Post by kaima on Dec 7, 2009 16:33:10 GMT -7
December 6, 2009, 6:15 pm
Home Fires: Interview With an Iraqi Translator
By BRIAN TURNER
LONDON — We’re sitting outside a coffee shop about an hour’s drive south of the city. It’s overcast, mid-afternoon, and I’m not able to keep up with the conversation completely. I’ve read William Faulkner’s “The Sound and the Fury” and a collection of shorter works (”Three Famous Short Novels: Spotted Horses; Old Man; The Bear”), but I haven’t read “Absalom, Absalom!” or “Go Down, Moses” or “Light in August.” Basically, I’m in way over my head.
I’ve got a nifty Olympus sound recorder set up on a tripod. But let’s face it: I’m not a journalist. Boil it all down and I’m a guy from Fresno who finds himself sitting at a café in England talking with someone who knows a helluva lot more about William Faulkner and the advent of stream-of-consciousness literature than I do.
Let me introduce you to Waleed Al-Bazoon. Waleed, who is 37, is originally from Basra, Iraq. He worked as an interpreter first with a Scottish regiment and then with an English regiment. He’s here in England, if only temporarily, with his wife and four children — Mohammad, 9; Ayat, 7; Hawra, 5; and Fatima, who is 18 months old. He was given a grant for a 10-month residency in England, but the grant was created for him alone and simply isn’t enough to support the six members of his family. The grant period will soon expire.
We met by chance. I found the opportunity to talk with Waleed, a native of the country I served in, too fortuitous to resist. The idea of an Iraqi knowledgeable and passionate about American literature might seem strange to some: Waleed was definitely not your average citizen, true. For me, it was a reminder of the people we cross paths with in this life and often know little about. It also reminded me that even as I travel continents away from either my home in California or my service in the war in Iraq, my experience as a soldier follows me. In this case, I was fortunate to get a glimpse of the Iraq I served in through Waleed’s eyes. Here are a few excerpts from our conversation.
Since we shared an interest in writing and literature. We began on the topic of his studies.
WALEED: I got my M.A. at Basra University, where I studied English-language literature, specializing in the novel. I wrote my thesis on selected novels of William Faulkner — “Sound and the Fury,” “Light in August,” “Absalom, Absalom!” and “Go Down, Moses.” It’s very interesting to study — I like Faulkner. After I finished my M.A., I joined a private college to teach English literature, poetry, drama, the novel, the short story, 19th-century poetry, 16th-century poetry. Modern poetry, too. T.S. Eliot, Dylan Thomas. I taught third-year students about the work of Emily Bronte, Charlotte Bronte, Thomas Hardy.
TURNER: What is it you like about Faulkner?
WALEED: He’s not easy to read. But what I like about him is his style. It is very interesting. For some it is very difficult to understand because it’s as if there is no plot — but there is a plot. It’s implied, because time is cut; it is broken. So in the novels we have time overlapping; there is no fixed time in the novels as a whole, specifically in “The Sound and the Fury.” So, the reader has to make some sense of connection between the periods of time. The characters. The style. Stream of consciousness, interior monologues, and monologues are all used well. So now I’m starting to write my first novel.
TURNER: You are..?
WALEED: Yeah. I’m using stream of consciousness, but not imitatively — because I have read Virginia Woolf, some stream of consciousness writers and short stories. I like it.
TURNER: Are you writing your novel in Arabic or in English?
WALEED: In English.
Soon our conversation turns to the war, specifically the period after coalition forces invaded Iraq.
WALEED: The occupation. Yes … Truthfully, I can tell you that most Iraqis wanted the toppling of Saddam. The civilians in general didn’t resist the occupying forces. We welcomed you because you came to take Saddam away. This is why I worked with you. So I joined the forces. When the forces came into Basra, which is in the south of Iraq, I was walking with one of my friends and we were chatting about the occupation. You know — there was looting and stealing from the stores, the public establishments …
TURNER: The museums..?
WALEED: Museums, yes. but also the schools, the universities …
TURNER: What were they stealing?
