Christal Cooper
Guest Blogger:
Poet Faleeha
Hassan,
The Maya
Angelou of Iraq
We age at
the speed of war
By
Faleeha Hassan
God
never asked us when he threw his warning
by
saying: become. We were children stuttering
in
the whispers of sleeping homes.
We
ran to schools surrounded by our mothers’
prayers
that feared everything.
But
the head mistress shortened our lives with a quiet sentence:
‘we’ll return after the
end of the war… in 10 days only’,
in
her Kurdish accent.
So
we, the students, remained, gathered in the school yard
Wide
eyed, our souls bewildered and afraid.
the
days stretched and became years;
we
separated. The sons to the battleground
and
the girls to the waiting steps.
my
friends never returned.
their
leftovers were gathered in wooden boxes
decorated
with holes of separation.
my
mother, like us, suffered from waiting;
she
sat beside us awaiting my father,
who
used to return a time and leave many times;
we
didn’t know where he went.
To
avoid a question he’d say: to the mobile frontline.
we
started to collect our days and stuff them in calendars.
In
our grief we painted our eyes with the dust
of
graveyards. There was nothing but the banners
(long
live the leader).
and
yes, he lived long enough to stitch one war with another.
my
father’s sister counts her children with her days
they
never returned.
In
one wake she said goodbye
to
all of them
then
vowed for a long silence.
‘we left the war as
winners’
hah
the
leader said
‘lets go to my second
war’
the
soldiers knew nothing about it.
my
mother counts my brother’s soldier belts,
she
knows the battles are a loosing game.
we
hunger.
we
hunger,
as
the leader’s belly grows.
He
appears, crying on the channels;
‘I only have one suit’,
And
behind the screen, he marries his son in a golden aeroplane.
‘Don’t worry’
My
neighbour pats his son’s back,
‘I returned from the war
alive and will stay.’
He
rushes before the light of dawn to the hospitals
And
the pennies in his veins he invested.
my
sister sits,
putting
her baby to sleep, she sings: ‘I want the
war to never return,
And you stay for me.
make up for your father
who left us without rerun.
The martyr of wars.’
But
she’s bad,
A
hypocrite;
So
crafty;
she
eavesdrops, and as soon as he grows she steals him.
‘Don’t you have enough?’
Will
there be a day that I can surround my family
with
quiet – like other people?
Will
there be a day that I count my wishes
in
a notepad and they come true?
I
am no woman if I don’t speak to you face to face.
And
this gesture does not suit you.
You
are but the worst free spirit.
*Translated
by Dikra Ridha
I was born in 1967 in Najaf, Iraq, where I have
been widely published. I consider myself
a pioneer bringing my poetry and writing skills to contribute to the cultural
enrichment of my war torn country and many other countries around the world.
It would seem strange, indeed, that
Iraq, a country at war with itself and its neighbors since the early 1980’s,
has given birth to a me, a woman, who has crafted beautiful poetry and short
stories in my country and has accomplished so much under such difficult conditions.
In my male dominated society, I have
earned my place in literary history with sheer persistence and determination to
get my message across to my readers and I have been honored for my body of work
in many countries. While I have experienced
the horrors of war, I continue to write about my own unique vision of my people
and life itself.
I received my Master of Arts degree in Arabic
literature from University of Kufa, in Najif, Iraq, in 2006. I have published several collections of my
poetry in the Arabic language. I am a noted poet and novelist, having published
twelve books, a playwright, having written three plays, and author of over 50
short stories and a children’s book of poetry.
I
have been both an editor of a poetry magazine, Banqya Quarterly in Najif, Iraq
(2004-2011) and a newspaper of general circulation, Sada Alnareen, 2006-2011in
Najif, Iraq. I currently sit on the
Editorial Boards of two publications.
Over 100 newspaper articles have been
written about my poetry and me and I have received many prestigious awards
throughout the Middle East and beyond for my writing. I am still active in the cultural activities
of my country of which one play is currently being performed in Iraq.
I have taught high school Arabic
language and literature since my undergraduate degree in 1995. I presently live in New Jersey.
This is a truly amazing poem.
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