WIDAD

When we look at life, we discover how cruel it is.

I know this because I lost the most precious things.

When I was younger, I was happy. Then, after they took my father away, I lost my love for life. They deprived our family of the force that held us together, and afterwards, only tragedy remained—and injustice, oppression, and tyranny.

I was once a young girl, proud of my honor and virtue. I lived with my father, who was a guard at the petroleum company, my mother, four sisters, and a brother who had been crippled by polio.

My father was an honest, God-fearing man who brought us up well. He never made us feel that we were a burden for being girls. He cared for us and provided for all our needs. My mother was a kind lady who showered us with compassion and tenderness.

My father had friends who were like him in their honesty and pious nature. They used to spend the afternoons in a cafe talking.

One day, he returned home to tell me about a conversation with our neighbor, who was a member of the local Ba’ath Party Section.

The man said, “Why do you pious bunch come together everyday at this cafe? Are you conspiring against the Ba’ath Party?”

“Why would say that, son?” said my father, “We are your father’s age. Why do you speak this way to us?”

The neighbor laughed and went away.

The next day, November 20, 1992, my father went to work and never returned.

When he didn’t come home, my mother was worried. This had never happened before. My mother went to my cousin’s house and told him about my father. Then, my cousin went to the Petroleum Department in Misan. There was nobody there except the guards at the gate.

“We don’t know anything about him,” they said, “Some men came in a white Land Cruiser and took him away.”

My cousin came back and told us about what he heard from the guards. My mother went crazy. She started beating her chest and screaming. Then, all of us girls started crying and screaming. We thought, “What can we do without our father?”

The next morning, my cousin took my mother and went to ask about my father. They went to the Amara Security Directorate; nobody there told them anything. They went to Istikhbarat; nobody there said a word. They went to all the police stations in the area and returned at night without any information on what happened to my father.

I had been the best student in my secondary school and, at the time, I was studying at the Technical Institute. I left my studies for two weeks to find out what happened to my father. I went to all the Security Directorate offices and police stations in Baghdad and Basra. No one would tell us what happened to my father. We were devastated.

Slowly, we began to accept the situation. My mother started a new life. She would take milk from the countryside and make yogurt, cheese, and cream, and sell it in the market to provide for the family and help us finish school. Some of our relatives gave us money to buy medicine for my sick brother. Some neighbors also helped us. This continued for about a year.

Then, my mother fell ill and became paralyzed. From then on, our situation grew worse. Our only hope was for me to get a good job after graduating from the Technical Institute.

One day, while I was at school, Zaina approached me. She was the daughter of a Ba’ath Party Section member and always bragged about her father’s position. She had a car and used to drive to and from the Institute. She wore expensive clothes, gold rings on her fingers, and gold chains around her neck.

Zaina often tried to be friends with me, but I avoided her because of what happened to my father. Still, that day, I was very upset.

“What’s wrong, Fatima?”

“Nothing.”

“How can you say ‘nothing’? You are such a bright student and now you’re not paying attention in class. Talk to me. Maybe you’ll feel better.”

I don’t know what happened to me then. I started crying and speaking about my father who went missing and about my mother, my brother, and our difficult life. I wondered why all of this was happening. I never understood why my poor father was taken away.

“Who took your father?” she asked.

“The Ba’athists who have no fear of God.”

I don’t know why I said those words.

She looked at me in anger and said, “So, you hate the Party and the State?”

“No, I don't hate them. But why did they choose us out of all people?”

She left and went out of the hall.

Two days later, I was at a lecture at the Technical Institute when an officer and three men appeared. They came into the lecture hall.

The professor asked, “How can we help you?”

“It’s none of your business. We’ve come for Fatima. We have a warrant for her arrest.”

When I heard his words, I began shaking with fear.

The other students looked at me, half in accusation and half in empathy. The officer grabbed me and they took me with them. They forced me into a white Land Cruiser. They put me in the middle row, with a man on my left and another on my right. The officer sat in the front seat next to the driver.

When we reached the suspension bridge, the officer ordered the men to lower my head. After five minutes, the car stopped. They took me out of the car and into a building. I found myself inside the Misan Security Directorate.

Two guards looked at me.

“She’s a great find!”

At the time, I didn’t know what they meant.

They took me to a small, windowless room. They locked the door and left me alone. At the time, I felt terrible. I didn’t know why I was there. I worried about what would happen to my poor handicapped mother and my family. I started crying. What had I done to be thrown in this cell, locked up, facing these four walls?

Several hours later, a man came in. He handcuffed me and blindfolded my eyes. He walked me somewhere. He took off the blindfold and released my hands. I found myself in a square room with a bed, a cable, a stick, and a rope.

I was so afraid. I was wondering what they were going to do to me?