WALEED: Everything was stolen. Even chairs. Desks. Computers. So, my friend and I, as educated people, we are looking at these people wondering, Are they crazy? None of this stuff belonged to Saddam but they felt that for more than 35 years it was in his hands, you know what I mean? Everything belongs to the government, but it should belong to the country — and it does not. It is in the hands of the government. And Saddam controlled everything. You know what I mean? Every establishment, school, university. This is why they stole — as an act of revenge, against a power they couldn’t defeat in the past. They felt that when they stole they were killing Saddam.
We continue to discuss the looting, the burning and destruction of buildings. At this point, I’m thinking I should take a photograph of Waleed so people can see what he looks like, but I decide not to. I don’t want to make Waleed feel uncomfortable and I don’t know if, in the future, that identification might place his life in danger. When I was writing the acknowledgment’s page in my first book, I had the same thought in mind — I only thanked the interpreters I worked with by their first names, some only by their nicknames. I did this because I’d heard through the grapevine that 12 of the translators who worked with my unit had been murdered — their heads were cut off, I was told — after we left Iraq.
TURNER: How did you learn about threats to your life — I mean, did they come as letters under your door, or..?
WALEED: My neighbors did see me with the British when the patrol dropped me off [close to his home], which is very, very dangerous, and people began talking about me — as a person, as a traitor. And my brothers told me and my father, “You have to stop. It’s becoming very threatening to you and your family.” So many times there were messages coming to my mobile.
TURNER: Like sms, or phone messages…?
WALEED: Sms — not vocal.
TURNER: Text messages?
WALEED: Yeah, text messages. Yeah… “Your day will come,” which means: “Your death day will be soon.”
TURNER: How do you say that in Arabic?
WALEED: “Yomuck parid.” [my phonetic spelling]
TURNER: It’s chilling.
WALEED: So I rented another house in another area. And I began moving from one place to another, to secure my life and my family’s life.
TURNER: So the threats continued…
WALEED: The threat was everywhere in Iraq for those who worked with the occupying forces. Some of my friends who worked with me in the British camp were assassinated. One — his name was Fahad. An interpreter. Frankie, as the soldiers used to call him. And Basam, who was also an interpreter. And also my cousin, Ayad, a worker and cleaner who left two sons and a wife. These interpreters and workers were nearest to me; they were in my camp and they were assassinated when returning home from work with the British forces.
We talk for roughly 20 minutes about how, after one year working as an interpreter, Waleed returned to teaching in Iraq. He spent three years trying to get to Cambridge as a visiting scholar; at last, he was accepted in 2007 into a one-month program. With help, Waleed was granted a 10-month residency to study in England. He brought his family, too — though they are not sure how they will survive, having sold all of their possessions in order to flee the country they no longer feel safe in. He’s hoping to be granted asylum. The money he’s been allotted for the current period doesn’t appear to be enough to last the entire period of his stay in Britain, in fact. He never says this during our conversation, but I know that he’s hoping someone will hear this story and help him to live in a place where it’s safe for him to study Faulkner and to write his own novels
In a subsequent e-mail, he says he needs asylum status for himself and his family to be secure and safe; and another new grant to complete his Ph.D in English Literature We talk about the novel he’s working on — he’s halfway into it now, but I don’t want to divulge that part of our discussion. To be honest, he’s got a great idea and I simply don’t want anyone to steal it and write it for themselves. I can easily visualize it as a film.
TURNER: Is there something you’d like to say to the average American?
WALEED: As an Iraqi, we wanted the toppling of Saddam. And this was our dream as Iraqis. But once they did, they declared the occupation, right? [He later mentions that when he says “they” he doesn’t mean "the American people" but, rather the American administration of the time.]
TURNER: Well, it was December when they caught him, right?
At this point, I must mention that I remember when Saddam was captured very vividly. I was at a small fire base near Balad, just north of Baghdad. I remember watching colorful streams of celebratory tracer-fire from AK-47s arcing into the night sky over orchards and farmland. And I also remember being shelled by a mortar crew the next day, as if the mortar crew bracketing our fire base was methodically keeping to its schedule, regardless of political events taking place.
