dawn.’ Well, it doesn’t get much darker than this, does it, May? So she must have a point. I like to think so. We have to stay positive somehow, May. It’s awful when we lose sight of what we’re trying to achieve and how far we’ve come.
Righty-ho. Put a smile on your face and keep on breathing.
Love always
Bee XXX
21.08.08
Expect it to ease
Bee
Fate seems to be playing around with me. No news, so I decided to go to Jordan and try to speed up Ali’s papers myself. Well, just listen to the outcome of my decision. I phoned the travel agency, wanting to book a flight on Saturday. Apparently all flights are full for Saturday, so Sunday’s flights have been cancelled and pushed to Monday. This means Monday is already fully booked and I have to wait till Tuesday. CAN YOU BELIEVE THIS??
You are saying that we should try not to go mad. Well, I agree with you, but HOW can I stay sane with all this bloody madness? Anyway, I called Ban, my friend in Jordan who is working on speeding up Ali’s papers, because I had also asked her to rent a small flat or a bedsit (prices have soared in Amman). I told her that I won’t be arriving on Saturday or Sunday as planned. She was very kind and said: ‘Let’s just hope that Ali’s papers will be ready by then.’
Oh, another thing, Jordan does not let you enter unless you have booked a return ticket, which means double the price – and no refund if you do not return.
I will try not to go mad for as long as I possibly can. Ali of course has already crossed the insanity bridge (hehee) and I only need a little longer, and one more single provocation, to enter the mental institution myself.
Well, lovely, that’s all I have. Thank you for the comforting words; you really made my day. I am glad that you are back at work.
Love you always
May XXX
25.08.08
A madwoman
Dearest Bee
It has been more than 10 days since I first contacted my dear friend Ban. We call her at least twice a day, as if waiting for her to perform a miracle. The poor soul puts up with us, comforts us and asks us to be a bit more patient. I called her last thing yesterday afternoon, asking her if I should pay for the plane ticket, and she advised me to go ahead and make the booking, leaving Ali to follow on. I went to the travel agency to pay for the flight. The whole office now knows me by first name, and each and every one of them greeted me as I went in. I asked the man in charge what I should do, and he recommended that I take the risk and go by land to the border, together with Ali, and try to explain the issue to the officers there. He said it all depended on our powers of persuasion. I called Ali there and then, discussed it with him, and Ali agreed. I made reservations for the two of us by car for today, paid half the price and then bought some medicines we need on the way back home.
As I arrived at the house, Ban called and said that she has found someone at TNT Jordan (the company in charge of delivering the visa applications and the corrected papers). The man told her that the correction has been done and should have been sent. This news turned the plan upside down. We didn’t know what to do. TNT Baghdad, on the other hand, denied receiving any papers. One of the TNT offices is not telling the truth, and unsurprisingly my suspicions are directed at the Baghdad branch.
Ban told us to postpone our departure till Thursday, and so I phoned the travel agency again and rearranged everything.
I will go now, my lovely. Say hello to all the family.
Hugs
May XXXX
25.08.08
Yorkshire hello
May, what does it all now mean? Will you fly to Jordan alone and try to sort it out, or will you both go by car to the border and try to explain? What does it depend on? I’m totally confused. Please don’t cross over the bridge into lunacy; we need you to maintain a shred of sanity for just a while longer (but when you get to England you can be as mad as you like, haha). Keep in mind Terka’s words about the darkest hour.
I’m at my mum’s, which is heavenly. We came up on Friday afternoon; the girls were really good on the train. My mum collected us and the girls went into a whirlwind of shrieky joy to be here. They just run off down the garden laughing and screaming. The garden is all bushy and overgrown after all this rain and so you can hide away and make dens and pop out suddenly and eat plums and catch frogs. Zola fell in the pond but only got her legs wet.
