Update on current life:
Sorry I have been busy with my future. I really can't go on in life without a career. I have decided to set up my own business. Will let you know when I tell you all about my life.
Back to the past
So after I met Mr. A the owner of the restaurant, the next week I started to make my way towards Sadoun street. It was a cloudy day and I had lectures all day long. I made my way through Tahreer Square and turned left to buy my favourite magazine ( Alf Baa) at my favourite newspaper man.
I then made my way towards Sadoun street and arrived at the restaurant. Work was not that hard. I found it really fun.
This went on for two weeks until the son of Mr. A arrived. One Friday, Mr. A called me to give me my weekly wage.
Mr A.- My daughter (that is what he was calling me) my wife is ill and I can not come to work anymore. But my son will be here. Don't worry he will treat you like your sister.
- OK uncle. God bless your wife. If you want I can come to help her.
Mr. A- No darling only me can understand her. If you tell her sky is blue, she will say it is green, if you say it is green, she will say it is yellow and laughed nervously.
For the next week, I arrived at work at normal time after university. My living conditions improved and I could eat during my break times at university. So I was not hungry when I arrived at work.
K, the son of Mr. A, was not as decent as his dad. I went to change my clothes at the back, and closed the door. Someone immediately knocked on the door.
- Hang on a minute. I am coming out.
I went out and saw him waiting there. I said "What is wrong ?"
K- Nothing" Amourti" (My princess).
- Sorry don't talk to me like that. I am only here for work.
K- Work ?! Who lets someone like you to work ?
-Sorry I have to go customers are waiting.
As I tried to make my way pass him, he grabbed my breasts and squeezed them.
I turned around and hit him very hard and slapped him twice and shouted (Adabsis) (Iraqi slang for immoral).
I felt so angry I just went back to the room and slammed the door. I dressed and left work and never went back to that place again.
Life went from bad to worse, and from worse to worst. I called J one day and said I want to talk to you.
I met J in Abu Nawas street which looks over Tigris. The best street in all Iraq.
She took me to one of the fish-grilling restaurants and ordered the most expensive meal.
- J I can't afford that you know.
J - Who said I let you pay ?!
- Darling I will quit university. Life is too hard. Can you imagine that I am wearing the same clothes for over a month ?!
J- Honey will you let me talk ? Please don't be angry and don't react. I will tell you a plan you just decide whether you like it or not. How is that ?!
- OK go ahead.
To be continued.
I think it is better for me do divide my posts into three section. First to deal with the comments, then another section to deal with my current life, then another section to tell my past stories.
But for you to understand my current situation, you have to know some knowledge about my past.
American music rocked Baghdad this morning, just at the time I woke up. Anyways Here is what the critics say about this blog :
- There is no lawyers in Iraq to deal with divorce cases.
You must think Iraq and especially Baghdad, the capital of civilization for centuries, is like Kabul ?! You can get married in a court, and you can get married with a Sheikh. If you want a legal marriage, the court is there for you. Then when I mentioned "Called lawyers", I left something for your imagination. If you don't have the ability to imagine how that happened, you may need to see a doctor or a psychiatrist. Me and my husband did not sit on the sofa thinking "Oh, let me call the lawyers and get divorced." He was constantly beating me before the divorce. I was a young teen, not a grown up woman. I left his tiny home and went back to my parents' house. My dad was an educated man and didn't believe in Sheikhs. He encouraged me to read Jibran Khaleel Jibran's books since I was 10. He called a friend who was a lawyer, and told him to file a case against my husband in which I demanded a divorce. The bastard would not let me go. Look at this mentality, if he doesn't say "I divorce you, I divorce you, I divorce you" you are still his wife. I went through a lot of hells for that which I didn't want to go into details. I am not going into details of every incident just because there are some backward people who can not accept that there are women in Iraq who are working as mistresses (I wouldn't use the degrading words of whore etc).
- There are no Channel clothes in Iraq
Honey you are right. If you have been shopping in Shorjah and Suq (Arabic Market) you are %110 right. But if you have been shopping in Karada and Jadiriyah etc you would have found not just Channel, but every other single world fashion design in some of the shops.
Now back to the past.
For the other day, after my boring long lectures at university, I moved my way towards Sadoun. I found the restaurant XY and went in.
Waiter - Hello Madam have a seat.
- Er... (I didn't know how to start to ask for the boss).
Waiter- (didn't give me a second to say a word). We have the best food. Have a seat let me get you a Bard (bard means cold and it is slang for Pepsi or Cola).
- Sorry I am not here to eat. Thank you.
