It is quite common to be sitting with a client discussing the latest issues in Iraq, or be having dinner with a friend in the evening, when a power cut occurs. Everyone pauses their activities for a few minutes till power resumes, and they carry on going about their business as normal. Like someone has paused a movie for a few minutes, or seconds sometimes. This happens several times a day.
I noticed that I yawn much more often and my hair needs more regular washing. My chocolate Ugg boots have now become yellowy cream. It never stopped raining since I arrived and the days get much colder at night. Mud puddles became my worst enemy as the city is going under wide construction and development and workmen are everywhere. The only problem is that in Iraq, workmen take eternity to finish a job.
I moved into a block of apartments in a secluded village just outside of Sulaimaniya. Thankfully, Sulaimaniya isn’t a large city so I am able to reach Salem Street in just under half an hour, if a taxi passes by that is. Leaving me stranded on top of the hill for the dust to settle right behind my contact lenses. Taxi drivers often think I am crying.
I will be in Baghdad soon to interview people regarding the magazine cover story as well as a few other stories. I will once again, after many years, visit places in Baghdad I had not been to for almost two decades. Once Zainab the quiet struggling school girl carrying her books to school while adjusting her glasses, now Zainab the editor, the writer, with her dictaphone, pen and notebook, and of course a laptop bag that doesn’t fit my laptop in it properly which often makes me look clumsy.
So here I am, grumbling about mud, dust, rain and Uggs. Having just been scared the devil out of as all lights in my apartment went out whilst in the shower. To crawl my way out and hope someone would call me so my mobile would light the way. Nothing like a power cut during a shower in a secluded home in the mountains of Iraq.
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