One thing that I have always found so frustrating about the discussions from this administration insofar as the occupation of Iraq is the complete inability to view their actions from the perspectives of Iraqis. The Neo-Cons driving the policy are so convinced of their superiority and the rightness of their beliefs that the idea that these backwards little brown people might not agree doesn't even cross through their consciousness.
Riverbend at Baghdad Burning has been a beautiful and poignant, if recently sporadic, voice of the Iraqis (which makes me fear for her safety). Gorilla's Guide also provides a voice, and I found this recent diary heartbreaking and wish desperately that I could have all of those dithering senators be forced to hear it and answer for their inability to come together for even a toothless resolution.
When I heard the bomb explode last Saturday the first thing I did was telephone my father. But there was no reply. Again and again and again I tried to phone him. My fingers hurt I stabbed them onto the buttons on my phone so hard. I fell onto the floor and prayed please let him not be dead. Please let it be that he died quick if he is dead.
And my heart was sick inside me.
What will we talk about today you and I? I do not want to talk about last Saturday. Shall we talk about peace? I would like to talk about peace. I love the word. No, perhaps we are not ready to talk of peace yet you and I, we are not at peace, we are not even at truce.
My father is one of the organisers for the men who protect the people in our neighbourhood who have fled here from the death squads. When they go to get food we go to the market with them my father, my brother, myself, some of the men in our neighbourhood.
They do the same for us.
What will we talk about today you and I? I do not want to talk about last Saturday. Shall we talk about peace? I would like to talk about peace. I love the word. No, perhaps we are not ready to talk of peace yet you and I, we are not at peace, we are not even at truce.
Does "peace" mean that your aunt does not weep as she talks of how the young couples she serves ask her after the X-Ray
Well is it a child or is it a monster?
And how she curses the Americans who littered our land with Uranium munitions and then denied us the cancer drugs. Because we needed to be,
contained.
We sand niggers who had been abandoned to the tyrant you had supported for years needed to be,
contained.
And though it was hard for you, though compassion swelled in your noble and peaceful heart we sand niggers needed to be,
contained
For my own good. I needed to be,
contained.
The new world order and the peace dividend required that the sand niggers be contained, and you assured the world, that I was indeed,
contained,
You told me that though it was hard for you :
We think the price is worth it.
Shall we talk about peace you and I? I would like to talk about peace. I love the word. No, perhaps we are not ready to talk of peace yet you and I, we are not at peace, we are not even at truce.
Will we talk about how the Americans urged our people to rise against the tyrant? Will we talk about that you and I? Will we talk about what happened to the men who believed the American lies and rose?
What shall we talk about you and I?
