Talking About Jane Austen in Baghdad

by Bee Rowlatt

  So that was the end of my Sunday. That evening Ban came and, while we sat and talked, I felt an urge to go and read your letter to the minister. I told her about it and she agreed to come with me to the internet café where I printed it out with no particular reason or definite plan. I just thought I would take it with me on my next visit to his house if all else failed.

  Ali called and I burst into tears. He kept asking me if I was going to desert him. This irritated me more than ever because I still had hope and dreaded thinking about having to make such an awful choice. I screamed at him to give me a break and to let me think about tomorrow. I hung up and burst into tears again. I didn’t know what to do or what to think. I took Valium and slept.

  On Monday I got to the Ministry of the Interior early. Only a few employees had arrived and I watched them coming in one by one, so that by 9 a.m. the office was like a beehive.

  At 10 a.m. there was a rush in the hall and the senior employees were running towards the entrance. Suddenly there were a lot of men both in civilian clothes and in uniform. I concentrated hard, trying to find out what was going on, and there was His Excellency the Minister making a tour and inspecting performance. A woman approached him and complained about some matter and he listened to her attentively. I realized that I must also make a move, so I jumped up, took your letter out and just stood before him. I didn’t know what to do next. He looked up at me and said, ‘Speak up, daughter,’ so I handed him your letter, saying that it was from a BBC journalist and friend to His Excellency. He pulled the letter out and read it. He turned to his office director, Omar Beg al-Mufti, who walks by his side wherever he goes, and told him to grant my husband entry to Jordan. Mr Zaban, who was also there, told the minister that he was following up my case and the minister said, ‘OK, Saleh, see that it is done.’

  This is the whole story, Bee, and I think your letter helped in speeding up the process. Thank you, love, it was great. Well, so much emailing has made me hungry so I will run home and have something to eat. By the way, it rained today on our way to the internet café, and of course Ali and I are not equipped for rain because it is rare in Iraq. We were drenched and got a taxi to the place, even though it is only a 10-minute walk.

  OK, love, see you in another email.

  May xx

  25.09.08

  Wonderful news

  Extraordinary May!

  Most of all I want to know what it was like when Ali arrived. Did he come to your flat or did you go to meet him? And I have to know what happens next. Tell me when you are going to the UK Embassy and what will happen. We only have that one hurdle left.

  I’m on day two of five days in a row at work and it’s great, but I miss the girls. Justin’s mum has bought tickets to see the Royal Ballet’s Swan Lake in October, and we’re in a state of excitement. I got the storybook out of the library and we’ve read it every day (Elsa gasps at the pictures and pulls a bad face for the sorcerer and his evil daughter Odile). We viewed clips of the ballet itself and listened to the music online, so the girls will recognize the score and some of the steps when we go.

  Anyway, I have to get sorted to leave the office in a few minutes. We just had the Pakistani High Commissioner in the studio talking about his country’s relations with the US (looks like it’ll be the next Iraq, the way they’re going…).

  All my love and hugs to you and Ali

  Bee XXXX

  27.09.08

  Readjusting in Amman

  Dearest Bumbo Bee

  I will tell you about Ali’s arrival. I remained worried even after he had crossed the border, because they had taken away his passport. I kept calling him every half an hour just to comfort myself. Although deep down I knew that it was OK, the numerous setbacks had made me sort of paranoid. In Amman he called asking for the exact location of the flat, so I talked to the taxi driver and described the way. He was at the main entrance of the building within a short time. I ran down the steps and into the street. He had one suitcase with him and a carrier bag full of kebab despite the fact that I had already told him that I had bought lots and lots of food.

  The meeting was very emotional and passionate. I had already made tea, and I prepared the food while he showered. We talked endlessly about the whole thing and how we had suffered. Later on Mr Zaban called to check if all had gone well, and we thanked him and promised to visit him at the office to thank him personally.

  The next day, as I told you earlier, I stopped Ali from calling you at 5 a.m. your time! We had breakfast, then we went out and walked for hours. He bought a pair of shoes, because he couldn’t do that in Baghdad. We didn’t have anything to eat while we were out because it is Ramadan and all the cafés are closed. We returned to our flat, ate some of the enormous amount of leftovers and had tea, intending to go out after fast-breaking time.

  Ban called saying she was coming over and we were delighted. We haven’t entertained for years. I felt that life was gradually returning to normal. We had tea then some ice cream, and she went home around 10 p.m. and we went for a walk. Ali still fears going out at night, but he is gradually adjusting and I think our stay in Amman will be like a rehabilitation process, enabling us to adjust after all the tension and fear of Baghdad.

  Kate had sent an email saying that she would be in Amman on Thursday night and so I sent her my new number and she called. Another delightful event. We exchanged calls on Friday and decided to meet (AT LAST). She took a taxi and came over to our flat, then we went out for dinner. We talked an awful lot about you, wishing that you were with us, and saying how great it would have been. I really missed you at that point. I operated as an interpreter while Kate and Ali talked. He said his famous phrases and then he moved on to sign language, using some other English words he has picked up during the past year. In general they communicated very well. So I have no fear that you will also communicate perfectly.

