My Life Beyond The Pale

Chapter five: After the war

"Donkey!"

"Hush! Never say that about him. He's your father."

"I hate him."

"We still have to respect those we hate."

I once saw my siblings around me screaming "He smells like cake!" because my father bought me dates biscuit. A respected actor is standing in Baghdad's streets selling toys on a wooden table. Young students to gray-haired elders, sitting at a corner of every street hoping that someone would call them up for some work. The twenty-five dinar my father takes to the market, now given to me to buy chewing gum. Not unusual to see trays of food sent in the hands of kids to any house that thought they might not have enough.

One time my sister met her friend that way, switching food trays in the middle of the road. With what the economy is turning into, a "good job" has become "Any job." But my father had two. A government employee as a truck driver. And a taxi driver when he's not on his shifts. Using the car my mother bought for him with my grandfather's money. It managed to sustain us just above the water, while people are drowning in poverty. The problem with that is everyone knows what he does for a living, when he's working and when he's not. You just have to check the truck near the house. If it's gone, that means so is he for at least a week.

The stove is burning in the middle of the room like it always does in these cold, windy nights. We're watching the midnight movie on one of the only two channels we have In the country. My father is at work and won't be back for days, Khalid and Zena retired earlier since they have school in the morning, Mahmood is sitting next to my mother, and I was pretending to be asleep under my blanket, with a big enough hole to watch it with them. Since it was a horror movie, I wasn't allowed to do so. But my brother is too young to understand what's he's seeing. And he'll fall asleep on my mother's lap soon enough anyway. It might have been "A Nightmare on Elm Street," though I'm not sure.

Small wiggling in the picture followed by a sudden white noise indicating a disconnected signal from the antenna. My mother waited a bit, then started messing around with its setting, followed by a decision to go to the roof and check the antenna.

I jumped from the bed screaming,

"Don't go, Don't go!"

"Why are you still awake?"

"Please, Don't leave."

She turned on all the lights in the room so I won't be afraid. Put a cardigan on her shoulders saying "Go back to sleep; I won't take long."

We were watching a horror movie so being left alone isn't something I wanted. But I wasn't afraid for myself. I just didn't know how to express that while watching while my mother is heading up the stairs.

Our houses are cubic shaped. Unlike triangular western ones. I stood near the first staircase looking up to; while taking few seconds to open the three large locks of the heavy metal door to the rooftop. My mother took the first step out to the dark, cloudy starless night. Saw the wire been cleanly cut. She understood what it meant and headed back to the house pretending she didn't while muttering words like "Khalid, what did you do this time." Hoping to reach the door, realizing she's not alone. Each step felt like an eternity. Just a few more and quick closing of the door would give her enough time to call for help. Only one more, a hand held her mouth from behind.

"Shhh, Don't...".

He didn't finish the sentence as she interrupted him with a bite on his hand followed by a hit with her elbow that pushed him few steps back. Ran to the door to close it, but he hit it with all his power making a sound alerted everyone in the house. Pushing her down the stairs, falling on the glass window. But she hasn't been injured thanks to the red, thick curtains. Went running to the kitchen to find any weapon while he's chasing her and slipping on the glass from the window and falling down the rest of the staircase. We all started to scream