An article from the new York Times really caught my eye. Normally, I wouldn’t read stuff about Baghdad anymore because I feel sick and tired of the war. But this is a new angle. It wasn’t about the American soldiers anymore or about the hundred’s of Iraqis dying. This one is about the death of the Mutanabi Street market which was the source of joy of Baghdad’s intelligentsia.
Mr. Ismail turned and faced the street. “Books, books: five books for 1,000 dinars, one for 250,” he shouted, his voice thick as a tenor’s, from his years of studying acting. “Come on, come on, those who are hungry for literature!”
Exactly 15 men looked on.
I cannot imagine how life for these men had been for the past year when a daytime curfew was imposed for almost a year. Mutanabi is the capital’s 1,000-year-old intellectual core and that day, which was a Friday, people celebrated the market’s potential revival.
A bombing on March 5 sealed this beautiful business and it hasn’t been opened until now.
Despite people dying because of the war, the booksellers are slowly testing their freedom by opening their beloved bookshops for business.
Here is the paragraph that really tugged at my heart strings:
Books, on the other hand, brought reliable joy. Mr. Ismail picked up a black hardcover history of the Kurds, with an attractive photo on the front. Tapping it twice with his right hand, sending dust flying, he kissed the cover and said, “We are happy to be here again with these beautiful books.”
Imagine the solace and comfort these books are giving to people like Mr. Ismail who have been haunted by the horrors war have brought to Iraq.
Here is a poem written by Ibn Al-Utri:
Baghdad in the ninth century, after rampaging armies destroyed the city in a dispute involving caliphate succession.
“Who invaded you, Baghdad?” Mr. Shatry said, his voice rising for the performance.
Weren’t you once as dear to me as my eye?
Wasn’t there a time when people lived within you, when being neighbors was a blessing?
Then the crow came and divided them. How much grief can you endure?
I swear by God, there are people lost who, whenever I remember them, my eyes start flowing with tears.
I am glad that the comfort I have always found in reading books have reached even war-torn Iraq. That despite the terrors war have brought upon them, they haven’t forgotten the beauty and warmth of books. =)