  Ali should be able to pick up his passport on Monday if nothing else happens, then there will be a five-day holiday because of the post-Ramadan feast. This is supposed to end by Sunday. After that we will go to the UK Embassy. So this will be Monday 6 October, or Tuesday. These are the latest events, but I will write to you in my next email to complete the minister’s episode. I can’t wait to see you, Bee. I really want things to move very fast, but you can see how slowly things are going.

  Love you always, and I wish you a great time at the Swan Lake ballet.

  May xxx

  27.09.08

  Golden day

  May, you are great. Well done with everything. You’ve been brilliant to keep it together. I feel really happy reading your email; it sounds like things are going so right and, although you say they’re moving slowly, just think where we were a week ago. I think it’s coming along perfectly. But I’ve learned to be a little more cautious now, so we can’t take anything for granted. Yesterday at work I wrote to a friend’s brother, who is very senior in the Foreign Office, asking if there was any way I could call his colleagues in Jordan and find out who it’s best for you to talk to and so on. I guess it’s worth just asking, isn’t it?

  I’m happy that Ali has bought some shoes – at last, some good news and stories of minor pleasant everyday events. The small happinesses are so precious. Today is the perfect autumn day; it started all misty and cold and I went for a run while J took the girls swimming. I ran up through the Heath as the mists were lifting. Rays of sun came through the trees, cobwebs were silver. It was almost like an ancient landscape, all lit up. I felt as if I was in a spell. I’ve never seen it looking so beautiful. I thought about how much I love Justin and the kids, and felt lucky.

  Have to go now; we’re having friends for a big lunch here soon. I might just drag the table out into the garden and catch the last of the autumn golden warmth while we eat.

  Many hugs, to add to all those other ones we’ve emailed each other!!!!

  Bee XX

  30.09.08

  Hello from the drizzle

  May. So much is happ
ening at your end that it seems to move on every day. I can’t believe you’re not in Iraq any more, and I bet you can’t either. Today in the news the Iraqi government announced that the Eid holiday will last six days, instead of three. Made me laugh, as I remembered you getting annoyed at how they used to chop and change the holidays and festivals. Is everything OK about your jobs back in Iraq, and getting the extra time you need for the visa applications? I keep on asking you about the next stage: you must tell me what’s going on! And what are you both doing every day now that you can relax together?

  I haven’t had a very relaxing time. Taking on a chunk of full-time work seemed like a great idea, but it’s really too much to combine with three kids, and now I can’t wait for a break. I’ve really missed them. Justin’s away in Ireland, so I’ve had to be super organized in the mornings. This morning Zola needed a packed lunch for a school trip, Eva had to practise her violin and Elsa was demanding to be read Swan Lake. Zo had spellings to practise and wanted her hair put in plaits instead of bunches, but then screamed when I brushed it. Then Elsa wanted her hair done too. Zo argued about what shoes to wear, Eva wouldn’t put her violin away and Elsa got covered in jam. I cleaned her and ran upstairs to brush my teeth. She began to scream, so I ran back down and caught Eva running away looking guilty; she wouldn’t tell me what she’d done. This was on top of trying to make breakfast when we’d run out of porridge, and get myself ready to come in to do a day’s work in some kind of respectable state. By the time I got them all to school/nursery I felt like having a lie-down. Instead of cycling to work I caught the bus, then spent the whole journey trying to contact the doctor in charge of the various tests they did after that incident with my arm. No one seems to be in charge of it, and they don’t know what to do.

  Work is quite crazy with the economic meltdown. Bush just looks like a tired old man. There seems to be a certain strain of glee around the world about the heart of capitalism being hit so hard, but it does always hit the poorest in the end. I don’t feel any glee about it. Hard to get a tangible feel for what it all really means, though.

  It’s cold and raining outside. Thank God I didn’t come to work on my bike… OK, dear May, I’d better go now.

  Enjoy the last week in Jordan. (Fingers and everything crossed!)

  Bee X

  02.10.08

  Eid in Amman

  Dearest Sis

  It sounds like you are going through a very busy time. It’s good, though. I know it can be hard for you with my lovely nieces, but it’s good for you to have a change of scenery every now and then. Work is great – the only annoying thing about it is having to pull yourself out of bed in the morning. This, I know, I will have to retrain myself to do when I come over to the UK. But watch out for ‘May the Bulldozer’ after that…

  By the way, I’d love it if you were free for a couple of days so that we can talk endlessly about us and move on from electronic and technological contact into a face-to-face tangible relationship.

  Let me tell you about the Intelligence meeting with Ali. We woke up very early, having been unable to sleep. I knew that the offices didn’t open until 9 a.m. but we were there at 8.15. The guard at the gate said that we were early. Ali had asked me the day before to go with him, because he said that I was a better talker (hehee, I think it’s a polite way of saying a blabbermouth).

