before all those feelings desert me

8/9/2019 Before All Those Feelings Desert Me

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Before I Run Out of FeelingsAbu Al Haq

On the Iraqi-Turkish borders, at "Ibraheem Alkhaleel"terminal , the fish there would always be sliding throughthose waters, so smoothly in a most casual way, underneaththat bridge between Iraq & Turkey and I find myself askingme, once viewing them, " To whom do those fish belong? ".

Is to Iraq and Zakho, farthest north of both , or to Shernaq,

extreme south of Turkey?And if any hypothetical fish language is to have many accentsin return , what accent then would be used by that singlefish , that very fish crossing the bridge axis ,right now, fromright to left?Would it beBahdinaniKurdish accent , orShernaqiKurdishone?Or, would it be Turkish in stead?

To whom does that fish of the borderline belong in deed?And to whom do we, human beings too, belong , the verymoment we live the same "departure" stance ? How can ourbelonging be a switching one, due to merely walking a fewmeters, or even hundreds of them too?


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Such a great difference is that one, parting the two habitats,right of the bridge, and left of it , such a great difference!At that gate where hell turns into a heaven, at that spot Ipaused for a while, right ahead of me, the Turkish "Habur"

check point watching me, likewise too, was the Iraqi Khaleelcheck point doing , leering at me from behind .

I felt an insistent need inside me to convince myself, forthose unfinished issues, asking me this time to be resolved .

I left that point right behind me.."I have just abandoned a whole homeland behind me, do you

know it, Qardash"?Such were my words for the Turkish military guy, he whoseemed to understand none of what I have said in Arabic,nevertheless, he kept smiling, shaking his hands as if todeclare his surrender .." I am no longer a living human being ,I am no more than apalm tree which managed to pull itself ,by itself ,out of itssoil, would you believe it ???"This was how I concluded to him, while he kept being

irresponsive at all.." I have just left a whole geography , history, and sociology, Ihave deserted a heritage aging tens of years, hundreds ofmonths, thousands of days, will you understand it, will youstill be getting it if I am to stop and quit talking?? "" I did quit the country where my memories flourished andgrew, but here it is all , sneaking right into the core of mymemory, once again!! "

"I just can't break free from it, same as it can never do, too, Iguess it will never work out fine, like that singer says !"" I left a whole pack of pain and hope, of shame andconsolation, of pessimism and optimism, ofopsimism * .."" I left roaring giggles, and moments that I had saved forsuch a long long time, never allowing my memory to set


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them free, for the sake of some warmth into my heart, whenthe converging life of mine strikes in total cold and frost "..And all at once, a movie-like strip of shots showed in mymind, so fast , I have been to this scene , each time I was

going through a car crash..A dense cloud of steam in a bathroom, almost choking anewly-born infant , would you believe it if I told you that itwas me there ??And the smell of the burnt palm leaves near those slums,children plays and the smell of Tigris muddy waters, invitingme to come and drown there..An image of me and my neighbors, carrying the ladles of

boiled wheat grains to their rooftops, spreading it to dry overthe clean and washed surface, further to steal some handfulsof it, laughing all very joyfully ,before stepping down onceagain to the garden, repeating it again and again.. where hadall that joy gone?Could the moments of joy be annihilated ? Or is it foreverconserved, like matter and energy ?My young friend, having been just hit on the head with thetractor coupling , killed right at once, why does his tongue

drop this low? Many too many have I seen this scene of deathlater on, but not quite that early !!And my teacher, slapping me on the face six consecutivetimes, for a single joke that I had spoken, got the whole classlaughing, why do those slaps still hurt? Is laughter to berewarded with slaps ?Endless laughter from my late study times, still echoing tillthis day, as if a tape recording, incidences deep inside my

memory, clinging to it, I guess I am going to have themburied next to me when I depart this life .And those days of the early war ,the blasts of shells aroundme, and the sands of "Chnana " splintering all around me,while the moon is full that night , I guess now that it wasalmost a quick farewell one ..


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Such is the trip of life of everybody , lots of cries and wailingwhile being born, followed by total unconsciousness ,for tensof years to follow , to further crying and wailing once again,but by the spectators this timewhat a waste, always such a

short span of lifetime.Such is the trip of life between life and death.

I love you,Haburterminal , for you are one white blank pagethat I am about to grab right now, only a few minutes awayfrom me. Many are the times that I had dreamed of passingyou all those years of the last century, without any hope, indeed .

I yearn for you,AlKhaleel terminal , while my feet are stillnot away from you, I love my life that lies behind you ..I love you..I hate youI hate you. I love youI love you..I hate youI hate you. I love youI love you..I hate you

My white rose ran out of its petals , so I turned to my mate toborrow his rose ,for the hope of making love prevail , but hejust refused , said it violates the rules of this (luck game)!!"Please, bend the rule and allow for a little bluff ", I pleaded," .. same as everything is going in Iraq today, where all therules ,all the laws , all the logic and the UN actions , are anybut logical?? Why not treat it as that WMD grand hoax ,likethat Kuwaiti incubators lie, isn't it right, that every body is

not playing it right?"Being denied of this request, I was made to borrow anadditional petal , using my own imagination, one othermocking trick, so that I might end up my game with yet oneother final "Love Ya "!!.


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Do I " adore you ", or is it " I abhor you ", in stead?I really am not certain what my heart is feeling for you..Are you a new gate for the coming life of mine?Or is it that you are just a terminal of an expired one?

And for whom do I really belong ?Missed parameters ,and inverted feelings ..Lost hopes and extinct lifetimes ..An imposed life pattern, a pre-destined ending !!

I really am to wonder,What is it that I could have done, but chose not to do?And what is that thing, that I should have avoided doing it ?

Is it just because of all this that I am negotiating the bridgeof life?Is it just for all this that I take the trouble to breath andsigh? And dwell into death's final times ?

What an anguish and loss it is , that your feet carry youonwards , while the eyes are turning around, headingbackwards?What kind of suffering it is , to have your heart twinned to

your habitat, yet, rejecting most of its details ?What kind of a loss can this one be, where you don't belong,and yet, finding no welcoming lap to receive you ?And how can anyone pluck this sprout out of the heart ?Anyidea how?Why is it that we, human beings, are haunted by love for ourhomelands, but are always complaining of what we earnthere?

What is the means of maintaining our passion for Iraq,against its enemies, while this love is being opposed by theacts of too many fellow Iraqis ?A big ,multi-branched question , that I am tackling , just afew moments before I cross the gates of life, running dry ofany memories.


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Ibraheem Alkhaleel: Iraqi side of that border terminal,( Ibraheem

Alkhaleel is for Prophet Abraham himself) .Bahdinani: One of the two main ethnicities of Iraqi Kurds, those

occupying the northern/north-eastern parts of

Iraq, closest to the Turkish borders .Shernaqi: Of that southern part of Turkey, with Kurdish

majority occupying it .

Qardash: The common term to address any Turkish fellow in caseYou don't know his name (like" Sahib" in India )

Opsimism: An improvised term for a counter improvised

Arabic one in the original text , meaning " bothpessimist & optimist" !

Chnana: An Iranian village near the south-eastern Iraqi borders ,for memories of relevant wartime bombings back in1981, during the First Gulf War .

Habur: Turkish side of that border terminal, "Habur" itself isthe name of the river flowing underneath the bridge .

before all those feelings desert me

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