WALEED: Before entering Iraq they said “We’ll spread democracy; we’ll take Saddam,” but after entering Iraq, Bush told people that it was not the opening of a new era. It was occupation. And this is what disappointed us, in fact. Yeah. We wanted you to come, but the price was occupation.
TURNER: So, it wasn’t an Iraqi in charge, this is why..?
WALEED: It was a disappointment, a frustration for us as Iraqis. And our feelings changed, from loving…
TURNER: But, how would it have worked if other countries had come in, toppled Saddam Hussein and then just left?
WALEED: It would have been excellent.
TURNER: Yeah? But who would be in charge? Wouldn’t there be a power struggle?
WALEED: Yeah. There would be a power struggle, but I think just not to be occupying…
TURNER: I’m not…I’m just curious…
WALEED: I know what you mean … Stay there for a time. Manage the government, the new government, the new democracy if your aim is that, and then leave.
We end up by discussing the soldiers who served in Iraq.
WALEED: What astonishes me, really — when I watch TV here in Britain. This is truth and fact. Young people. They are courageous. Maybe 20, 24, 26, 27. Young soldiers. British soldiers. In Afghanistan. They are wealthy, strong, well-built. And they come back without hands, without legs. There are TV series about those who have experienced bombings. Last week, I saw a show about a soldier who lost his eyes and one of his legs. Another soldier, both legs. And he’s still alive. And, if I were in Iraq, I would say, “They deserve it.” You know what I mean? Here — I nearly cried for them, me and my family. He was young and he was very strong and was seeing life differently than we do. He wanted to do something for people — good things for them, but all of a sudden there’s a bomb under his feet and he’s nearly killed. I nearly cried, me and my wife. … We are humans. We feel sorry for humans. A young man losing his organs — it is very frustrating and painful. And this is my real feeling towards the soldiers who participated and lost their way.
TURNER: And this is what’s difficult — it will take so many years…
WALEED: Yes. For healing.
Home Fires: Interview With an Iraqi Translator
By BRIAN TURNER
LONDON — We’re sitting outside a coffee shop about an hour’s drive south of the city. It’s overcast, mid-afternoon, and I’m not able to keep up with the conversation completely. I’ve read William Faulkner’s “The Sound and the Fury” and a collection of shorter works (”Three Famous Short Novels: Spotted Horses; Old Man; The Bear”), but I haven’t read “Absalom, Absalom!” or “Go Down, Moses” or “Light in August.” Basically, I’m in way over my head.
I’ve got a nifty Olympus sound recorder set up on a tripod. But let’s face it: I’m not a journalist. Boil it all down and I’m a guy from Fresno who finds himself sitting at a café in England talking with someone who knows a helluva lot more about William Faulkner and the advent of stream-of-consciousness literature than I do.
Let me introduce you to Waleed Al-Bazoon. Waleed, who is 37, is originally from Basra, Iraq. He worked as an interpreter first with a Scottish regiment and then with an English regiment. He’s here in England, if only temporarily, with his wife and four children — Mohammad, 9; Ayat, 7; Hawra, 5; and Fatima, who is 18 months old. He was given a grant for a 10-month residency in England, but the grant was created for him alone and simply isn’t enough to support the six members of his family. The grant period will soon expire.
We met by chance. I found the opportunity to talk with Waleed, a native of the country I served in, too fortuitous to resist. The idea of an Iraqi knowledgeable and passionate about American literature might seem strange to some: Waleed was definitely not your average citizen, true. For me, it was a reminder of the people we cross paths with in this life and often know little about. It also reminded me that even as I travel continents away from either my home in California or my service in the war in Iraq, my experience as a soldier follows me. In this case, I was fortunate to get a glimpse of the Iraq I served in through Waleed’s eyes. Here are a few excerpts from our conversation.
Since we shared an interest in writing and literature. We began on the topic of his studies.
