Thirst: A Novel of the Iran-Iraq War (6 page)

‘I was startled by the sound of the explosion, but he remained silent. Then he murmured: “People’s houses; have they no shame?” And saying this he stepped back from the tablecloth. It was the first or second year after the bombing of Tehran had begun. I didn’t ask why he’d stepped back from the tablecloth. I assumed he’d just got used to eating very little at the front. While he prayed, I washed his clothes. During his ritual ablution before prayers he had asked me to empty his pockets. As I washed the uniform, filthy black water slopped over the side of the tub and spread over the bathroom floor. I washed them again, twice, three times. I heard him asking me to spread them out to dry, he didn’t have much time. I realized then that he was leaving again early the next morning. I didn’t ask “Why so early?” It occurred to me that he might have come here on a mission. Because in the darkness of the early morning, a car sounded its horn outside and he put on his still-damp uniform. I placed his boots next to his feet and watched him leaving from behind the window and saw the car. I saw him climb in and give me a wave.’

From the mid-point of the film on, the camera returns to focus on the tawny-white face of the man, panning all around him and giving the impression that he is smiling. At the same time, the young woman is asked a very forthright question: ‘Was that the last time you saw your husband?’ – ‘Yes!’ And then the interviewer says: ‘If you don’t want to answer this question, you’re free not to. But if you’re
willing … then here it is: between two circumstances, two stances, two moments and, so to speak, two points in time, within a short space of each other, for example, between the moment he arrived and the moment he said goodbye and left, which was more pleasant? His coming or his going?’

The young woman hesitates, but the screen of illusions does not give her time for pause or reflection, for thinking or for choosing the best moment, making it clear that the film has been edited at this point. All we can hear is the woman’s voice saying: ‘Sorry, I didn’t hear you! What was your question again?’

So he asks her again: ‘And this meeting … was it your final farewell?’

The photo on the shelf seems to be smiling more broadly than ever and then we hear a voiceover of the woman’s reply, played over a still image of the photograph of the man: ‘Yes … that was the last time.’

Wailing, the sound of mourning and images of green and red flags, and ranks of young men marching out into the desert. And the headbands, red and green, that are tied round the teenagers’ foreheads, like individual banners waving against the background of the earth and the monotonous desert, like a crescent moon torn into thousands of pieces, coloured in vivid green and red, moving patterns on the film’s background.

And the sound of mourning and the rhythm of hands beating on chests …

‘You never mentioned your husband’s name?’

‘No.’

‘Would you like to tell us his name?’

‘No.’

‘May I ask why not?’

‘He didn’t have a name. He didn’t want to have a name.’

‘Can I ask why not?’

‘You’d have to ask him yourself. He specified in his will that he wanted to remain anonymous.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Yes … thanks.’

‘
WELL,
SABAH AL-KHEIR YA KATIB
!
^*
What have you done about the report? I’ve been asked for a response by my superiors. They heard about this incident, and I’ve been given to understand that we can feature it in our international homeland propaganda programme. The more luridly we present it, the better. It has attracted a good deal of attention, and it’s important that material generated by us should catch the president’s eye. It’s a big deal; it could mean medals and honours for both you and us – drive a bit slower, will you, soldier! This gentleman isn’t used to riding in an army jeep. Slow down, I want to give us more time to talk – I’m eager to hear, Abu Alaa, most anxious to hear what you have to say. I’ve vetoed any TV or radio coverage of the incident. Not just because of the presence of Red Cross and all that … how can I put it? It’s because of the speed with which television’s immediate images instantly evaporate from people’s memories. I need a pen. The homeland is in need of your pen to record this incident. Even a short broadcast trailer to whet people’s appetites would benefit from the magic of your pen. The homeland, the president and the people are proud of the enchanting power of your pen. You and I both know – you probably better than I – that we need an appropriate subject to whip
up tribal and national sentiment. In the past, you have successfully touched on many different topics with your pen. Whatever subject you’ve discussed has been a success. Of course, those triumphs are testament to your genius. And I personally have no doubt that this incident will furnish you with another opportunity to display your prowess at writing. Let’s just say the raw material has been supplied and is only waiting for a skilful chef to mix the ingredients and cook the meal. Yes … an adept master-chef is what’s required now!’

‘Why, thank you. I’ve been compared to lots of things, but never to a chef.’

‘I didn’t mean to offend you, sir, really I didn’t. I’m just a soldier. Let me try another comparison. This one’s more appropriate, honestly. Imagine soldiers, officers, orderlies, clerical units and artillery, combat regiments, infantry and other units all ready and waiting for their commander to issue the order to join together, form ranks, and march in unison. In particular, it’s vital that the artillery receives clear orders so that it moves at the right time and to the right place. Now, in this instance, you are the commander and everyone’s waiting on your command. You issue the order with a sweep of your hand or by uttering the word ‘Fight!’ So, commander, tell me what strategy you have devised for unleashing a story that I’m sure will explode with all the force of a cannon shell when it’s first broadcast? This explosive round under your command, our historic document, will be just one of the tens, even hundreds of similar pieces of information that we plan to deploy to discredit the enemy: a foe who fancies he has a monopoly on
virtue and integrity in this conflict. We’ll target this supposed virtue and integrity of the enemy with your cannon, your pen! You’ll be glad to hear – I may have mentioned it earlier – that I’ve extracted confessions from those inexperienced teenagers. I can play you their confession on videotape, or you can speak to them yourself if you prefer. But in any event, suffice to say that we’ve made history today.’

‘Did you say
history
, Major? Did I hear you correctly?’

‘Yes, history, you heard me right. We’re engaged in another historic war with the enemy!’

