Baghdad
Baghdad
1972–1998
I was born into a family that built its own house — literally. My father, Noel, worked for free for years so that a contractor's idle crews would raise four walls for us in Al-Dora. What followed was a childhood of weekly family barbecues in my Uncle Samir's garden, soccer on unpaved streets, and two wars and a decade of sanctions running underneath all of it like a second soundtrack.
“Shall we have a barbecue this time, or perhaps something from the kitchen?” The debate over the menu was a familiar chorus, while we children eagerly anticipated the fun that would follow. No one ever worried about balancing the costs, though the joy was always shared equally.
Also from this chapter of my life
- Shahrazad Arabic poetry.