Instead of trying to get anything done I have tried to do as little as possible. I finished Middlemarch (it’s taken me all summer – it’s huge and got better and better as I turned each page, so I was gripped late last night in bed waiting to see what would become of the heroine). And my mum has taught the girls to knit with some kids’ knitting needles; there was a charming Victorian vignette where all four of us were knitting away. We were like a three-generational illustration of modest feminine virtue, or some such antiquity. Elsa mostly tags along with the bigger two but they have so much more freedom here; they go off on their own and even go out on their bikes.
OK, May, just a quick hello and I really, really hope things move soon.
Anything is better than being stuck.
Tell me what’s happening.
Love from us all
B XX
27.08.09
On my way!
Dearest Bee
By the time you read this email, I should be on my way to the border on my own. I’ve decided to follow up Ali’s papers from Jordan. I can’t describe the tears and the heartbreaking look on Ali’s face as I left. He was almost hysterical. He would turn away, then start sobbing and turn back to hug me. I tried my best not to show him how upset I was, but I couldn’t help it and I started to cry involuntarily. I felt like I was going to die.
Anyway, these things must be done and someone has to take the initiative. May God never forgive the clerk responsible for the spelling mistake in Ali’s visa and the Jordanians for their heartlessness and the invasion for causing all this…
Wish me luck, Sis.
May XXXXX
29.08.08
You’re OUT!
MAY, when I got your text yesterday my heart beat faster. You’re over the border and inside Jordan! How did you do it? I guess you explained at the border what is happening and they let you in, after all that. The feeling that something is finally moving makes me feel nervous and want to do something, but there’s nothing I can do. Over the last few weeks every time I thought of you I knew exactly where you were (at home with Ali) and what you were doing (both going mental) so there was a certainty in one way, though a horrible one.
But now you are out there, setting off like the youngest son in those Grimms’ fairy tales, who goes off alone to try to save his family. I don’t know who you’re talking to or what you’re actually doing. I just hope my weird theory of loads of bad luck meaning that good luck is just around the corner will prove true this time. Can I make any calls to Jordan or do anything to add pressure or help in any way?
Right now, it’s the last day of our holidays. We’re going out to take the girls pony-riding in about 10 minutes and it’s a perfect sunny day with buttery late-summer sunshine. All the
gentle sounds of the English countryside are around us: the distant bark of a dog, a lazy aeroplane sound, birdsong. It’s most civilized and it’s really been a perfect holiday for relaxing and just being happy.
Have to catch the 2 p.m. train back down to London and then it’ll be back into the onward spin of catching up with life.
Let me know what happens. I really can’t believe you’re out of there. Oh please, please let it just WORK this time…
All my love and wishes
Bee XXXX
30.08.08
Quite an adventure
Dearest Bee, oh Bee…
It was quite an adventure. I will start from the very beginning. Tears of course and heartbreaking scenes and a sleepless night. Ali and I suffered quite a lot and feared that we might not see each other again, but I put on a brave face.
The taxi driver collected me at the crack of dawn, just after 5 a.m. I reached the travel agency around 5.30 and was greeted by a very nice person. I was surprised to discover that travel agencies cooperate with each other and exchange passengers, and so I was passed to another agency. The driver was old and grumpy and objected to my luggage, saying that he’d never seen such a large suitcase. Then he told me to empty some of its contents and leave them at the agency for my family to pick up. I screamed that I did not have a family and I would NOT empty my suitcase and he would have to put up with it or I wouldn’t travel with him. The nice man at the original agency explained to him that I might be going for quite a long time, and the driver grumbled and accepted it but with very bad grace. There isn’t really a big choice of drivers going to Jordan. I found out later that only 20 to 30 drivers in the whole country are allowed over the border into Jordan.
Before we set off he told us that if we carried any credentials dated post-2003, we’d better get out now, because Jordan won’t accept them. Thank God I didn’t change mine after we got married, because that would have presented another problem. Then he said that any documents belonging to other people, even if they were only photocopies, were not allowed, so I had to tear up Ali’s photocopied passport and other papers.