‘I’m delighted to learn that you’re interested in history. Before this war, I was only concerned with contemporary news and stories. But for some time now I’ve been looking into the history of the tension between the Arabs and Iran. Of course, history usually reports animosities, wars and massacres, and ultimately, the defeat or victory of one of the sides involved. But on the margins of history, you come across some remarkable details that are worthy of note. So, a while ago, I decided to write a book that goes into all that history, all our victories and all the enemy’s tribulations and defeats. In your opinion, Major, wouldn’t that sort of work have a greater long-term impact?’

‘Katib … Katib … we’re talking as if we don’t understand each other’s language. Or is it that you can’t hear me, or haven’t listened to what I’m saying? Don’t you feel the same way as me on this question? I’m speaking in Arabic and your dossier shows that you’re an Arab, too. Unless your ancestors on your mother’s side were Kurds – and you know it would be quite a black mark against you if that were the case. You see, if it were deemed necessary to do a
bit of digging in your file, it could lead to your enforced exile from the homeland. To spell it out for you, at best you would be cast adrift in foreign lands like most of your colleagues, and you wouldn’t be in such good shape as you are now. You get my meaning, I hope?’

‘Yes, I understand you perfectly.’

‘So let’s return to our main subject, shall we, which is contemporary history. Current affairs, so to speak. We need your pen today. In the here and now. The past was what concerned our predecessors, but what concerns us is the present. The here and now. This very instant. Because it is quite possible that some Ajam
^†
aircraft might just have taken off, and by chance, chosen to target this road along which I, you and this soldier here are travelling to reach our destination. What I mean is, we’ve now entered a war zone and from this point on anything could happen to us! We’re in danger, do you understand? It’s perfectly possible for a plane with a devil’s apprentice of a pilot at the controls to slip under our radar by flying in at a low altitude and to suddenly appear above our heads. Those types of sorties are usually considered suicide missions. It is almost impossible for the plane and the pilot to return home unless by a miracle. It was one of those missions that destroyed our important barracks up in the north with a
huge payload of TNT. Displaying utter recklessness, the devilish pilot dropped his bombs on our barracks from the lowest possible altitude and then pulled his aircraft up like a
djinn
and high-tailed it out of there. I heard on the foreign news that the dreadful force of the explosion had shattered the windshield of his plane and burst the pilot’s eardrums, and that he had been killed instantly! But the other son-of-a-devil, the co-pilot I mean, was able to regain control and bring the plane, which otherwise would surely have crashed, back to the nearest airbase and land it successfully. But such unorthodox tactics are not confined to bombing raids. Sometimes they do it simply to show off their firepower and piloting skill and courage. Sometimes they’ll just empty their machine-gun magazine and soar upwards. But although it’s just meant as a demonstration of their military might, there’s nothing to stop one of those machine-gun rounds hitting a moving target purely by chance. Like us, for instance, just driving along like we are right now. That’s the reason why not every departure also means a return. I’m sure you bade your wife and family farewell when you heard the jeep’s horn outside. Am I right? You said goodbye to your family, correct? Yes? I can’t hear you, speak up.’

‘Yes, I said my goodbyes.’

‘So you understand what I mean by contemporary history? This is it. When the soles of our feet are roasting on a griddle, we can’t think of our barefoot ancestors who ran around aimlessly on hot desert sands, hollering, to God knows what purpose! Right now we must tend to the burning soles of the populace! You are one of us, and
this soldier here has been sworn to silence. So I’ll take the liberty of speaking frankly. Let me tell you, then, that on battlefields all over the country, we are facing endless waves of enemy troops, wave after wave! We kill and kill and kill. But no matter how many we mow down, they never stop coming. It’s easy to imagine that we’ve made not the slightest impact on their troop numbers. These waves of soldiers turn all the normal principles of war on their head. We try and maintain the principles of a classic battlefield army, whereas they … well, it seems like their strategy amounts to nothing but this: to dispense with all the traditional rules and principles in favour of martyring themselves.’

‘Major, will you let me cite an example from history for you?’

‘Go ahead! Speak louder so I can hear you. All this noise … and the sound of the jeep’s engine … please continue!’

‘It’s a complete 180-degree turn in history, a
volte-face
! The method of warfare you’re describing reminds me precisely of our own when we attacked and overran Persia! They had a classic army ranged against us, and we employed unorthodox tactics. If you can picture that period in your mind’s eye, then your idea of people running about on hot desert sands would take on a new complexion, believe me. If that period had only been imprinted firmly on our collective memory, then you wouldn’t be so surprised at the notion of waves of human beings so fanatical and furious that they can turn the principles of traditional warfare on their head and turn themselves into cannon fodder. For that reason I believe it’s essential for me to create a work that recalls the insane courage that our ancestors displayed
in combat. A work that could bear comparison with what was written in Iran’s Khorasan province a thousand years ago, all in praise of heroes and warriors of old, though of course it would be impossible in this day and age to create an epic of such proportions. But we can do our best both to delve into the meaning of victory and conquest, and to discover how to defend ourselves now. Especially by studying the manner in which the Abbasids defended themselves with the help of some Iranian families against Iranian rebels. I’m minded to write such an epic, pure and simple. I can only look at history from this point of view. And if this work does come to fruition, I’m sure that our homeland, president and people will be pleased with it.’

‘Katib … Katib … Katib … why not just think of the topic at hand as being a chapter of the same book you are busy crafting right now? Each story has a chapter of its own. This incident could have come from the past too, couldn’t it?’

‘Yes, indeed it could. As long as there is war, there are also atrocities!’

‘I didn’t hear what you said! Now there’s the roar of aircraft engines too. Say it again!’