Moments later, the officer who arrested me entered the room. He approached me slowly.

“Sweetie,” he said, “I think that God chose the most beautiful features and gave them to you. I hope you won’t make us both tired and that you’ll confess easily.”

“Confess to what?”

“Two days ago when you were sitting with another student, you cursed the President.”

“Believe me, I didn’t do that,” I said, “I was worried about life, my sick mother, and my father who disappeared. I didn’t know what to do. I only said to Zaina, ‘Why did the Ba’athists choose us?’ That’s what I said.”

“So, you cursed the Ba’ath Party?”

“I didn’t curse anyone. I was sad and sick with worry for my family.”

“You are a liar. You criticized the Ba’ath Party. This makes us think you’re part of an organization inside the Technical Institute.”

“No, I’m a peaceful person. I have no political affiliations. I beg you, let me go. If my mother knew about this, she would die.”

“Let’s not worry about your mother,” he said. “Here, you are alone.”

He came close to me in a strange manner.

His eyes were red.

He pushed me to the bed and started to take off his clothes.

I screamed, “What are you doing, you animal?!”

He stood up. He spit in my face and slapped me. “Look who’s talking? Fatima, the whore!”

He attacked me like a monster. I was screaming and fighting with my hands, but he was like a wild animal. He was strong. It was impossible for me to stop him. He stripped off my clothes. I was crying and begging him to leave. I was screaming as loud as I could.

I was unable to stop him and his cruel desires.

Then, he beat me with a cable and I lost consciousness.

I woke up when he put some smelling salt under my nose. When I came to, I saw that I was naked. I began to scream. I beat myself. I broke down like a crazy person.

He was so cold. He sat there as if he had done nothing. He looked at me.

“Put your clothes back on, bitch! You insulted the President and the Party. This is what you deserve!”

After I put my clothes on, he opened the door and went out. Then, the same man who brought me to the room came to take me back to my cell.

The same thing happened every night for four months.

I began to wither, day after day. My health went from bad to worse. My nerves broke down. The officer used to give me pills so I could sleep at night and be more relaxed for him.

One night, when they brought me to the room, the officer was there with several other men.

“This is the pretty girl I told you about!” he said.

I began to scream. He tied a cloth around my mouth. He pointed a gun to my head and ordered me to take off my clothes.

I refused. He pressed the gun closer.

I followed his orders and took off my clothes. Then, he removed the cloth covering my mouth.

I shouted at them, crying, “Don’t you have any honor? Don’t you have sisters or wives? What would you do if one of them faced what’s happening to me now?!”

“Our sisters and wives are not like you,” said one of them. “You’re a slut and a whore!”

The officer said to one of the men, “Enjoy her! She’s yours!”

Then, everybody went out and the man stayed in the cell. He took what he wanted.

Then, the second came in.

Then, a third.

I fainted. I couldn’t bear the situation.

What had I done to be treated this way? What was my crime?

The officer who first assaulted me ordered a man to whip me with a cable. The man hit me all over my body. I lost consciousness. When I came to, I was back in my cell.

A week later, a man came and took me to another room. There, I found an officer sitting behind his desk, while the officer who assaulted me each day was beside him in a chair. He acted as if he’d never seen me.

The officer behind the desk said, “After we investigated the charges against you regarding the allegations that you cursed the President Leader, we have found you to be innocent. You will now be freed. You will leave here. However, you will work as a spy and tell us everything that is happening in your neighborhood.”

I didn’t say a word. I would have done anything to get out of that dirty place.

He made me sign a paper.

Then, I was taken home in a white Land Cruiser, just like the one that took me to prison.

When I returned home, I found more sorrow. My mother had died. My brother was near death because he wasn’t receiving his medications. My sisters had left school.

I couldn’t stand to see what had happened to my family and, one night, we ran away to live with my maternal aunt in Samawa. She was an old woman, a widow, who had a married son and a daughter in school. She lived in a big two-story house and let us stay on the second floor.

I went to work in a clothing factory owned by one of my aunt’s friends. I spent my salary caring for my sisters and buying my brother’s medication. I transferred my sisters to schools in Samawa. One of them finished the Teachers Institute, the other entered secondary school, and the third entered college.

We thanked God for everything.

We lived there until the fall of the tyrant.

Then, I returned to our old house.

By then, I had lost my dignity. I continue to live in disgrace, after what happened to me.

Still, God avenged me. The father of the girl I knew from school was killed by unknown men. Then, their family’s situation deteriorated. They left their home. Nobody knows where they went.

As for my father, we found his body in one of the mass graves.

What can I say? We have no power other than what God gives us. To God we belong and to Him shall we return.

I thank God for everything and hope no human being should ever suffer injustice. Inshallah.