Beautiful is this place, and beautiful are your faces looking at us. What do you expect from the papers we are reading? I wish I could set them aside and forget about them, but that is impossible, as humans are treasure troves of memories from which they draw extensively. Without the past, I would not be here before you, my ladies and gentlemen.
Our horrifying world may not be compatible with your velvety world, and perhaps your reasons for listening to us may differ. But you will hear nothing but accumulated suffering in my memory and the memory of many burdened with the wound of Iraq and its pain. It is wonderful to believe in freedom and humanity, our cherished beliefs. Some of you here were once young, and some remain so. Some refuse to be anything but young. In any case, what I meant to do was to remind you of that stage of life and how one is particularly driven, especially when one believes in principles and values that guide their life. This was my case when I finished my university studies. My faith in freedom and humanity surpassed everything. I joined the university not to become a physical education teacher, but instead, I found myself a soldier in the Special Forces. When I was assigned for the first time to one of the units to serve in, the officer surprised me by saying, You have an athletic body and a strong build. Go and take the keys to the prison from the corporal, as he will be enjoying his regular leave today.
” Good heavens, a prison, and why me?!
I met the jailer, who seemed to be an excellent guard, devoid of any trace of humanity. He informed me, I have sealed off the ventilation vent with cement. These traitors who betrayed the party and the revolution and did not join the military service deserve punishment. I was eager to receive the keys, with the firm belief that the prisoners would suffocate without air in this scorching summer.
Indeed, no sooner had the jailer turned his back on me than I heard the prisoners shouting for help, as one of them had fainted due to suffocation. I opened the door and asked everyone to leave, the place was engulfed by a foul stench. We began to administer first aid to the victim until he regained consciousness. I asked the prisoners to help me remove the cement that had sealed the opening. As soon as we finished this emergency, everyone bombarded me with hundreds of questions; they were not used to a guard like me! I began to take them out daily into the sunlight, as the area was mountainous, I would hear their strange and sometimes comically tragic stories. One of them, a handsome young man in his twenties, told me that he had spent 7 years evading the military police without being caught. Then, one evening, he drank a lot of alcohol to forget his miserable situation, and by chance, he passed by a police station. The alcohol had clouded his mind completely, all he could do was ask the policeman standing at the door to take him to the officer and ask him, “Why is the state chasing me… What have I done??” The policeman was overjoyed and told him, “We are all waiting for you.” This young man burst out laughing as he recounted the story, but suddenly burst into tears because he knew that the punishment for deserting the army was execution. A week passed, and I was no longer a guard but had become a friend to everyone. I placed the gun on the prison wall while we sat away from it. I began to take the prisoners to the camp’s telephone exchange so they could contact their families. I must confess that many tears were shed at that time, I felt the yearning for freedom and the reunification with family gnawing at their souls when they spoke to their children and wives. Some of them told me, “You are just a poor guard. We could easily escape from your clutches, but we won’t do so that you won’t end up in this wretched prison.”
One time, the unit commander summoned me, smiling and joking, and told me, “I see that you will become a guest in our prison. You walk in front of the prisoners and hang your gun on your back upside down!! Aren’t you afraid that one of them might pick up a big rock and hit you from behind and escape? Go to the unit security officer. He wants to talk to you.”
At that moment, I felt that many bad things were about to happen… I entered the security officer’s room, he mockingly said, “You are the one who allowed the prisoners to use the unit’s phone?” I said, “Yes, sir.” “Go and bring them so that they can make another call!!”
I was surprised by his words, just like the prisoners were. How could the security officer be so kind!! We all went to the calling room, where the officer was waiting for us. He then said, “Who will make the call first?” One of the prisoners raised his hand, so the officer made him sit on the chair and handcuffed his hands behind his back and his legs as well. Then he placed a wire connected to the telephone in the prisoner’s nostril, with the phone connected from the other end to a power source. He asked the prisoner to recite the number he had called so that he could turn the phone dial, so as soon as he started dialing the first number, the prisoner’s body shook. It was something that exploded pain, even in the rocks… After that, I carried many of them, who had fainted, back to the prison, with severe reprimands from the officer as he said, “This is how we deal with the traitors.”
It was only a few days later when the commander summoned me again, but this time received me differently. He informally mentioned a decision from the Ministry of Defense that required university graduates to join the military academy. “You will become an officer after six months, Mr. Chocolat.” And Chocolat is a term we use for the weak-hearted in Iraq. My only response was, “I can’t do it, sir.”
“What is lacking in you? Are you male or female? Or do you refuse to obey military orders?!”
I kept repeating, “I can’t do it,” until he lost his temper and began to curse and insult, ordering the guards to throw me in prison until I was referred to a military court. Within minutes, I found myself discarded like garbage in that prison… but I was surrounded by kind and sympathetic faces.“Calm down, my colleague. We will allocate a place for you near the vent that you opened for us, where you can breathe in the fresh air,” they said. And so, destiny played its part in turning the guard into a prisoner.
Several months passed in that prison. I would often look out from that opening, gazing into the distance with bewildered eyes, pondering the question… When will the sun of freedom shine upon my country..?