Waiter- (Looking at my chest). So what are you here for then ?!
-Can I speak with the boss ?! Mr. A
Waiter- Yeah sure sure. Sorry Madam. Are you his daughter ? Sorry Madam.
- Can I speak to him ?!
Waiter- Sure sure this way Madam. He is in his office Madam. Sorry Madam.
I went in and introduced myself to Mr. A as J's friend.
Mr. A- I was waiting for you. I am sorry for all that happened. I was your dad's friend too. They left us in a very sad way. These drivers nowadays drive to murder.
- (when he mentioned my parents, I started to cry).
Mr. A- Oh don't cry my daughter. They are with God now. You should be proud of your dad. He didn't hurt even a fly in his life. He only had his books. What a nobel man he was.
- Thank you uncle. (I just called him uncle and it was very strange as I have never had one).
Mr. A- J told me about your situation and I know how hard life must be for you. If you have free time in the evening, you can come and work until 9 or 10. I will pay you for the whole day just like my other workers.
- Thank you uncle. But I like to be paid for what I do.
Mr. A- No no my daughter. You are a great girl just like your dad. If you had exams you can tell me and I let you go early. Sometimes my son will be here I will tell him to do the same if I wasn't here.
- Thank you so much uncle I really don't know how to thank you.
Mr. A- (Shouting - Ali Ali. Get us 2 chaii - teas -). OK the job is very easy. I know how our customers are. You can serve and take orders from the families who come here. They are not a lot, but we always do have some families and women in the restaurant.
- Sure uncle.
Ali- (entering the room) Here you go Sir. I didn't put sugar as you always order. I put sugar for the Madam.
At this moment the tea arrived. Mr. A a man in his sixties, started to tell me a story about my dad....
Rest of the story for another day.
I am appalled at the comments by the Iraqi males on this blog. I feel sorry for Iraq not for my blog. Becaus the idea of blog was to get the dark clouds out of my heart not to be a publicity stunt.
If we ever had enough real men in Iraq, we would not be under American boots today. Sorry Iraqi men, but from my experience with you, we either have men like Chalabi, or Saddam, all qa7ubchi as you name yourselves. And you choose where in between you are.
Now only registered users can comment, and if you force me to do so, I will disallow the comments section.
Back to where I was yesterday. (J arriving at my place).
We just sat there trying to avoid any eye contacts for around 10 minutes. I was actually very angry at her. She once told me that she has slept with another man, but later she said she was joking. The silence went on for another couple of minutes.
She has not been to my house since my parents went away. Let's just say, not in a natural way.
The last time she came, the house was full of souls, all moaning and wearing dark. These were my thoughts as I was looking at the windows.
She broke the silence "I apologize if I shocked you".
J- But I thought S told you. (S was another friend). She said she will tell everyone.
- Honey the problem is not with S or anyone. How could you do that ?! What about your parents ?!
J- I don't live with them anymore. Don't tell me that is another surprise ?
-Please let's stop this. What do you want ?
J- I came to help you. I think I have found you a job.
- What ? (At this stage I was very angry, I just waited for her to say what kind of job. I decided in my mind that if she said anything related to her job I'd smash her head).
J- Look I know someone who has a restaurant. He will give you a job. Waitress. How is that ?
- I smiled but tried not to show it. Which restaurant ?!
J- Restaurant XY one in Sadoun. You can go in the evenings and the boss is a very nice guy. He is a proper Muslim.
-Cool. How can I start ?!
J- You just go in tomorrow and introduce yourself and say J has sent me.
Thank you honey let me get you a chaii - tea -.
The rest of my story for another day.
OK everyone. I am back to the old computer again. I am shocked of the number of readers this blog had yesterday. I never thought that anyone would read. Well if you are willing to read, let me start with my story…..
I was a young girl, as pretty as rose, I got married to a someone, let's call him X2. X2 did not turn up the man he showed he was. Bad habits, big gap in age, just didn't work out.
We called the lawyers, and signed the divorce papers. At the same time my parents died. So what could a girl like me would do ?!
A university student, still a teen, errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr, I looked for a job.
I first started by calling family and friends. "Can you find me a job please ?"
Most of the replies were "Why a rose like you would work ?! How can you let that beauty be ruined ?!
Or "Oh a doll like you should be just looked at "
OK. Now stop it. I just want a job. I turned to my friend J. J was a close friend in school but she was very secretive. She told me that she was working in her dad's office as a secretary. So I said she might be able to find me a job like hers.
