Literature, Fathers, Psychiatry, and Me

When I graduated from secondary school I proposed to my parents the college of literature as my career. My father told me that I can read literature whenever I like, and I may even practice it, while being a doctor.

In the first three years in the medical college I was among those with the highest marks. When my father left for the UAE, my marks, along with my mother's health, started to deteriorate.  

My father came back to find me interested in psychiatry, and our rapport with each other was already, pale.

 It was in Al-Hilla where I was trying to make a family of friends and I succeeded, hence, I adore Al-Hilla.

"The Death of the Father" is a novel of Ahmed Khalaf published in Baghdad by "The House of the Cultural Affairs" in 2002. In its cover there is a painting by a painter named: Salma Al-Allaq, which might symbolize Baghdad, the city that Amjad, the protagonist, adores. Amjad's father had been killed in an unclear circumstances while he was in a visit to his village of origin. Amjad was "the son who was forced to be a father" while he was only 19. He now works in a newspaper. He started also selling books in Al-Mutanabbee Street. He told us about his lost of that book entitled "The Treasure" who worth a fortune. 

 He told us about his friend's loss of his brother, Ismail. His friend also had lost his mother after his parents were divorced. His mother married his paternal uncle Noah. The story tells about a psychological instability of the father of Amjad's friend. The novel even allures to the ending of the father in a mental hospital.

Hussein Sarkam Hassan, an Iraqi doctor who is interested in literature, had written a book about Ahmad Khalaf novels. Dr. Sarmak start with the note that Ahmad Khalaf had written an article about Paolo Coelo's novel "Alchemist" which tells about the searching of a treasure, which finally appears to be in the homeland of the researcher. 

 Dr. Sarmak starts to give evidences of the recurrence of the theme of "Absenteeism" in Khalaf stories, especially "The Death of the Father". Dr. Sarmak had even entitled his book about Khalf: "The Bloody Comedy of Absenteeism: a study in the stories and novels of the Iraqi creative Ahmad Khalaf".

Amjad, in the novel, had an absent father, a lost book, and poverty. His friend got a lost mother, brother named Ismail, a paternal-uncle named Noah whom he liked and preferred to his father. 

 I didn't finish nor the novel, nor the critic about it, but I could not help not buying a newer novel by Ahmed Khalaf, entitled: "The Passion Bearer". I could not but surprise happily when read in its first chapter about the aloofness and strangeness of the protagonist, and about his memories of his lost brother: Ismail. And you know what? In the second chapter, the protagonist, who still unnamed to me, had read, while walking the streets, a name of one of his old friends in the secondary school, in a window of a private clinic of a psychiatrist. His friend had become a psychiatrist. He decided to pay him a visit in his private clinic. Not only for the memories for their comradeship, but for other reasons.

Three books rests over my laptop with Herta Muller offering a cigarette in the desktop, and Patrick Suskind' Pigeon is giving me.... an eye. 

Oud

About Boundaries & Mines

Trista Pena. I am hearing now "Trista Pena" by Gipsy Kings.

And it is Sherko Fattah that I was reading those last days. A novel about a Kurdish smuggler living on the borders between Iraq and Turkey and Iran. He is much respected and valued for the risk he is taking on walking across those borders filled with mines.

His family quickly got the habit of not asking him about the mines. It seems that there was a non-spoken agreement stating that mentioning the mines might bring bad luck, a kind of a curse.

 The story is about that smuggler's strive for survival after 1991 war and the start of Kurdistan separation from Iraq and all the problems that paralleled. He lost his son and he is not sure what happed. He suspects that his son had joint an Islamic militia. The smuggler's sister lives across the border. It is not totally clear at the beginning of the novel but as you pass page 200 you start to figure out that the smuggler's house which joins him with his wife and his now "lost" son, is in Iraq, while his sister is living with her husband few kilometers away, inside Turkey. The smuggler's problems are doubled symmetrically across the borders. His troubles are multiplied by a factor named post-1991 chaos.

But let us go back a little to another border, to another conflict. The Freud Vs Jung conflict and read from Jung's autobiography one of his dreams:  

"..on one of the mountainous areas at the Swiss-Austrian borders, and near the evening time, I saw an old man wearing the uniform of the Austrian customhouse. He walked by my side. He was bent and he never looked at me. His facial expressions were closer to obstinacy, sadness, and annoyance. There were other people in the scene. One of them had told me that the old man is not really here, but it is his spirit, the spirit of the customhouse man who died since years, (he is one of those who cannot die like how it should be)… this is the first part of the dream".

Yesterday I was in Al Mutanabbee street and I liked to walk in the backstreets.

In the backstreets of it and found by accident a used book entitled: "Freud or Jung" written by Edward Glover. What is interesting is the signature of the original owner of the book: "Rose Khaddourri, NY, 1961" and Rose Khaddourri is one of the Iraqi Jewess and a pioneer in teaching method and school opening. As any other Iraqi Jew, she was forced to leave Iraq in the middle of the 20^th century.

