Rejoice and Grief

By the time Iraqis were rejoicing the victorious winning of the Asian Cup, Sameer’s mother, my cousin, was in her worst shapes. She sat grieving at the Baghdad Morgue waiting for the curfew to be lifted to take her teenage son to burial.

A 17-year-old teenager, Sameer died doing a noble thing, helping his wounded neighbors and friends to ambulances after a massive car bomb ripped off most of the buildings surrounding his house in Karrada, wounding and killing most of his neighbors and friends, and leaving a three-story apartment building on fire.

My father received the news after one in the morning. Abbas, my other cousin and the uncle of the slain Sameer, sobbed on the phone, telling my father how it all happened.

It was a normal Thursday afternoon in Karrada, a neighborhood in Baghdad where hundreds of displaced people found a shelter. Karrada is also known of being a shopping attraction to many Baghdadis. Men’s and women’s wear, jewelry shops, and restaurants are among the many other grocery stores. Sameer and his friends were standing in front of their house drinking some soda to ease the 120 F heat roaming the electricity-absent city. Not too far from them, a car bomb rushed to the market area across the street from his house, exploded and cut people into pieces. Instead of running away from the fire and the second possible attack, Sameer rushed to the fire hurricane. Carrying people with his own skinny arms, his father said he didn’t feel their weight. As strong as superman, his utmost effort was to save as much people as he could. While doing so, his cell phone rang. It was from his terrified father who was in another neighborhood. He was relieved to hear his son’s voice, but alas how short that was. He begged him to leave the area, but Sameer refused. “I can’t. There are people dying in front of me. I have to take them to the hospital or the ambulance,” he said while crying.

Then, a roar. Gunshot and sirens coming from the Iraqi troops accompanied by the Americans. People grew more scared expecting another car bomb would target both American and Iraqi troops and the civilians who were helping evacuate the 130 wounded. As they arrived, both armies were doing nothing except cordoning the area. Angry relatives of the dead and the wounded started screaming at the troops asking them to leave, accusing them for being the indirect reason that led the country to this state of chaos and mayhem. The US troops left without arguing with the angry mob, but Iraqi troops descended from their vehicles and started fighting with those who lost their relatives. Then, one Iraqi soldier opened fire on the mob killing whoever was standing in front of him. Sameer was one of them. A bullet came right in the center of his heart. The wounded child whom Sameer was carrying fell from his arms, and Sameer fell dead over him.

In the middle of the chaos and the pools of blood and the plumes of smoke, Sameer was carried by another neighbor not to the hospital, but to the morgue instead. On his way there, he called my cousin and her husband telling them how a small bullet took their son’s life. Grief took his way to their small house.

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Sameer was a very friendly young man. His parents struggled painfully to make him continue studying at school. Like many other families who suffered during the 12-year embargo, his family was categorized as the worst. His father, a government employee received a $1.5 per month salary, which was not enough to buy eggs. His mother quit her job and became a tailor to earn more money to help her husband afford living. Life was harder than everyone expected. Money wasn’t enough at all. They had to sell their house and everything in it, except the carpet where the five family members slept on. For years, they almost had nothing decent to eat. Even the food ration which was agreed between Saddam and the United Nations, was not enough for a big family like theirs. Sameer and his three brothers had to quit school. They worked for years as clerks, waiters and many other jobs where they were able to restore what the family sold. They also saved some money to school. Returning back to school was a very happy event in the family. The boys graduated from colleges, except Sameer who was only 17 before he died. It was only one year a head of him to enter college.

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As I was watching the soccer match live on the internet, I couldn't but think of Sameer and his grieving mother. He was a huge fan of soccer. I thought of him when our team won, and never forgot how his body was still at the morgue when the referee announced the end of the game.

Goodbye Sameer. We’ll miss you a lot. We’ll miss your smiling face when always won backgammon. We’ll always remember your earlier struggle and your heroism that will pave the road of martyrdom and greatness of all Iraqis who sacrificed themselves to help our country.

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