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Iraq: Reflecting on Iran

Categories: Middle East & North Africa, Iran, Iraq, Breaking News, Elections, Human Rights, Politics, Protest, War & Conflict

Assuming my dear readers have not been living in a cave for the past couple of weeks, the developments after the recent Iranian elections need no introduction [1]. Here I present, in their own words, the recent comments of Iraqi bloggers on the subject. So much has been said about the elections already, that whether a blogger is pro- or anti- the protests is becoming more irrelevant. But, what is important here is the Iraqi perspective. How, after sanctions, forced regime change, war and destruction do Iraqis respond?

An Open Letter to Iran… [2]
Layla Anwar:
This is from an Iraqi woman.

I will not mess around with words…I know that this is your speciality…it is not mine.

I have learned that life is too short lived…and I have no time for words.

I will tell you, give it to you the way it is…and the way it is supposed to be.

There is a sense of urgency looming over my head. And am getting quite impatient…

I have swallowed words, paraphrases, sentences, dictionaries…whole and undigested.

Now, excuse me, I have one hell of an indigestion and I need to vomit it all out…in your faces.

Listen to me, and listen well…

I am no beggar of an Arab,

I am no Palestinian either…

These are your pawns, and they love being played around with…to the applause.

I am neither.

I am no pawn and no beggar.

And I also have no time for delicacies,

I have no time for niceties.

I have invented Language, I own it.

I play with it, pull it like a string dangling from a

from a puppet…

There is nothing you can teach me,
nothing you can invent…

I have mastered the Art

The art of deception,
the art of hypocrisy
the art of language…

I have mastered the art,

of sitting on edges
like a humpty dumpty
and I see you now

I know,
you know,
we know…

Leave aside the wordings
kick away the propaganda…
like in a football

I match,
you match ?
No you don't.

I know, I know.

I know and you hate me for knowing.

I know your torturers by names.
I know your hidden agents by their codes.
I know your identities even if you are hiding…

Cover up,
like you cover us up.
Ali, Hassan, Hussein
watch them over
wearing Arabic labels
glued on their chests,
stamped from Al-Hijaz.

I see Darius galloping
in your minds,
minds covered with turbans
of pretence
bowing to yourselves….
to a saint
the saint of your imagination…

I hear echoes…
blasting through cement walls
as thick as your brains
thicker than your brains.

I see colors pouring down hallways,

I see the green
I see the black
I see the red
I see the white
of Death
hovering over…
fluff, fluff
cotton fluff
cloud fluff
word fluff
hovering above
open arms
receiving truths
from dungeons
where Aryans
dark skinned
in the name of
of Zarathustra
in the name…

Whose name was it
do you remember the name?

I have forgotten names
I have erased them,
with chalk
with paint
with black covers…
a thick cloth

A thick cloth
through which you are now
I hear you
I hear you,

But did you hear me
in that dungeon
where you engraved
my name
with the sword
of some Ali
where you chained me
with the rods of
some Hassan and Hussein…

My eyeballs just rolled on
the floor
like some dice of fate
like some dice from a poker
being played
in a sand castle
a castle of turbans
a castle of turbans
and lamenting women
for another prince…

I feel metal drills
drilling secrets in my limbs
touching nerves
with which
I will awaken you….

I push aside thick curtains
black thick curtains
hanging behind bars
hanging behind subterranean
I push them aside
and watch your faces
for freedom…

I cry out to you,
I am Josef in the well
give me your hand.

You do not hear me,
you buried me

Now you are screaming
I hear you screaming

Iraqi Mojo [3]:

As the the death toll in Iran reaches into the dozens and outrages American leaders, the “resistance” in Iraq and other jarab continue to mass murder Iraqis in the numbers we have become accustomed to seeing there, without the outrage expressed by the President. It's as if Iraqi lives are worth less than Iranian lives. It reminds me of the comment by Madeline Albright, about the sanctions being worth the price [4]. Iraqis have always been expendable.

Nadia [5]:

Hey I wish the Iranian people the best too, at least the best that they can possibly get out of the situation they're in right now. But why is it when so many liberals and leftists feel the need to convince the right wingers that Iranians are human beings, it's a portrait they paint as a contrast to all those “special” people that they are surrounded by? Not that I didn't already know that that was how they felt, cause believe me, this is not the first time I ran into this sentiment and it won't be the last.

This really wasn't what I wanted my first post on the aftermath of the Iranian elections to be about, but there it is. If anyone cares though I concur with this guy [6].

Layla Anwar [7]:

Neda Agha Soltani [8] is the name of the young woman assassinated with a bullet in her heart by the Iranian government Basij Militias. No family funeral was allowed for Neda.
Her family and fiancé were interviewed and the video of her ruthless murder has not ceased circulating across the globe…

All the media outlets have been talking about Neda. That is fine with me. But how come no media outlet has spoken of the thousands of Nedas in Iraq that have been brutally murdered by the Iraqi Shiite Militias trained, armed and funded by Iran ?

Hundreds of Iraqi women have suffered a worst fate than that of Neda, and only in total 3 articles and a couple of videos were circulated in their names. Not even.

Why ?

The whole of Iraq has become a Neda with a bullet in her heart.

And that is more or less it. While Twitter [9] and other blogospheres have been ablaze with comment most other Iraqi bloggers chose to spend their words talking about daily life [10] or Michael Jackson [11], or Microwave Chocolate Mug Cakes [12]. From a country which will, arguably, be the most affected by any upheaval in Iran, this lack of interest speaks more than all the comment in the world.