The Girl from Baghdad

‘As much a compelling chronicle of private hardship as it is an informative inquest into the East's recent history'
Time Out Sydney

Michelle Nouri was born in Prague but grew up in vibrant pre-war Baghdad. Her privileged Iraqi childhood was like a fable; full of sun and games with her sisters and cousins in the crowded house of Bibi, matriarch of the powerful Nouri family. As a young girl, Michelle didn't fully understand the tensions between East and West that existed in her upbringing — Muslim ceremonies, Christian friends, Communist restrictions, private ballet classes and overseas trips. Her adolescence complicated things as family tradition dictated she should marry a cousin. She resisted — and instead found herself flirting with Uday Hussein, Saddam's elder son. He invited her into a seductive world of tennis matches and moonlit concerts.

But then, without warning, her privileged world imploded. The idyllic city of her childhood was devastated by war, and her father deserted his family to take a second wife. Michelle, her mother and sisters were abandoned and left impoverished. In desperation, they fled to Czechoslovakia and embarked on a painful and emotional journey between cultures — Arabic, Communist and Western.

Cover

About the Book

Title Page

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Afterword

About the Author

Copyright Page

More at Random House Australia

‘We have to leave. Tonight, an uncle you don't know will come to pick us up and take us to the airport,' Mum announces solemnly.

The words hit me hard. Despite all that has happened in the past year – my father's betrayal, my mother's miscarriage, my father's family disowning my mother, sisters and me, the war – I never imagined it would actually come to this.

‘I don't want to leave here!' I burst out angrily. ‘Why do we have to go? The war is over. Now things will get better!'

Deep down, I know my words are hollow and that my tears, as always, can change nothing. We only have a few hours to pack our life, what is left of it, into
our suitcases. My father has already taken most of our valuables during his frightening nightly raids – the fine china we would use for special occasions, the rug that he used to lie on when I stood on his back to give him massages when I was little, the tape recorder that played the ABBA songs Mum loved so much. Our house feels like an empty shell, yet it signifies everything that is important in my life, everything I know about myself.

So many thoughts are swimming in my head, it becomes difficult to think straight about what I should take or leave behind. Mum tells us that my father had bought the tickets for our flight – one-way. I wonder if this is the final act of a man desperate to shed the memories of his past life? Is he happy with his new wife? His brand-new family? No matter what he does to show he no longer wants us in his life, he will always be my king – the man who defined my childhood with his smile and amazing stories of the wind.

And what of my friends? Dani and Bàsil? Uday? Before I start packing, I quickly make sure to leave our new address in the usual hiding spot at Bàsil's place. My stomach turns. Is this the last time I will be able to do this? Although I am certain Uday has found a new girl to spoil and flirt with, I dream that he will be worried by my absence.

In the plane I sit next to the window. The bags under Mum's eyes are the darkest I've ever seen them. My
younger sisters Klara and Linda are quiet and have run out of tears. I turn to the window and watch the runway shrink beneath us as we soar above the city. Baghdad shines with the few lights that remain after the long and devastating war. It is immense and beautiful. My heart aches. As we move further away, I can slowly feel the present becoming the past, the pull of an uncertain future, and the birth of ghosts that will be with me for the rest of my life. The city becomes smaller until it is just a sparkle in the darkness beneath us. Only then do I close my eyes.

This is one beginning. Let me take you to the one that started it all.

Eighteen years earlier …

Jana was chatting with her friend in a small, nearly deserted room in the terminal at Prague Airport. Her shift was almost over. Her uniform, a dark knee-length tunic, hugged her slender figure. She stood resting her elbows on the counter, softly swinging her foot. She twirled a lock of long blonde hair between her fingers – the rest fell loose, like waves on her shoulders, framing her benevolent face. She had porcelain skin, big curious eyes, and two barely noticeable dimples on each side of her mouth.

The crew members in uniform and some of the company's executives went by. One of the men caught Jana's eye. He was tall and handsome with raven hair and an amber complexion. His dark eyes hit her instantly.

He walked towards her holding a small suitcase in his right hand. The man on his left whispered something to him, but he was so entranced he didn't pay much attention. He stared at her insistently, and for a moment Jana thought the men might be heading right towards her. Astonished, she was drawn to his penetrating eyes. She turned away, embarrassed, a blush colouring her light face. She lowered her eyes while he passed by. By the time she looked up, he was on his way out the door. She was surprised to see him turn around to look back at her. He smiled at her gently before disappearing.