WALEED: I got my M.A. at Basra University, where I studied English-language literature, specializing in the novel. I wrote my thesis on selected novels of William Faulkner — “Sound and the Fury,” “Light in August,” “Absalom, Absalom!” and “Go Down, Moses.” It’s very interesting to study — I like Faulkner. After I finished my M.A., I joined a private college to teach English literature, poetry, drama, the novel, the short story, 19th-century poetry, 16th-century poetry. Modern poetry, too. T.S. Eliot, Dylan Thomas. I taught third-year students about the work of Emily Bronte, Charlotte Bronte, Thomas Hardy.
TURNER: What is it you like about Faulkner?
WALEED: He’s not easy to read. But what I like about him is his style. It is very interesting. For some it is very difficult to understand because it’s as if there is no plot — but there is a plot. It’s implied, because time is cut; it is broken. So in the novels we have time overlapping; there is no fixed time in the novels as a whole, specifically in “The Sound and the Fury.” So, the reader has to make some sense of connection between the periods of time. The characters. The style. Stream of consciousness, interior monologues, and monologues are all used well. So now I’m starting to write my first novel.
TURNER: You are..?
WALEED: Yeah. I’m using stream of consciousness, but not imitatively — because I have read Virginia Woolf, some stream of consciousness writers and short stories. I like it.
TURNER: Are you writing your novel in Arabic or in English?
WALEED: In English.
Soon our conversation turns to the war, specifically the period after coalition forces invaded Iraq.
WALEED: The occupation. Yes … Truthfully, I can tell you that most Iraqis wanted the toppling of Saddam. The civilians in general didn’t resist the occupying forces. We welcomed you because you came to take Saddam away. This is why I worked with you. So I joined the forces. When the forces came into Basra, which is in the south of Iraq, I was walking with one of my friends and we were chatting about the occupation. You know — there was looting and stealing from the stores, the public establishments …
TURNER: The museums..?
WALEED: Museums, yes. but also the schools, the universities …
TURNER: What were they stealing?
WALEED: Everything was stolen. Even chairs. Desks. Computers. So, my friend and I, as educated people, we are looking at these people wondering, Are they crazy? None of this stuff belonged to Saddam but they felt that for more than 35 years it was in his hands, you know what I mean? Everything belongs to the government, but it should belong to the country — and it does not. It is in the hands of the government. And Saddam controlled everything. You know what I mean? Every establishment, school, university. This is why they stole — as an act of revenge, against a power they couldn’t defeat in the past. They felt that when they stole they were killing Saddam.
We continue to discuss the looting, the burning and destruction of buildings. At this point, I’m thinking I should take a photograph of Waleed so people can see what he looks like, but I decide not to. I don’t want to make Waleed feel uncomfortable and I don’t know if, in the future, that identification might place his life in danger. When I was writing the acknowledgment’s page in my first book, I had the same thought in mind — I only thanked the interpreters I worked with by their first names, some only by their nicknames. I did this because I’d heard through the grapevine that 12 of the translators who worked with my unit had been murdered — their heads were cut off, I was told — after we left Iraq.
TURNER: How did you learn about threats to your life — I mean, did they come as letters under your door, or..?
WALEED: My neighbors did see me with the British when the patrol dropped me off [close to his home], which is very, very dangerous, and people began talking about me — as a person, as a traitor. And my brothers told me and my father, “You have to stop. It’s becoming very threatening to you and your family.” So many times there were messages coming to my mobile.
TURNER: Like sms, or phone messages…?
WALEED: Sms — not vocal.
TURNER: Text messages?
WALEED: Yeah, text messages. Yeah… “Your day will come,” which means: “Your death day will be soon.”
TURNER: How do you say that in Arabic?
WALEED: “Yomuck parid.” [my phonetic spelling]
TURNER: It’s chilling.
WALEED: So I rented another house in another area. And I began moving from one place to another, to secure my life and my family’s life.
