Brainy Badger #3
Saddam raped his wife's sister.
It wasn't Saddam himself, of course, but whenever the Feyadeen came trolling through his neighborhood, shouts of warning would rise up, "Saddam is coming!" A convoy of expensive foreign cars would roll slowly by and an arm would extend from a partially-lowered window, gesturing towards one of the women that was scurrying for hiding. The black clad troops would leap from their truck, seizing the woman for the Colonel's nightly entertainment. Upon her return in the morning, she was usually dead by her own hand before sundown.
His wife's young sister had not been one of these random targets, as if that made it any better. Mahmood had been a history professor at Baghdad University, attempting to drill some measure of perspective into young minds narrowed by decades of Ba'athist political doctrine and growing religious extremism. Eventually, one of his students took umbrage at Mahmood's attempts at discipline, denouncing him to the Feyadeen as anti-Saddam. Within a week, his sister was defiled and dead. While dropping off her empty-eyed, still-walking corpse the sergeant sneered, "this is your warning".
When the Americans came, Mahmood served as a translator, making him a natural target for the flood of Saudi zealots appearing on the streets, often right under the noses of the Americans, who couldn't tell them apart from Iraqis. They were there to kill Americans, but killing those who worked for the Americans was a highly enjoyable bonus. After the bombing, Mahmood convinced a symapthetic American captain to help him obtain a refugee visa to the United States.
A year later, as he waited in a hospital among wounded former American soldiers for the harried Veterans Administration plastic surgeon to assess his burn-scarred face, he noticed a disturbingly familiar name on the TV screen. Something had happened at Saddam's Abu Graib prison. As he watched the story and saw the eerily familar pictures, fear gripped his heart -- these were the same images that the Feyadeen used to post when they particularly wanted to shame a victim. But now, the leering image in the foreground was a female American soldier.
He followed the story obsessively, tracking it through investigations, congressional debates, and reports of trials on CNN. He found a measure of hope -- at least the Feyadeen had not been punished when they committed these crimes. At least the Americans saw that it was wrong.
But nonetheless, he prayed day and night. He begged Allah to bestow His blessing upon the United States. Let her not become Saddam.
It wasn't Saddam himself, of course, but whenever the Feyadeen came trolling through his neighborhood, shouts of warning would rise up, "Saddam is coming!" A convoy of expensive foreign cars would roll slowly by and an arm would extend from a partially-lowered window, gesturing towards one of the women that was scurrying for hiding. The black clad troops would leap from their truck, seizing the woman for the Colonel's nightly entertainment. Upon her return in the morning, she was usually dead by her own hand before sundown.
His wife's young sister had not been one of these random targets, as if that made it any better. Mahmood had been a history professor at Baghdad University, attempting to drill some measure of perspective into young minds narrowed by decades of Ba'athist political doctrine and growing religious extremism. Eventually, one of his students took umbrage at Mahmood's attempts at discipline, denouncing him to the Feyadeen as anti-Saddam. Within a week, his sister was defiled and dead. While dropping off her empty-eyed, still-walking corpse the sergeant sneered, "this is your warning".
When the Americans came, Mahmood served as a translator, making him a natural target for the flood of Saudi zealots appearing on the streets, often right under the noses of the Americans, who couldn't tell them apart from Iraqis. They were there to kill Americans, but killing those who worked for the Americans was a highly enjoyable bonus. After the bombing, Mahmood convinced a symapthetic American captain to help him obtain a refugee visa to the United States.
A year later, as he waited in a hospital among wounded former American soldiers for the harried Veterans Administration plastic surgeon to assess his burn-scarred face, he noticed a disturbingly familiar name on the TV screen. Something had happened at Saddam's Abu Graib prison. As he watched the story and saw the eerily familar pictures, fear gripped his heart -- these were the same images that the Feyadeen used to post when they particularly wanted to shame a victim. But now, the leering image in the foreground was a female American soldier.
He followed the story obsessively, tracking it through investigations, congressional debates, and reports of trials on CNN. He found a measure of hope -- at least the Feyadeen had not been punished when they committed these crimes. At least the Americans saw that it was wrong.
But nonetheless, he prayed day and night. He begged Allah to bestow His blessing upon the United States. Let her not become Saddam.
posted by Anonymous at 9:03 AM
1 Comments:
Very catchy begining! I was hooked.
Post a Comment
<< Home