 

From the book I knew that Cyril Connolly had once wrote a letter to Edward Glover telling him: "I feel the Jung's reputation has grown out of proportion. [….]. His work is a distortion of Freud's ideas by the injection into them of unscientific mystical feelings which make them popular. In the work of Jung there are elements in which Jung's own desire for a religious, rather than a scientific, conception exists."

I am still hearing Trista Pena by the Gypsy Kings.

Let us go back to Sheko Fattah novel and read:

"Why I am not allowed to know a thing about my son?

Bino was surprised for a while. Then he shook his head with a stronger intensity.

-          Because it was a long time since he was lost. You are digging in the past. Don't you understand that there is no past here, at least for those people like you. The past and the future do not exist for you. For you it is only the present that exists and anything else is a taboo. That must be clear to you anyhow."

p. 212

 A wooden box of traditional Kurdish candies had reached me to Baghdad from a friend. I will leave the sad novel unfinished for now but I will keep listening to Trista Pena and think about boundaries and mines.

 

Accompanying the Wise

It is 12:11 AM, and tomorrow I got no work, so I stayed this night playing a video game with Giliana. We played football in his Playstation 2. At first he beated me (Italy) by Germany. Then he chose KSA and beated me again. Then I chose Barcelona and again KSA beated me. He even had some goals marked by his goalkeeper. It was fun. On the shelf next to us were the ashtray and the juices. There was also the novel that I started just before minutes: "The Death of the Father" by Ahmed Khalaf. 

It is page 78 and the three friends, the novelist, the unknown man, and the painter are spending their time in the painter's drawing studio. The painter Adil, is drinking Raki, while serving the better and more expensive wine to his guests. They talk about their memories. We knew the Adil was poor and called by one of his female colleagues as the "Mendiant d'Amour" alluring to his multiple failures in his seeks of befriending the girls.

The unknown man, had a brother named Ismail, who loved Sara. He had an uncle named Noah. Those names are historically dense.

As opposed to Al-Rikabi's "The Book of Eternity" three friends, Ahmad Khalaf three friends are relax in spite of their complex personal and familial histories.

They seem more wise and mature.

I am invited tomorrow to a lunch with two men. I think we will eat fish.

I am hearing now Chopin Nocture Op. 09,1 in B flat minor and will proceed after publishing this to read the rest of the novel, to enjoy the accompany of the wise.

Another Journals' Diary in Baghdad

Ibtihal Belaibil wrote today about the sudden happy news she received that morning in the journal: a journey, for herself alone, to Switzerland. She spent the day happily till the boss of the journal summoned her to his office and told her that that was a lie, the lie of the first of April. She wrote about that an article in today's Al-Sabah issue, and included a picture of a plane that belong to the Iraqi Airlines. 

Ali Daneef, on his part, wrote about that soldier who knew the names of his 99 grandparents (his father, his grand-father, the father of his grandfather and so on). Ali Daneefs remember that soldier who persuaded them at the military unit in the vital importance of knowing the names of at least the first 7 grandfathers.  

 In today's article, Ali Daneef declared that he no longer see it necessarily to know all those names, a human should be respected for his-self. Next to Ali Daneef's article was a picture from Germany, an apple tree with 10,000 colored eggs, as a celebration of a Christian holy day that I remember participating once in Baghdad in my childhood.

 In the same page, the last page, my favorite, was a photo of Tim Sorrier and one of his paintings.

 Khudair Mery is continuing his wonderful articles. Today he wrote about the experimental Arabic novels. I have read no one of those that he mentioned. I will keep his article in my archive as I always do with his articles.

 "Hasta La Vista Kapitalista" was in the front cover. I really forgot what is about but I liked so much that girl who held that pancarte.

 BB was on Al-Mada's cover.

 Hani Fahas was in the inside of Al-Mada. There was an article about another book written by him about his memories.

 As I reached home and saw that the internet service is available I decided to show you the newspapers of today and few pictures from the last week's papers.

 Baider Al-Basri has won the title of "The Voice of Religions". She is an Iraqi singer. I never heard of her before.

 From Romania, a bride wore the longest wedding dress in history.

 Romania, had offered me a novel of Herta Muller. A novel that was translated to English under the title of "Passport" but to Arabic under the title of "I Wished I Had Not Met Myself Today". The novel is about the Communist Party in Romania under Ceaucescu. The novel is long, and talks about trivial daily things, in a country that reminded me of mine, under Saddam.

 The newspaper seller had loaned me his personal copy of "God Thieves" the latest book of Abdul-Razaq Al-Jubran. From the book, I will never forget that line which states: "The prophet is not a poppet under the hands of the inspiration (of God)".

Mohammad Ghazi Al-Akras had written in yesterday's issue of Al-Sabah a lovely article about a poor Iraqi sweeper who loves his work. He wrote about those poor manual workers who sings while working. A very lovely and clever article as it is usual with Al-Akrass articles. Next to his article was a picture from Eastern Europe (Bulgaria maybe) showing that day when they celebrate by throwing water on each others. 

I don't know how to end this post but if you were next to me, I would bring a glass of water and through the water on you and giggle. Have a nice day dear friends. Thank you for Al-Sabah and Al-Mada writers. You are all wonderful.

