I am Iraqi. I remind myself that I am. My parents remind me and so do my friends, yet I still waver and doubt how Iraqi I really am.
Another dimension to being an Iraqi is introduced if one was to live there. Not only will I have had an Iraqi education from my parents... I would also have experienced it for myself. I would have been able to form my own memories, opinions and ideas about what Iraq meant to me. Thus becoming an all rounded Iraqi is a two stage process: The Indoctrination stage and the Self-realisation stage.
The only proof of my heritage is that of my inheritance: I am a genetic mash-up of a Baghadi father and Basrawi mother. My parents are also responsible for indoctrinating me with a bias and an inexplicable affinity towards the Tigris and Euphrates. My mother has done an exceptional job at attenuating my taste buds so that they are most accepting of tomato based okra dishes.
All I've done now is make my upbringing and nationality sound like a scene from Aldous Huxley's 'A Brave New World'. I have only stated facts, and I genuinely believe my current status as an 'Iraqi' is all due to my parents' teaching.
The reason why this point is important materialises in what context one is an 'Iraqi'. If I was born and brought up in Iraq, my feelings about this would be different. My parents' indoctrination would be justified, if not necessary for my survival. I would have grown up surrounded by fellow indoctrinatees and students of the Iraqi school of thought.
Another dimension to being an Iraqi is introduced if one was to live there. Not only will I have had an Iraqi education from my parents... I would also have experienced it for myself. I would have been able to form my own memories, opinions and ideas about what Iraq meant to me. Thus becoming an all rounded Iraqi is a two stage process: The Indoctrination stage and the Self-realisation stage.
The latter is what distinguishes outsider Iraqis from those still there. An Iraqi who has spent a little amount of time in Iraq will be considerably more aware as to what this place means to them than someone like myself. This 'yearning' for your homeland, better known as 'حنين' (haneen), is only truly genuine when it has a solid foundation of self-realisation and first-hand exposure. My repertoire of Iraqiness is devoid of any such experiences yet I still have this 'حنين' for my homeland.
I have developed a neologism for this phenomenon: It is a nostalgic nostalgia. When I think of Iraq it is fair to describe this 'حنين' as a nostalgic feeling. Nostalgia for what? A country I have never been to and hence no memories of? You can't be nostalgic to something you haven't experienced!
This is where I disagree. When I remember Iraq and become 'nostalgic', a flurry of emotions accompanied by scenes of Iraq parade through my brain. I see orchards of palm trees banking a stream in which a Hajji is expertly fishing. I see book sellers in Mutanabi street. I see communities living in harmony and security, their doors unlocked and their hospitality celebrated.
You must think I'm talking about another country. Truth is I am. The scenes I have just described typify the Iraq of the 70s. This is the Iraq my parents lauded and longed for in their 30 years abroad, the Iraq which featured heavily in the stories they told me. The 'memories' of Iraq that I have and dream about are in fact my parents'. Hence my 'حنين' for Iraq is based entirely on my parents' nostalgia. My own feelings can be, at best, described as a nostalgic nostalgia.
Click here to read Part 2.
I have developed a neologism for this phenomenon: It is a nostalgic nostalgia. When I think of Iraq it is fair to describe this 'حنين' as a nostalgic feeling. Nostalgia for what? A country I have never been to and hence no memories of? You can't be nostalgic to something you haven't experienced!
This is where I disagree. When I remember Iraq and become 'nostalgic', a flurry of emotions accompanied by scenes of Iraq parade through my brain. I see orchards of palm trees banking a stream in which a Hajji is expertly fishing. I see book sellers in Mutanabi street. I see communities living in harmony and security, their doors unlocked and their hospitality celebrated.
You must think I'm talking about another country. Truth is I am. The scenes I have just described typify the Iraq of the 70s. This is the Iraq my parents lauded and longed for in their 30 years abroad, the Iraq which featured heavily in the stories they told me. The 'memories' of Iraq that I have and dream about are in fact my parents'. Hence my 'حنين' for Iraq is based entirely on my parents' nostalgia. My own feelings can be, at best, described as a nostalgic nostalgia.
Click here to read Part 2.
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