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"I don't know who I am in my own country any more! Every day I have to think of a story to tell those thugs that does not include any contact with my Sunni neighbors, that attempts to explain why I do not know any so that I do not have to betray them! And I have to pass all kinds of religious tests to satisfy them that I am a good Muslim! My sons and my daughters are in danger from those people, I don't know how long I can stay there any more!" he said, angrily.
"Be calm, all will be well, insha'allah," said one of the passengers, trying to reassure him. "We are all Iraqis and brothers will not turn against brothers."
"But that's what I'm try to tell you!" shouted the driver, "It is not enough to say that you're an Iraqi any more, these guys are not going to accept an answer like that! If you're the wrong kind of Iraqi in their eyes they will have you out of your house and even have your life! If you don't pass the 'loyalty tests' they set for you it doesn't matter who you are or what you are - you're going to be in trouble."
Everyone could understand the mechanism of what the driver was describing, but it still seemed unreal, it still seemed almost unbelievable that things could disintegrate that way.
"Don't people resist them?" asked another passenger.
"Resist them? They are armed to the teeth, they are everywhere now! They impose 'taxes' on shopkeepers, they are putting people out of their homes and bringing in family and friends from other places - people are too afraid of them to resist them. And they are everywhere in the mosques," he said, grimly.
"Every morning now, when I wake up, I have to ask myself who I am today. I have to think about where I am going, I have to make up a story about my life that satisfies them depending on where I am likely to meet them, I have to make up a story about where I am going that they will approve of. I never had to give a moment's thought to such questions in the past! I really don't know where all this is going, but it's not going to be any good," he said gloomily. "I am Iraqi, or maybe I was Iraqi, but now I have to ask myself who I am and where I belong and where I am going in my life."
At that point he cursed as the car nosed out of the side street and he quickly realised that he had driven into the 'dead zone' between two U.S. army checkpoints. Right turn or left turn, there they were, and he could hardly turn the car around without inviting a hot pursuit with accompanying gunfire.
Everyone cursed as he pulled up at the 'stop' sign and waited to be motioned forward one of the soldiers lurking by the armored vehicles. Instead they sent out a fat Iraqi cop, wearing an ill-fitting uniform, to signal them to move into the checking zone. His eyes widened when he saw one of the passengers - he had served in the Iraqi army with him before - but he said nothing to the Americans as some of them trained their weapons on the car and a red-faced, sweating soldier approached it.
Evidently he was no scholar, as he didn't even have the few mangled pieces of Arabic that some of them had learned from their flash cards, but what he lacked in intellect he tried to compensate for in attitude as he adopted a 'mean look' as he peered into the car.
He looked over at the policeman and said, nodding his head towards the driver, "Ask him who he is, where he's coming from and where he's going to."
The driver's jaw dropped.
The passengers all cracked up, laughing.
"He's a philosopher, just like you, akhi!" one of them said.
The red-faced soldier was not amused.
Without waiting for the assistance of his Iraqi translator, he made his displeasure known.
"What are you ****ing ragheads laughing at?" he demanded angrily.
Some of his comrades were watching with added interest, probably hoping for a chance to 'get mean'. Safety catches were clicked on and off just to let the carload of Iraqis know the precariousness of their position.
Emboldened by this back-up, perhaps, the red-faced soldier leaned into the car and sneered "Baghdad is the a$$hole of the world, you know that?"
One of the Iraqis in the rear seats leaned forward and in a passable John Wayne drawl said:
"Well remember kid, you're just passing through it!"
The driver's face went grey and a couple of the other passengers sucked in their breath, nervously.
Shocked at being replied to in John Wayne-ish, perhaps, the red-faced soldier's countenance registered a rapid display of emotions - suspicion, surprise, puzzlement, suspicion again.....
He locked his 'mean look' on the Iraqi who had spoken, but the Iraqi simply returned his gaze, smiling.
Everyone, including the fat cop, was holding their breath.
Then the soldier spoke.
"Hey! Thanks a lot buddy! I guess that's the best way to look at it!" he said, a grin replacing his 'mean look'.
Everyone laughed again - except the driver.
Seeing the soldier's grin and hearing the laughter, the 'safety catch clicking chorus' lost interest in the exchange. Flushed with the apparent success of his 'hearts and minds' exchange the red-faced soldier called to his colleagues on the barrier "These guys are OK!" and waved the driver on.
As he floored the accelerator the driver cursed them all and accused the John Wayne impersonator of trying to get them all arrested, or beaten, or killed.
But everyone was laughing too hard to pay him any attention.
The moral of this little story is threefold.
First, an Iraqi can insult you in a variety of different ways, and if you aren't paying close attention you might miss it.
Secondly, no matter how much pressure you're under, you can still find a place for laughter.
And thirdly, the driver's agonized questions 'Who am I? Where am I coming from?' and 'Where am I going to?' are very important questions, and deserving of deeper attention than the mechanical questions of the soldier, who while using almost identical words wasn't really looking for answers of any depth.
We all have stories, every one of us. And for people, places and even web sites 'Who are we? Where are we coming from?' and 'Where are we going to?' are very useful pegs to hang our stories on.....
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