I called her J and said I want to meet. We met in one of the places overlooking the gorgeous Tigris, my favourite river of the world.
So J, how is work ?!
J: Yeah pretty well..I am sorry things did not work out for you.
Yeah thanks. Well I am looking for a job..Maybe your dad could hire me, I can type very well.
J: I don't work with my dad. Are you stupid ?!
Well you said you were...?!
J: Are you stupid or trying to be one ?!
Well I am not..but...
J: Honey you don't wanna know where I work..
Yeah seriously please tell me..I am dying for a job...Life is hard you know
J: OK. I am dad's secretary..
J: No buts, now you trying to be stupid again.
Wait a minute are you playing at me ? Please tell me.
J: honey I work as escort...
What ? Your immoral bitch.
J: Yeah I do f*** men for money. They think they fuck me , but I fuck them.
You bitch nasty f***ing whore...Leave me alone I would never talk to you.
So I left. Boiling in anger and disappointment. A good friend is working in business....Not a usual business.
Went back home....Just sat on the couch and thought and thought and thought and thought. I was totally lost in thinking.....Memories...sometimes I was smiling...a minute I was crying...Memories just went by and by...Suddenly...a phone call broke the silence....
Hey it is me J.
What you want from me ?! I will hang up on you bitch.
J- Wait a minute..It might not be that bad as you think. Can I come and talk to you ?
J- I know that you are angry at me..Honey please let me come and explain.
J- I am in the neighbourhood, please ?!
....OK Ring the bell 6 times like we used to do in school. I wouldn't open door for strangers.
Tomorrow for the rest.
Woke up and did some house works. Prepared lunch and when boredom started, I moved to the computer which usually needs half an hour to get ready to work.
I checked my emails, and said let me see if anyone, just anyone, has read my thoughts. I was surprised that I have attracted some people. Mohammad thank you for your comment I usually read your blog. But I get confused by names. Sometimes it says Mohammad, then posted by Omar.
Iraqi wife thank you for your comments as well. Honey I did not mean that I support Saddam. The sounds of the massgraves were so high they were hearing it in Washington and London. The question is not why I did not hear these sounds, you should ask them why they didn't hear them. Because they are the ones who could have stopped him [Saddam] not me honey.
Moving on, to the comments, it is not surprising that most of the negative comments are coming from the Yankees themselves. They are supposed to live in a liberty promised state. What happened to old liberties Yankees ? Or America does not have any liberties ?
From two years of studying and analyzing of Yankees people, what I realized is that Yankees are a group of conservative religious crusaders desguised under the name of liberals. They can be as religious as they want, that is totally fine. Totally liberal, totally accepted. If you attack another country under the name of "Crusade" as Bush did in 2003, that is totally fine, totally liberal, totally accepted. But if a Muslim practices his religion, that that person is a terrorist.
Very true beautiful colors.
Anyways moving on to more about this blog, the idea is not to get clients, being a mistress was part of my life and I like to talk about it. The idea of blogger gave me the chance to stay anonymous and staying safe, I hope.
The idea is to get the stories out that are covering my heart like a dark cloud.
And if you are just wondering, I am not an old woman, I am a university graduate with top grades and in my mid twenties.
I was not stopping by for cars to pick me up, I was more the private kind, the ones you have to have an appointment.
I was not a Baathiest. Let's just say, had a not very happy marriage, divorced, parents died, and thanks to the Yankees embargo on Iraqis, it was a bit hard to make ends meet.
My first post as an Iraqi Mistress
So hello to whoever reads my blog, I guess not a lot.
I have been following Iraqi blogs for over a year now. I read Baghdad Burning and Baghdad Turning and Baghdad Healing and a few more. I am totally so full up of nationalist blogs and pro-American blogs.
I was inspired by Neurotic Iraqi and decided to mark today as my first post.
Today is the day since I have been jobless for 2 years. Do you think I really care about Osama son of bitch ?! That is the Yankees problem not mine.
What ? What was my job ? I was a mistress. A proud mistress. Yes I used to sleep with married men to get money because my university degree could not get me Channel clothes.
What ? I can't hear you. You think that Iraqi women are hairy wrapped up monsters ? Are you an American ?! Yes ?! No wonder.
Stupid American morons think that Iraqi women are nasty hairy monsters. They don't know that Iraq has been the country for beautiful women and wine and music 8000 years ago.
But thanks to the Americans, me and thousands like me are jobless. Music has vanished from Baghdad's skies. It is replaced with the sounds of mortars, helicopters, and tanks.
Welcome to Baghdad. The city of music and life, until 2003.