i s h t a r r i a........

Fury’s judgement of the guy wasn’t in any way erroneous or even impulsive. The fact that he was impetuous in a perilously irresponsible manner was indubitably obvious. It wasn’t the accident that had me drowned in a sea of concerns and apprehensions, but his audacious behaviour, which was incongruent with the rules and regulations prescribed by this land of prohibitions. The accident would have been regarded as a ludicrous mishap in the normal goings-on of the office, and would have shaded imperceptibly into the background, had it happened with someone else, like Jack for instance, or Larry, or even Gerhard. It would’ve ended with smiles and apologies from both sides, and would have been over and done with in no time. But his besieging eyes left no room for any doubt that the incident was premeditated. He had kept tabs on me all the time, had followed me stealthily, exploiting the noisy background to ensure I didn’t hear his footsteps, and he stood so close behind me as to preclude th...

The nature of my memoirs and my earnest desire to avoid potential complications dictate that I retain my anonymity. This therefore disallows linkage to any other site, which could possibly lead technically to the unveiling of my personal identity. Although I would have wished to reciprocate the courtesy extended to me by some of the sites that have already linked to mine, I apologetically find myself powerless to do so, for the reasons mentioned above. However, I would like to thank profoundly the following sites: Ihath, Don’t shoot!.... I have another story to tell you : Elen was not only the first to include Ishtarria in her “link for thought” for nearly two months, she promoted it as well in Iraq blog count site . My sweet friend from come-getsome , for linking to Ishtarria and for all those sweet emails; Abdullah, you’ve always been a tremendous source of aid and encouragement. I wouldn’t by any chance forget Zeyad , the pride and joy of the Iraqi blogspheres for listing Ishta...

About ten minutes later, Jack gestured to Fury, indicating that he wanted to talk to me. ‘Hey, you’re wanted’, she imparted. When I turned, the other two men had already started walking towards Tom’s office, where they eventually settled down to talk. They were much closer to us now, separated by only a glass wall and a distance of barely three meters. Jack assigned me a few more tasks, which were to be completed during his absence from the office in the next two hours. While I talked to Jack, I noticed through a few fleeting glimpses, how diligently Fury was surveying the offices, angling for any ‘weird’ stuff that could satisfy her inquisitiveness. I thwarted her attempt, denying her any such luck, but the totally oblivious party on the other side of the glass wall was patently cementing her suspicions, further stimulating the Sherlock Holmes in her. When I returned to her office, she could barely smother her excitement at obtaining what she deemed to be irrefutable evidence in sup...

Three weeks of smooth sailing had elapsed since I had first started work, during which my awareness of names, positions and sequence of tasks was rapidly heightening. So were my efficiency and my independent execution of responsibilities such as to win more of Jack’s confidence and reliance. Our friendship, his and mine, had developed to the point where we exchanged information of a more personal nature. I came to know that he was married, with two daughters. His wife had accompanied him to Iraq, but at the time she was back home on a visit. Despite proclaiming a liking for Baghdad having already lived a year there, he was clearly pining for his life in the States and for his little ones. Jack was becoming my trusted advisor on the protocols involved in liaising with the multinational community that I was ringed by, especially with my growing number of admirers. As far as he was concerned, it was my artlessness that he mainly held dear, sparing no advice or guidance whatsoever. And I ...

Mr. Richardson was a frequenter of our office. It wasn’t unusual to see him pop in four or five times a day to coordinate various administrative and technical processes, invariably ushering in an atmosphere of jovial camaraderie, which was inevitably missed when he was absent from work. Al was about sixty, thickly moustached, with hair that had entirely succumbed to the refractory will of time. He was, incontestably, the most audacious among the advisors of the foreign section. He would never refrain from boldly baring his innermost feelings and thoughts. Given his age, however, he was never taken earnestly. I quite liked the guy, as did all the other girls. Jack and Al were both Americans; Larry was British. Jack and Larry were coevals in their mid-forties. Jack was tall, with a well-shaped muscular body, fair-haired, and had blue eyes. Larry was brown-eyed with a crown of greying hair, shorter than Jack and slimmer too. My attention wandered around. Jack’s desk was placed to my left...

It was around quarter to eight when Bann pulled up, and in a few moments we were, all five of us, marching once more across the same old car park, heading for the same building that we had visited well nigh a month before. School holidays had rendered early wake-ups a heavy task; we were all still yawning. Drowsiness seemed to farewell us, though, the moment we stood in front of the same lady at the front desk, who greeted us with a meaningful smile, ‘ Mabbrook , congratulations’. Our names were already placed at the reception. We were escorted, after a short wait, to the fifth floor along with three other females, for a meeting with the head of the department and the authority to whom we’d be directly reporting, Mr. Riyadh , a man who spoke good English. He was a graduate of one of the American universities , as we realized later; tall and rather full, in his late forties, with a square reddish face and silvery straight hair. Following a brief but cordial welcoming speech, Mr. Riyadh...

Mum mistily understood what had happened . Pale and shivering, she sat for a few moments with both hands resting on her thighs. She managed to pull herself together. She inhaled a deep breath and hugged me close, stroking my head. ‘Silly you, you scared the hell out of me. So what if they came here? This is how they do it. Stop worrying, everything will be fine’. ‘No mum, it won’t be fine’, I said, sobbing with tears flowing down my cheeks and neck, and still trembling like the leaves of an aspen in a breeze. ‘They usually investigate from far, not come into people’s houses. Something is not right here; I’ll call Dad’, I said, and made a dash for the phone. Mum hurriedly followed. ‘DON’T’, she ordered, ‘the phone might be tapped now that they are investigating’. My blood chilled, and I stood thunderstruck. ‘ Yim-kken , yim-kken , perhaps, perhaps’. she instantly corrected, reassuring me, upon realizing the shock she had induced. She stepped to the phone, ‘I’ll talk to him. I know how ...