An Iraqi Pantomime and Anxieties

Yaseen Taha Hafuth, an Iraqi poet and translator of literature, was writing in yesterday's Al-Sabah issue. The title of his article was "The Anxiety of Falling". It started with that usually antagonism to the biological theories of psychiatry. As structuralism was decomposed, a poetic writing prevailed. It is not me who is supposed to be fascinated with such an article, but a little degree of empathy had found itself inside at that particular moment and another dose of empathy, or even sympathy, had caught the possibility of existence in the future when a better explanation for the normality of the anxiety of falling will be read from another source.

 Falling, as a concept, had pointed to two facts: 1. The coming Arabic Summit, that will be held in Baghdad in about a week, and 2. Falling of an elderly body and hip fracture. As I contemplated Yaseen Taha Hafuth face, I knew his body is not that youth, anymore.

I always think about the bed I will lie in while knowing that I am in my last days. What will I think when I will be diseased and expecting death at any moment. Will be satisfied with what I did in my life? Could I have said, at that moment, that I have lived?

Yaseen Taha Haduth talks also about the anxiety of "living" and the anxiety of "fate". About the necessity of anxiety to motivate living and creating and thinking. This article will be read in the future again and again. Thank you Yaseen Taha Hafuth.

Have you ever heard of an Iraqi pantomime? A pantomime entitled "The Sculptor is Watching his Watch"? Written and directed by an Iraqi called Muna'im Sa'eed?

 Ali Shia'a was writing yesterday in Al-Sabah about it. Ali Shi'a was talking about his memories of 1991 when the Gulf War ended and he was forced, with others, to leave Iraq to K.S.A. and be refugees in an asylum, in tents in the Saoudian desert. Fa'is Al-Banna was among those Iraqis and he had reproduced this pantomime in front of the others asylum seekers, from his memory. The article tells us that that pantomime was forbidden to be played anymore.

Donald Rumsfeld 21^st episode of his Memoir was neglected again for the sake of reading Ali Daneef who was writing about his son showing signs of falling in love. 

Ali Daneef is embarrassed in front of his son's new care about his hair and clothes and poetry. The article is very beautiful. Next to the article is a fresh photo from Paris, where the weather was hot a little making people sitting in the terraces again.

Another article was talking about the Mothers' Day in the Sumerian days which was regarded as the first of April, in a link to what the Sumerian thought the start of spring which symbolizes fertility for them. A picture with the article is showing a typical mother in traditional clothes selling vegetables. 

Happy Mothers Day to all Iraqi mothers and all mothers around the world.

Hope all the best to Ali Daneef's son.

Thank you Ali Shiay'a about that wonderful story about the Iraqi pantomime.

Yaseen Taha Hafuth, you are a master that we learn from.

Bus Newspaper Reading

"Rave is still being understood as monopolized by mental illness, while it is the human language that created its raving, and raving would not be possible without a linguistic incubator, an incubator that can make raving another kind parallel to speech, or a little behind speech, or a little in front of it in its well-made beautiful majority." That was how today's Khudair Mery's article started today in Al-Sabah newspaper.

He continues after few lines that I found myself unable to translate: "… and perhaps it was Jacques Derrida who deconstructed, for the first time, the concept of writing and referring to writing as a trial to be centered around the logos."

What is more amazing in today's article is Mery's trial to elaborate on the concept of writing for us, the Arabs, and why we find difficulty in understanding Jacques Derrida's view about writing.

I don't claim that I understand Derrida. I must declare here that I didn't read anything before about Derrida in spite of one of my friend's insisting on this issue.

Mery states the quote of Gilles Deleuze about the difference between the Eastern wise-man who thinks by images in a side, and the Western philosopher who thinks in concepts.

I don't claim that I understood that, but I can assure that this saying was imprinted well in my memory for further evaluation. 

Towards the end of the article Mery mentioned one of Roland Barthes quotes: "Writing is that neutral, composite, oblique space where our subject slips away,
the negative where all identity is lost, starting with the very identity of the body writing."

Khudair Mery's last two articles are exciting and encouraging to read more and more. To open a new window. To share my friend, who likes philosophy, some views. To open conversations with some friends. Thank you Khudair Mery and thanks to Al-Sabah.  

Mohamad Ghazi  Al-Akhras wrote today in Al-Sabah. He wrote today about a conversation with a taxi man in Baghdad about the taxi man's brother visit to a psychiatrist and about that psychiatrist strange prescription: "Music, hear tranquilizing music!" 

Mohamad Al-Akhras compared between the music that is composed by Arab Iraqis Vs. music composed by Kurdish Iraqis. The former is sad, the latter is happy and dancing.

Newroz is approaching and is usually celebrated in Kurdistan vigorously. Al-Sabah showed a picture of Kurish females dancing. 

Another picture was from Afghanistan showing a man in traditional clothes standing in front of a poster of Marylyn Monroe.

The 20^th episode of "Known and Unknow:  A Memoir" by Donald Rumsfeld was talking about the arrival of Paul Bremer to Baghdad. I could not read more than 4 or 5 lines then shifted to Al-Mada which talks about the history of the 100% Iraqi-made clock in Al-A'athameya.