Skip to content

Keywords

Articles tagged "Basra"

Salman and the Mule Suicides

My acquaintance with Salman extends back to our military service, to the winter of 1984, I think. In that year I began to serve in a series of units that fought in the mountains, cities, and canebrakes of Kurdistan. Till then, before being ordered to serve in the logistics battalion in a suburb of the city of Sulaimaniya at the Dukan Dam, to be precise, I had served in the Division of Military Veterinary Affairs under the command of the Third Army Corps in Basra. The Iran-Iraq War was...

A Vacation in Basra

February 2005. Violence rages following the invasion of Iraq in 2003, and the southern port city of Basra is dominated by the militants of Muqtada al-Sadr’s Mahdi Army. The British, who are stationed in Basra, are doing little to stem the chaos. Mariusz Zawadzki, a reporter for the Polish newspaper Gazeta Wyborcza, takes a break from reporting on the chaos in Baghdad to travel to Basra—alone. Attempting to drive to Basra—which is about five hundred kilometers from...

The Black Storyteller

If you believe my grandmother's version of the story, then her mother-my great-grandmother Rose Garden-must have been fifty years old when she finally decided to live with "Black Anees" under one roof. And all of the stories agree-that is, the stories of the neighbors, which my grandmother heard when she got older-that Rose Garden was beautiful, in addition to having remained a strange and puzzling character to the women in the Saa'i quarter (I'll leave aside for now speaking...

Edward and the First Geography Lesson

I still remember him like it was yesterday: a small man, elegant in his own special way, entirely different from traditional men's elegance, such as is found in a suit and tie. He used to buy his clothes from secondhand shops-lenga, as we used to call them; he would choose them with care and a taste for beauty. In winter he would wrap a long red scarf around his neck, then, on days when the cold was harshest (in January for instance), he would wear a black leather jacket. I can...

Basra Stories

I was born in Basra many times, in all of the stories that I heard about it-in the stories which were told around me when I was a child, in the images I formed of it during my first trips there with my mother, and in all of the experiences I lived through there in later years. Later I left Basra to roam in exile like a sailor circling the earth, until, with the years, the picture I had of it became a mix of truth and illusion, of reality and fantasy, of the original and invention. I have...

Waltzing Matilda

All I have left from this story is a white Caribbean suit, a Panama hat, and a cassette tape that I've carried persistently in my left shirt pocket. And a pair of white shoes which, if I hadn't lost them in the course of my journey, would complement the suit, which I'm wearing now. It must have been in the autumn. October, to be more exact. Spring doesn't tend to go on for very long in Basra, and one could wear clothes such as these only in a moderate season. It almost...

Like what you read? Help WWB bring you the best new writing from around the world.