ProgressiveTrail.org, United States
Dec 27, 2003
Christmas in Baghdad
by Jo Wilding
Published by Wildfire
Explosions and bombing almost all day yesterday and deep into the
night. At some points it gets hard to tell who is bombing who?
Resistance or Americans? Tanks or mortars? Cluster bombs or IEDs?
Nothing on the news… to see the reports on CNN, Abu Dhabi, and
Al-Arabia you’d think there was nothing going on in Baghdad beyond
the usual thumps and thuds. Yesterday was *very* unusual. Embassies,
mines, residential areas and the Green Zone… and the sirens. I
hate the sirens. I can stand the explosions, the rattling windows,
the slamming doors, the planes, the helicopters… but I feel like
my heart is wailing when I hear the sirens.
The explosions haven’t really put anyone in a very festive spirit. The
highlight of the last few days, for me, was when we went to our
Christian friends’ home to keep them company on Christmas Eve. We
live in a neighborhood with a number of Christian families and, under
normal circumstances, the area would be quite festive this time of
year- little plastic Santas on green lawns, an occasional plastic
wreath on a door and some colored, blinking lights on trees.
Our particular friends (Abu Josef’s family) specialized in the lights.
Every year, a week before Christmas, they would not only decorate their
own plastic tree (evergreens are hard to come by in Iraq), but they
would decorate 4 different olive trees in the little garden in front
of their home with long strings of red lights. Passing by their house,
the scene of the green olive trees with branches tangled in little
red lights always brought a smile… you couldn’t help but feel the
‘Christmas spirit’- Christians and Muslims alike.
This year the trees weren’t decorated because, as their father put it,
“We don’t want to attract too much attention… and it wouldn’t be
right with the electricity shortage.” The tree inside of their house
*was* decorated, however, and it was almost sagging with ornaments. The
traditional tree ornaments were hanging, but the side of the tree
was covered with not-so-traditional Pokemon toys. Their 8-year-old
is an avid collector of those little Pokemon finger puppets and the
bottom section of the tree was drooping with the weight of the little
plastic figures which took Iraq by storm a couple of years ago.
Kids in Iraq also believe in Santa Claus, but people here call him
‘Baba Noel’ which means, “Father Noel”. I asked the children what
he looked like and they generally agreed that he was fat, cheerful,
decked in red and had white hair. (Their impertinent 11-year-old
explains that he’s fat because of the dates, cheerful because of the
alcohol and wears red because he’s a communist!) He doesn’t drop into
Iraqi homes through the chimney, though, because very few Iraqi homes
actually have chimneys. He also doesn’t drop in unexpectedly in the
middle of the night because that’s just rude. He acts as more of an
inspiration to parents when they are out buying Christmas gifts for
the kids; a holiday muse, if you will. The reindeer are a foreign
concept here.
The annual ritual around Christmas for many Christians in Baghdad used
to be generally hanging out with family and friends on Christmas Eve,
exchanging gifts and food (always food- if you’re Iraqi, it’s going to
be food) and receiving guests and well-wishers. At 12 am, many would
attend a Christmas service at their local church and light candles to
greet the Christmas spirit. Christmas day would be like our first day
of Eid- eating and drinking, receiving family, friends and neighbors
and preparing for the inevitable Christmas party in the evening at
either a friend’s house or in one of the various recreational clubs
in Baghdad. The most famous for their Christmas parties were the
Hindiya club and the Armenian club.
This year, the Christmas service was early and many people didn’t go
because they either didn’t have gasoline, or just didn’t feel safe
driving around Baghdad in the evening. Many of them also couldn’t join
their families because of the security situation. Abu Josef’s family
have aunts and uncles in a little village north of Mosul. Every year,
the extended relatives come down and stay in their house for a week
to celebrate Christmas and New Year. This year they’ve decided to
stay in their village because it just isn’t safe to leave their home
and head for Baghdad.
At one point during the evening, the house was dark and there was no
electricity. We sat, gathered around on the ground, eating date-balls
and watching Abu Josef’s dog chew on the lowest branch of the tree.
The living room was lit by the warm light radiating from the kerosene
heater and a few Christmas candles set on the coffee table. Abu Josef’s
phone suddenly rang shrilly and Abu Josef ran to pick it up. It was
his brother in Toronto and it was the perfect Christmas gift because
it was the first time Abu Josef got an overseas call since the war- we
were all amazed. An Iraqi phone conversation goes like this these days:
III= Iraqi Inside Iraq
IOI= Iraqi Outside Iraq
Ring, ring
III: Alloo?
IOI: ALLOO?!
III: ALLOOOO? MINNOOO? (Hello? Who is it?)
IOI: ABU (fill in the blank)??! Shlonkum? (How are you?)
III: Aaaagh! Is it really you?!
(Chorus of family in the background, “Who is it?! Who is it?!”)
IOI: How are… (the voice cracks here with emotion) you?
III: We’re… (the line crackles) …and is doing well.
IOI: I CAN’T HEAR YOU! Doing well? Thank God…
III: Alloo? Alloo…? (speaker turns to speak to someone in the
background, “Sshhh… I can’t hear anything!” The family go silent
and hold their breaths. )
III: Alloo? Alloo?!
IOI: Alloo? Yes, yes, your voice is back- are you ok?
III: Fine, fine.
IOI: Is my mother ok? My brothers and sisters?
III: All fine… we’re fine, thank God.
IOI: Thank God (the voice cracks again)
III: How are you? (a vague echo with ‘you…you… you…’)
IOI: We’re fine but terribly worried about all of YOU…
III: Don’t worry- we’re doing alright… no electricity or fuel,
but we’ll be alright…
IOI: (crackling line… fading voices) … tried and tried to call
but… (more crackling line) … and we heard horrible…. (static)
III: Alloo? Alloooooooo? Are you there? (silence on the other end)
III: Alloo? If you can hear me, I can’t hear you… (the hovering
relatives all hold their breath)
III: … I still can’t hear you… if you can hear me just know
that we’re fine. We’re ok. We’re alive and wondering about
your health. Don’t worry… yallah, ma’a al salama… don’t
worry. Alloo… Alloo…?
And everyone exhales feeling a bit more relieved and a little bit empty
as the phone is returned to the cradle and the momentous event passes.
Although it’s late- Merry Christmas.
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