Jana needed to sit down. Her legs were trembling and her heart was pounding. She was staring into space, smiling, when Irena's voice rang out, ‘Hey! Is everything okay?'

‘Ah, I see,' she added with a sly smile. ‘That foreigner mesmerised you.'

‘Do you know him?'

‘Kind of. He's one of our executives. He comes to the Prague office every few weeks.'

‘He's got to be Arab, or maybe French. Perhaps from Morocco? Or Tunisia …'

‘I think he might be Iraqi, from Baghdad.'

‘Baghdad …' Jana repeated to herself. The name had always seemed like something from a fable to her.

Even as he was walking away, he couldn't get her out of his thoughts. He sat in the airport traveller's lounge, trying to figure out a way of reorganising his schedule, but he couldn't free himself from those dark, green eyes. From then on, he wanted to know everything about her: her name, where she lived, her favourite song. He was certain she was the woman of his dreams.

On the last bus for Dobříč, Jana continued to think about the stranger. She had always fantasised about meeting a Prince Charming who would take her away from her little town outside Prague. She wanted a different life to her mother's, a woman with a heart hardened by disappointments and war. After separating from her husband, her mother married the mayor of a small village and moved there with her daughters. Jana's older sister, Zdenka, married young to escape. Now, even Jana was starting to think that marriage was the only way out. She had to get away from the village. She couldn't take her mother's complaining anymore.

That evening Jana was quieter than usual at the dinner table, but her mother seemed oblivious. Determined as she was to spend her life grumbling about her husband, she bitterly served him soup. Men were just a burden, she repeated continually. ‘Don't ever get married, Jana, or
you'll wind up a servant, just like me. Look at this good-for-nothing! If it weren't for me he wouldn't even know how to change his socks. Don't ever get married, I tell you. All men are the same!'

Used to her unprovoked fury, her husband no longer listened; he was a submissive man and let her vent. He ate in silence, avoiding his wife's glares, then went into the other room to drink beer and watch television. Every night was the same, but Jana didn't notice the hostility that evening. The smile of that fascinating, mysterious man kept popping up in her thoughts. Would she ever see him again?

The next day Jana arrived at the airport and saw an enormous bouquet of roses taking up half the counter. Irena's brown curls peeped out between the flowers.

‘From one of your new lovers?' Jana asked while taking a seat next to her.

‘They're not for me, unfortunately,' Irena responded with a sly smile, ‘but there's a card.' She handed Jana a little envelope.

Jana opened it and read: ‘For my golden-haired princess'. There was no signature. She flushed.

‘Who dropped them off?'

‘They were already here when I arrived, but I checked out of curiosity. A flight from Frankfurt came in at sunset, and it seems that your handsome executive may have been on board. You know, the one who eats
you up with his eyes every time he passes by? What a coincidence, huh?'

‘Aren't you nosey!' joked Jana. ‘Anyway, if the roses were from him, he would have signed the card.'

‘He wants to be mysterious. Or maybe he's shy. Give them to me. I'll put them in a nice vase so he'll see that you appreciated them.' They laughed again and started working.

Jana was collecting her things at the end of her shift when the handsome stranger came back to board his evening flight. He stopped a few metres from the counter and gestured towards the flowers. He smiled at her, as if to confirm that he sent them. She blushed, then got up the courage to look him directly in the eyes and mouthed ‘thank you'. He gave a happy nod, waved goodbye, and disappeared behind the usual door.

This strange, polite and silent courtship lasted for more than a year. The day before every arrival, the man sent a bouquet of roses to Jana's counter, accompanied by a card inscribed: ‘For my princess'. She was very flattered and thanked him each time with a sweet smile, but nothing more. For all those months, no words were spoken.

Jana was confused. What was the use of having such a courtship if he never tried to get close to her? If it was all just a game, it was better not to fantasise. She continued to see her boyfriend once a week: the
sure, steady Jaroslav. He looked at her with hopelessly-in-love, puppy-dog eyes, but Jana found his languid looks a little pathetic. Even if he didn't make her heart pound, she told herself, he was patient and reliable. She had to convince herself that the best thing to do was to settle for the nice guy without any exceptional qualities.

