It happened before many times but this time it stuck in my memory so vividly due to the close call of possibility of it being the last time our father managing to protect us from witnessing public execution.
For a lack of a better word, it was the norm! In any given classroom at any age, we were pulled out of our classroom by armed guards to assemble outside school ground – not very far walking distance, to witness public execution of youth refusing to join the military, deserters, accused of being spies or simply an enemy of the Baa’th Party….
You can be an enemy of the Baa’th party by simply criticizing the government or God forbid, the leader Saddam Hussein.
My father from as early as I remember worked up himself to exhaustion and to point of loosing his breath just to protect us from the mandatory witnessing and cheering on with the crowed public execution forced on school children. Few times I remember other friends joining us in escaping such events, as scary as it sounds, my dad did not like or approved of the government or its ruling regime nor Saddam Hussein himself.
My Dad disobeyed many rules strictly enforced by the regime and for reason I can not yet grasp, got away with it using his very best words. It's still beyond me how he did it but one day I hope to know.
Strict rules for instant were that of each… And I mean it each house in the entire country of Iraq was to display a framed portrait of the leader. Not a poster, not newspaper photo (which by the way dominated each and every front page of any/all Iraqi daily newspapers) and never ever a photo taken by private camera… We were never allowed to take photos of him or his guards or his car or even his castles or his entourage.
The portrait to be displayed in the house is to be of the only approved/allowed portraits by the authority.
Until the spring or summer 1991 my dad never allowed a single portrait of Saddam in the house..And that was for just mere minutes before the guards came inside.
There were random neighborhood curfew enforced and both ends of the streets are shut down and surrounded by military personnel and Baa’th men and occasionally women standing by as teams searched houses for anything from youth not serving in military to possible anti-government propaganda and inspecting homes for having portrait of Saddam on wall and properly framed.
Sometimes we heard screams of mothers calling out to the men to have mercy… But after loud men yelling and shouting we hear bullets shot.
Mothers screaming louder and wailing… If son discovered have escaped military or old enough but not serving or they resisted the house search This happened.
No police, no court system no investigation… They deal with things right there and then.
While such events took place, we sat in our house literally frozen with fear because no spectators allowed out while the curfew was imposed on a neighborhood. I remember the military helicopter hovering very low over our homes adding to our little heart shaking.
My dad would be extremely diplomatic and polite speaking to the what he called ‘Saddam’s thugs’ – - never called them that off course in front of them, when they asked about portrait of the leader he always got away with telling them, excuses like, the frame was getting replaced at the frame shop, or there is a newer one he like do he removed it to replace with new or my favorite of all excuses he gave ours away to a new family that didn’t have one because he’s getting a much bigger framed portrait of the great leader.
He’d offer them cold water and warm tea and even offers first aide to some personnel who had a small cut or wound or sun stroke symptoms . It was sometimes fascinating to see them cheered on as they leave the house..
It wasn’t always cool men,some of them were very mean and scary how they threaten our dad but he always maintained his very calm collective attitude and humble
……..
He always spoke to us about the plan of avoiding the witnessing of public execution by two ways. If he gets the wind of the rumor of such event is set to take place,he would keep us home and tell school a family event needed the kids to be home,or if he finds out while we’re in school,he would rush to school pulling us out due to a mother ill or grandmother dying or uncle returning from a trip…many excuses that most of the time worked..
The days where he couldn’t save us I remember how we were like a herd of sheep being guided..
I remember crying with my friends who also did not want to go…We were scared so we held each others hand tight and stayed very close to one another.
When we arrived at the designated spot,we were shouted at to stay put and be quiet and listen..
I remember we were surrounded by tall tall thin men with mustaches and Green camouflage uniform and carrying high assault rifles in arm and pistol on their belts.
There was a lot of shouting..I kept hiding behind the tall students in my group . few of us was still whimpering and crying but we’re shouted at to be quiet. As the big man with large stomach and few golden stars on his shoulders and golden stripes on his arm,spoke in a thundering loud voice… (this is to be a lesson to anyone who think of being a traitor and an enemy of the Baa’th party and the great leader Saddam Hussein, those mean men will be excited to serve as a reminder to all if you break one Baa’th rule,you broke them all. You’ll get what you deserve)
We were ordered to shout praises to Saddam and our party and vow to give our blood as sacrifice to him. As the few dirty men dragged out of the military truck with hands tied and black cloth bag over their head.
I cried and was terrified…As I hear the row of army men started to prepare their bullets in their guns…it was loud. We could hear from the distance the cries of the men in black over there heads…
The army men yelled really loud…me and few of my friends No longer able to stand we crouched down looking at each other and crying bug with our mouths closed.
