Monday, June 11, 2012

Hotel Alborz


I'm reclining in a wicker chair on a cushion embed with the dust of many storms as a dark complected man with a tray of cha weaves through the tables of the street side cafe toward me. He is bringing me a glass cup that will burn the tips my fingers before I even finish writing. All the street side cafes seem to be located under hotels. This is the Alborz Hotel. I'm becoming pretty fond of it. Its almost a retreat from work. Or a retreat to peaceful noise. The resistance of a strong wind and the 

I'm told the waiters and staff are mostly from Mosul. 

Mosul.

Every word evokes a mental image as its spoken. City names especially take on a character or personality.

The Euphrates divides Mosul. Its western bank is its hub, but the city has grown so that it now extends onto eastern bank. It has grown to surround remnants of the once famous Ninevah. 

More than water divides this city. For centuries Mosul has been a home and refuge for Christians. There seems to be some deep seeded connection to the land visited by the prophet Jonah. For centuries this place has been under muslim rule. They, too, honor the prophet they call Yunis, and there exists a nearly tangible link with this people and the city.

In the last decade many Christians living in Baghdad and other cities in the south fled their homes as they faced threats on their lives. They fled north to Mosul, the historic city with a constant population of christians. 

Again this decade, as the Iraq War began pushing insurgents and Saddam affiliates out of Baghdad and her surrounding cities, these refugees fled north, to the city of many of their families. To Mosul.

The city teems with juxtaposed faiths and ethnicities fighting to be heard and seen. And not only in metaphor; this is probably the most dangerous city in Iraq.  

It is a city burning with passion and vibrant with fear. A city so volatile its refugees flee here, to "Kurdistan." A city burdened with this kind of pressure releases stories like an exhale of oxygen. They are everywhere. To be written. To be changed. To be given hope.  

Mosul.

2 comments:

  1. These just keep getting better and better.

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  2. I can almost see, smell, and feel where you are when you write. Great stuff!

    ReplyDelete