It was the spring of 1971 when Irena invited Jana out for the evening. She was more insistent than usual, saying, ‘Come with me into the city. There's a place on Wenceslas street where we can have a drink and dance. The music isn't that great, but it's full of young people. And then I want to introduce you to the guy I've been going out with for a while, his name's Adel. You're going to die of boredom always locked up in your mother's house! We'll have fun, you'll see!'

The two friends arrived first and waited in front of the bar. Jana was wearing a red dress. Her blonde hair was a cloud on her shoulders. It was only then Irena revealed her boyfriend was not coming alone. Adel was an Iraqi, with pallid skin and snowy-blonde hair. He came to Prague often on business, just like his friend. Behind Adel was the mysterious stranger from the airport. Jana knew it couldn't have been a coincidence
as soon as she saw them, and Irena's conspiratorial look confirmed it.

He stood in front of her, smiling. He took her hand tenderly and brought it to his lips, skimming it with a kiss. Jana was shaken by the thrill; they had never been so close. He introduced himself as Mohamed. She was stunned. His name reminded her of an uncle who used to make her repeat that strange word, ‘Mohamed', for fun when she was little; the name that she couldn't pronounce and that always made her laugh. As a child she thought it was a magical word.

Once inside, they sat down at a cosy table. After more than a year of exchanging glances, they were finally side by side. Mohamed, using more gestures than words, explained that he organised the date after discovering her colleague was Adel's girlfriend. They spent the rest of the evening staring at each other, as the little English they knew didn't permit much conversation. Despite this, Jana and Mohamed understood each other. He told her about Baghdad and in her mind she could see the minarets, the green palms, the Tigris River and the white buildings of the city, simply by looking deep into his dark eyes. His pearly-white smile and strange accent fascinated her. Jana stared at him, enchanted.

She had to admit to herself that the stranger had charmed her. After that evening, even if she still wasn't able to leave him, she became increasingly aloof with
Jaroslav. She stopped to talk with Mohamed in the boarding room on each of his layovers. He announced his arrival with a telegram and left a box of zahidi dates with the roses. For Jana they tasted of the desert.

One evening, at the end of her shift, she found Mohamed waiting for her outside the airport with a long-stemmed red rose in his hand. He had reserved a taxi and intended to take her to dinner in the city – he wasn't about to take no for an answer. Jana, swept away by his poise, let him guide her to the car. The June air was fragrant and warm. Everything seemed magical to her. While the taxi headed downtown, she thought she saw Jaroslav standing near the airport entrance. Only then did she remember their date. He had been waiting there for her for at least half an hour, and had surely seen everything; defeat was written on his lovelorn face. Jana was remorseful, but Mohamed's warmth, as he sat close to her holding her hand with an irresistible tenderness, immediately replaced the thought of Jaroslav's heartache.

Many weeks later, Mohamed asked her to meet him in a private room in the executive area of the airport – he had a surprise for her. They had been seeing each other for three months and Jana didn't understand why he was being so mysterious. He only warned that he wouldn't be arriving alone from Baghdad; there was somebody he wanted her to meet.

When Jana walked into the room, she saw him seated next to a robust woman with Middle Eastern features, dressed in an elegant Western-style outfit. They got up together. The woman, although older than him, wasn't old enough to be the mother he often spoke of. She kept her hands knitted in front of her, her fingers heavy with rings, her chest adorned with a large necklace. Jana, a little frightened by her intense gaze, stepped forward slowly as Mohamed introduced them. Her name was Kasside and she was his elder sister. The woman hugged Jana awkwardly.

Kasside and Mohamed exchanged a few words in Arabic before Kasside moved towards Jana, watching her closely. She started touching Jana's arm, almost as if to test the consistency of her flesh. She examined her hair, her legs and her hands. She turned her around, checking her out as if she were a piece of merchandise or a horse. Although taken aback, Jana didn't say anything. She remained motionless until Kasside had made it clear she had finished. The expression on her face implied she wasn't completely satisfied. After the siblings had a short dialogue, the meeting seemed to be over. Kasside abruptly said goodbye to Jana. Mohamed quickly took his leave with his sister, and Jana was left alone in the room.

‘How could he do such a thing?' Jana exclaimed furiously as soon as she returned to Irena. ‘This is really
too much! Nobody has ever treated me like a piece of meat! They kept talking to each other in Arabic without caring to translate a word. I'm never going to speak to him again. I hate him!' Her cheeks burned with rage.