I was much more terrified of my dad finding out am out of school than of those horror moments of men about to be killed
It was horrible horrible shooting spree that continued what it felt like an eternity. We were down on the ground screaming and crying as our cries mixed with the riffle firing squad and the agonizing last shouts of young men dying.
For a lack of a better word, it was the norm! In any given classroom at any age, we were pulled out of our classroom by armed guards to assemble outside school ground – not very far walking distance, to witness public execution of youth refusing to join the military, deserters, accused of being spies or simply an enemy of the Baa’th Party….
You can be an enemy of the Baa’th party by simply criticizing the government or God forbid, the leader Saddam Hussein.
My father from as early as I remember worked up himself to exhaustion and to point of loosing his breath just to protect us from the mandatory witnessing and cheering on with the crowed public execution forced on school children. Few times I remember other friends joining us in escaping such events, as scary as it sounds, my dad did not like or approved of the government or its ruling regime nor Saddam Hussein himself.
My Dad disobeyed many rules strictly enforced by the regime and for reason I can not yet grasp, got away with it using his very best words. It's still beyond me how he did it but one day I hope to know.
Strict rules for instant were that of each… And I mean it each house in the entire country of Iraq was to display a framed portrait of the leader. Not a poster, not newspaper photo (which by the way dominated each and every front page of any/all Iraqi daily newspapers) and never ever a photo taken by private camera… We were never allowed to take photos of him or his guards or his car or even his castles or his entourage.
The portrait to be displayed in the house is to be of the only approved/allowed portraits by the authority.
Until the spring or summer 1991 my dad never allowed a single portrait of Saddam in the house..And that was for just mere minutes before the guards came inside.
There were random neighborhood curfew enforced and both ends of the streets are shut down and surrounded by military personnel and Baa’th men and occasionally women standing by as teams searched houses for anything from youth not serving in military to possible anti-government propaganda and inspecting homes for having portrait of Saddam on wall and properly framed.
Sometimes we heard screams of mothers calling out to the men to have mercy… But after loud men yelling and shouting we hear bullets shot.
Mothers screaming louder and wailing… If son discovered have escaped military or old enough but not serving or they resisted the house search This happened.
No police, no court system no investigation… They deal with things right there and then.
While such events took place, we sat in our house literally frozen with fear because no spectators allowed out while the curfew was imposed on a neighborhood. I remember the military helicopter hovering very low over our homes adding to our little heart shaking.
My dad would be extremely diplomatic and polite speaking to the what he called ‘Saddam’s thugs’ – - never called them that off course in front of them, when they asked about portrait of the leader he always got away with telling them, excuses like, the frame was getting replaced at the frame shop, or there is a newer one he like do he removed it to replace with new or my favorite of all excuses he gave ours away to a new family that didn’t have one because he’s getting a much bigger framed portrait of the great leader.
He’d offer them cold water and warm tea and even offers first aide to some personnel who had a small cut or wound or sun stroke symptoms . It was sometimes fascinating to see them cheered on as they leave the house..
It wasn’t always cool men,some of them were very mean and scary how they threaten our dad but he always maintained his very calm collective attitude and humble
……..
He always spoke to us about the plan of avoiding the witnessing of public execution by two ways. If he gets the wind of the rumor of such event is set to take place,he would keep us home and tell school a family event needed the kids to be home,or if he finds out while we’re in school,he would rush to school pulling us out due to a mother ill or grandmother dying or uncle returning from a trip…many excuses that most of the time worked..
The days where he couldn’t save us I remember how we were like a herd of sheep being guided..
I remember crying with my friends who also did not want to go…We were scared so we held each others hand tight and stayed very close to one another.
When we arrived at the designated spot,we were shouted at to stay put and be quiet and listen..
I remember we were surrounded by tall tall thin men with mustaches and Green camouflage uniform and carrying high assault rifles in arm and pistol on their belts.
There was a lot of shouting..I kept hiding behind the tall students in my group . few of us was still whimpering and crying but we’re shouted at to be quiet. As the big man with large stomach and few golden stars on his shoulders and golden stripes on his arm,spoke in a thundering loud voice… (this is to be a lesson to anyone who think of being a traitor and an enemy of the Baa’th party and the great leader Saddam Hussein, those mean men will be excited to serve as a reminder to all if you break one Baa’th rule,you broke them all. You’ll get what you deserve)
We were ordered to shout praises to Saddam and our party and vow to give our blood as sacrifice to him. As the few dirty men dragged out of the military truck with hands tied and black cloth bag over their head.
I cried and was terrified…As I hear the row of army men started to prepare their bullets in their guns…it was loud. We could hear from the distance the cries of the men in black over there heads…
The army men yelled really loud…me and few of my friends No longer able to stand we crouched down looking at each other and crying bug with our mouths closed.
I was much more terrified of my dad finding out am out of school than of those horror moments of men about to be killed
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