TURNER: So the threats continued…
WALEED: The threat was everywhere in Iraq for those who worked with the occupying forces. Some of my friends who worked with me in the British camp were assassinated. One — his name was Fahad. An interpreter. Frankie, as the soldiers used to call him. And Basam, who was also an interpreter. And also my cousin, Ayad, a worker and cleaner who left two sons and a wife. These interpreters and workers were nearest to me; they were in my camp and they were assassinated when returning home from work with the British forces.
We talk for roughly 20 minutes about how, after one year working as an interpreter, Waleed returned to teaching in Iraq. He spent three years trying to get to Cambridge as a visiting scholar; at last, he was accepted in 2007 into a one-month program. With help, Waleed was granted a 10-month residency to study in England. He brought his family, too — though they are not sure how they will survive, having sold all of their possessions in order to flee the country they no longer feel safe in. He’s hoping to be granted asylum. The money he’s been allotted for the current period doesn’t appear to be enough to last the entire period of his stay in Britain, in fact. He never says this during our conversation, but I know that he’s hoping someone will hear this story and help him to live in a place where it’s safe for him to study Faulkner and to write his own novels
In a subsequent e-mail, he says he needs asylum status for himself and his family to be secure and safe; and another new grant to complete his Ph.D in English Literature We talk about the novel he’s working on — he’s halfway into it now, but I don’t want to divulge that part of our discussion. To be honest, he’s got a great idea and I simply don’t want anyone to steal it and write it for themselves. I can easily visualize it as a film.
TURNER: Is there something you’d like to say to the average American?
WALEED: As an Iraqi, we wanted the toppling of Saddam. And this was our dream as Iraqis. But once they did, they declared the occupation, right? [He later mentions that when he says “they” he doesn’t mean "the American people" but, rather the American administration of the time.]
TURNER: Well, it was December when they caught him, right?
At this point, I must mention that I remember when Saddam was captured very vividly. I was at a small fire base near Balad, just north of Baghdad. I remember watching colorful streams of celebratory tracer-fire from AK-47s arcing into the night sky over orchards and farmland. And I also remember being shelled by a mortar crew the next day, as if the mortar crew bracketing our fire base was methodically keeping to its schedule, regardless of political events taking place.
WALEED: Before entering Iraq they said “We’ll spread democracy; we’ll take Saddam,” but after entering Iraq, Bush told people that it was not the opening of a new era. It was occupation. And this is what disappointed us, in fact. Yeah. We wanted you to come, but the price was occupation.
TURNER: So, it wasn’t an Iraqi in charge, this is why..?
WALEED: It was a disappointment, a frustration for us as Iraqis. And our feelings changed, from loving…
TURNER: But, how would it have worked if other countries had come in, toppled Saddam Hussein and then just left?
WALEED: It would have been excellent.
TURNER: Yeah? But who would be in charge? Wouldn’t there be a power struggle?
WALEED: Yeah. There would be a power struggle, but I think just not to be occupying…
TURNER: I’m not…I’m just curious…
WALEED: I know what you mean … Stay there for a time. Manage the government, the new government, the new democracy if your aim is that, and then leave.
We end up by discussing the soldiers who served in Iraq.
WALEED: What astonishes me, really — when I watch TV here in Britain. This is truth and fact. Young people. They are courageous. Maybe 20, 24, 26, 27. Young soldiers. British soldiers. In Afghanistan. They are wealthy, strong, well-built. And they come back without hands, without legs. There are TV series about those who have experienced bombings. Last week, I saw a show about a soldier who lost his eyes and one of his legs. Another soldier, both legs. And he’s still alive. And, if I were in Iraq, I would say, “They deserve it.” You know what I mean? Here — I nearly cried for them, me and my family. He was young and he was very strong and was seeing life differently than we do. He wanted to do something for people — good things for them, but all of a sudden there’s a bomb under his feet and he’s nearly killed. I nearly cried, me and my wife. … We are humans. We feel sorry for humans. A young man losing his organs — it is very frustrating and painful. And this is my real feeling towards the soldiers who participated and lost their way.
TURNER: And this is what’s difficult — it will take so many years…
WALEED: Yes. For healing.