Mishka Moral Monologues

It was September 1987, when I joined the Law School at the University of Baghdad. I was among the 10 women out of the 500 students who sat in the front row hoping to get their law degrees.

 The first class was in criminology. The professor entered the class, looked around and said;

“What are the women doing here? Go now and join the nursing school where you belong.You will never make it in law.”

I didn’t join the nursing school. I earned my degree in law, and I graduated in 1991 with the second highest GPA across the Law School.

Earlier this year, Iraq was kicked out of Kuwait during the Operation Desert Storm. Yet, contrary to the widespread belief at the time, the Storm didn’t topple the regime. It did, however, destroy electricity and water plants.

 I prepared for the final exams studying on a kerosene lamp, like the ones used before the invention of electricity. Preparing for the finals in the middle for the summer in our desert climate was challenging enough. Let alone to do it without a fan or light.

The regime oppressed the professors to come up with a legal justification for the war and the invasion. They channeled that oppression onto the students, who couldn’t do anything but to take it in.

The past few months were the most difficult in my life. I I have lived through a lot in my life including witnessing the atrocities of the civil war in Lebanon, where women and girls were raped, living under Saddam’s Regime where the Iraqi police arrested my nine-year-old friend, surviving a suicide bomb attack on my life in which four of my bodyguards were killed. So what happened during these few month?

As I was surfing the web looking for op-eds discussing the Iraqi paradoxical situation, I came across a headline featuring my best friend’s name.  I immediately recalled our last heated discussion.

My friend and mentor, Ammar Al-Shahbander, asked me to go back to Iraq and work with him on promoting freedom of expression and empowering women. I declined; I didn’t want to go back.

I felt that I already jeopardized my safety and that of my family and friends. Ammar was disappointed. He said, “If you don’t go back and help, and I don’t go back and help, who is going to build the country?”  “I just can’t,” I replied.

I felt I couldn’t do it again to my son. Both of us suffered a lot.  Just like many Iraqis, we have been shot at, survived bomb attacks, threats, separated from each other, and lived in fear. Even though I wanted to help, I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. My mentor concluded the conversation with deep disappointment.

I knew Nadia from work. Both of us are linguists, but we work in different departments. 

“Many times, Nadia, I once spent half an hour searching for my glasses, only to be told that I was wearing them,” I replied.

“But why are you asking?” I followed

“You see, today at work my fellow linguists analyzed a text focusing only on direct meaning,” Nadia said.

“What’s wrong with that?” I asked.

“They overlooked the hidden message while it is right in front of their eyes! How could they?” Nadia said with frustration. 

“Did you try to bring it to their attention, perhaps, they missed it?” I said.

“You see, they shouldn’t miss it, to begin with. Using verbal nouns in criminal statement should have been analyzed and examined,” Nadia said

“In what way?” I asked.

“Mishka, you know verbal nouns mean that the action isn’t limited to time, which different a verbal noun from a verb. The verb has a tense, past, present, or future. But a verbal noun is limited to time. It is continuous,” Nadia explained.

“You were examining a criminal content?” I asked.

“Yes, using verbal nouns means the action will keep accruing which poses a higher level of threat,” Nadia explained.

Yesterday, I read The Lottery; a short fiction written by Shirley Jackson. The story portrays a community gathering to play a game of lottery. Children run around collecting stones for a drawing to take place to see which woman would be stoned. No trial, no guilty verdict, just a sentence of death. In the story, men stride in as the shepherds and women reluctantly join as the sheep to the slaughter.

In the end, Tessie; a mother and wife, is stoned to death by her community. Even Dave, her son, is given small pebbles to throw at his own mother. While the story is set in an American village, the symbolism of women’s suffering is universal.

Jackson presents a patriarchal society, where men come first as they converse with each other, but they don’t include women in their discussions. Similarly, in peace processes, women are left out, even though they didn’t wage the war. However, the warlords, all men, are seated at the negotiation table.  

I am a big fan of Secretary Clinton and I do look at her as a role model. Nevertheless, as a linguist, I am disappointed in her last statement following the Wednesday night’s shooting at the historic Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church in Charleston, South Carolina.

Secretary Clinton stated that “we can’t hide from the truth of white privilege.”

Secretary Clinton is way stronger and bolder than just admitting the truth because there is "no other place to hide for it." The first official who called women's right as human rights can do more for us, then just admit the truth, becasue we have to.

When I started teaching at Baghdad University, I was the only female teacher among 45 teachers.

Newly appointed and not being assigned to a class. The chairperson approached me, saying “can you teach legalese?” I immediately said, “ Sure, I can.”

Once he walked away, I said to myself “ What did I do? Wasn't it the class that Laser tagged their teacher, who left after 15 minutes of class?” unheard of in the School of Law, the most traditional and conservative school at Baghdad University.

“I can do it. I took that class before as a student, what was wrong with it? ”  These are the words that were in my head while trying to prepare for my class.

I used to wait anxiously for the summer break to come, so as I could pack up my things and go my grandmother's house in Aley, (عالية) 10 miles uphill Beirut.

The Vila My Garndmother Owned

I enjoyed the trip tremendously; traveling from Baghdad Airport to Beirut Airport, walking through the duty-free shops, and sitting on the comfortable airplane seats. Before I know it, the hostess would bring me the lunch on a nice tray. Oftentimes, She would give me a coloring book too.

"Can you tell me why the U.S foreign policy seems puzzled when it comes to dealing with Iran?" Ferrinaz asked.

Ferrinaz, or Ferri as I call her, is a friend of mine who was born in Iran and came to the U.S with her parents. The family left Iran right after the revolution of 1979 that resulted in ousting the Shah. The family settled here in the U.S.

"What do you mean puzzled?" I asked.

"I feel the U.S foreign policy doesn’t know how to handle Iran. One day, the negotiations are delayed, then they are canceled or postponed. Then, the negotiations veer from discussing the nuclear power to be all about relaxing the sanctions." Ferri elaborated.

"Aren't the nuclear negotiations linked to the sanctions? What's wrong with talking about it all?" I asked.

A traditional gift from Ferri

"You see, Mishka, it isn't about what we talk about. It is all about how we talk about it." Ferri explained.

"What do you mean? What's wrong with how we talk?" I asked
"The notion of justice; Iran is invested in the notion of justice. Have you heard the latest statement from the Supreme Leader Khamenei? He said, 'Iran will continue to support the oppressed nations because it is just and fair. If you want something out the Iranians, you have to talk about why it is just and fair, not about why it is needed and how the international law enforces it." Ferri explained.    

The Iranian President Ahmadinejad is seeking to overthrow one of the founding fathers of the Islamic Republic of Iran: Ayatollah Rafsanjani or the Shark. He earned this reputation because he successfully defeated all those who opposed him.

Although the bombardment was far away from our house, we could still hear and feel the impact. Sometimes, it felt like the entire house was lifted and then thrown on the ground. My sister and I were the calmest people within our family, while my mother kept shaking and vomiting, my father looked pale.

Environmental scholars agree that environmental scarcity, i.e. the decline in the availability of the environmental resources, brings ethnic division to a community.  However, in the Kunar and Nuristan Provinces, bordering Pakistan on the east, environmental scarcity is bringing communities together to fight the U.S. soldiers.

A security situation in Kunar and Nuristan, in which insurgency groups reign, is active with the timber smuggling fueling the growth. 

I think it is time to take you back to the days when I taught at the Baghdad University School of Law; the school I have studied art since 1987 where I earned my B.A., M.A and PhD. However, I started teaching at the Baghdad University School of Law in 2001. I taught International Law, and Constitutional Law. I offered my courses in Arabic and English.