  Anyway, a guard came out asking everyone the reason for their visit. When he asked Ali, Ali showed him the piece of paper he had been given at the border. He turned to me and asked, ‘And you, Madam?’ I replied that I was only accompanying my husband. He said that it was not permitted and I would either have to wait outside or go home. I knew that this was going to happen, but I couldn’t tell Ali the night before because he was so depressed after all that had taken place. Ali was not in a position to object, and so to save time I took a taxi and went to the health centre to collect the results of his tests (a Jordanian requirement).

  By 1.30 p.m. Ali was back, jumping, kissing his passport and waving it in the air. They gave it back to him without any trouble. We were so happy and I called Kate and Ban telling them the good news. We went out for a long walk. It was great exercise but we compensated for the calories we’d burned by having ice cream and orange juice at an elegant café. Amman was crowded that night because it was the night before the Feast (Eid) and Ramadan was over. People thronged the streets and shops. There were traffic jams, and long queues at the baklava shops. People were buying new clothes and the cafés were full of giggling girls with their shopping bags.

  We arrived back at our flat very late, exhausted, but very happy. This was one of the few nights in my life when I slept comfortably and soundly.

  We spent all day Wednesday at home. Ban came to see us and I cooked lunch. I hadn’t cooked at all until Ali came and had begun to enjoy being a lazy singleton! Anyway, we stayed home because the shops were closed. Today is the third day of the Feast and everything is back to normal. The internet café is open at last and here I am writing to you.

  As for my leave from work: well, I am not really sure. I sent a medical report and asked for leave but I don’t yet know the result. On Sunday morning we are supposed to get Ali a permit to stay for as long as they will grant him (I was granted three months) and then we will head to the UK visa section, which is not, as I had been told, at the embassy. We will get the forms, fill them out at home and take them back on Monday. I really don’t want to rush filling them out. After that, I don’t know how things will turn out.

  OK, love, this is our news. Will write again as soon as we are on the move.

  Take care of your health, Bee.

  Love you for ever

  May xx

  03.10.08

  Your arm

  Lovely Bee

  How are you? I don’t know why the mention of your test results got me worried about you. Are you OK, love?

  Ali and I walked for two hours yesterday, but we’ve spent the whole day today at home. Ali hates going out. Ban came over and we talked endlessly about anything and everything that has happened or is likely to happen. We also remembered the days when we were new at work and trying so hard to learn from our seniors. She left about an hour ago. I picked up a book that I was reading and tried to continue, ignoring the urge to go out. The book is written by an Iraqi lady whose mother was Scottish. Her book is a fictional account of the days of the economic embargo.

  You know, Bee, I just love going out, no matter where or when, but Ali just loves watching TV. Anyway, when Ali saw the book in my hands he immediately said let’s go out for a walk. I just threw the book aside, changed and went out. I told him I was worried about your arm so we’ve come to the internet café to write to you before continuing our walk. Please just drop me a line about your health.

  Love you always

  May xx

  03.10.08

  Good feeling…

  Hello, lovely. Please don’t worry about my health. The tests came back inconclusive on my weird arm thing. Guess that means it’s OK. Not thinking about it any more.

  Last night I woke at 4 a.m., which is unusual, and then as I lay there I started to think about you. I can’t remember the last time I had a long period of time to let my mind wander without dozens of distractions. I lay awake for two hours, thinking and thinking about you and all we’ve done and what will happen and what to do next. I thought about how frustrating and bitter some of it has been; some of those bad times seemed to go on for ages. Recently, with all the new developments and good news, I’ve found it a bit hard to write to you about my daily life. On top of the problem of no spare time I also have the feeling, once again, that it all seems so trivial in the light of things that are happening. Last night I was writing a letter to you in my head that would’ve been the longest letter ever (can’t remember half of it now); I got all excited and couldn’t settle down to go back to sleep.

  I don’t know how long the flight from Amman to London is, but we will be there to meet you and Ali
at the airport. A while back you asked about what we would look like when we finally met each other, and what that first moment will be like. It will be so funny! Don’t worry about making a special effort or looking nice, as I will be my usual scruffy self. When I’m not working I’m lucky if I get the time to put any make-up on at all – and if I do, the girls laugh at me and ask me why I’m doing it (apart from Elsa, who demands to wear some). Sometimes I’ll see myself in a shop window and think, ‘Oh dear, you really needed a few more minutes!’ But anyway, we have been practising a little phrase in Arabic to say to Ali when we meet him. I was taught it by a Syrian mum at the girls’ school; she has been testing my pronunciation when we go to collect the kids.

  At 6 a.m. I put the radio on to get the latest on the debate between the vice-presidential candidates, and that was when I finally fell back to sleep. Some of my thoughts were about your arrival; it could be so soon now. I want your first experiences in the UK to be friendly ones, so I think it will be best if you and Ali stay here for a little while, and then I can come to Luton with you and help you with finding a flat. This morning I asked Justin’s parents if they could lend you their spare room just for a short while, and they agreed. We don’t have room, but they are just up the road from us. So when you arrive we will take you there. There’s only one problem: you absolutely cannot smoke there, not even leaning out of the window! They both hate it and Justin’s mum gets asthma. I gave her my word that you wouldn’t smoke there; you’ll have to go somewhere away from the house. (Can you do it? I know you both love to smoke.)