Saddam's Secert Police

Before you understand my story or any other victim, you need to understand what Iraqis fear. What does Saddam’s secret police mean and what does it “entitle”. Many people think that the secret police are just some armed policemen to keep him protected and keep things under control. Saddam’s secret police didn’t need a reason to kill, they didn’t need a reason to “invade” your house, and they didn’t need a reason to take your family members and bring them back dead or never bring them back. Saddam’s secret police was an agency that was developed and created by Saddam and people who are very close to him (his family members and the few he trusted). The agents that worked there were very well paid, and the more they killed the more money and power they received. When I say that the secret police was given money I am not referring to just a good salary, good raise, and I am definitely not saying thousand or two. I am referring to houses, lands, best new cars, and POWER….
So why power is important? What does it mean? Power back in our countries of origin means everything. Power is the ability to go above the law “legally” meaning you can twist and change the law with the knowledge of the government and it doesn’t matter. You become the LAW. The law doesn’t apply to you anymore. You change it, twist it, use it against the poor or the weak (the average Iraqi individual)..and get away with murders, genocide , stealing, torturing, invading, confiscating, anything and everything. The ultimate power.

My oldest brother

My oldest brother, his name was Ghazi. He was an artist, he drew wonderful paintings. One time he was asked to draw a picture of Saddam. He did what he was told. Later on that night he decided that this is not the true face of Saddam. My brother went back and changed the painting into an evil (devil like) picture of Saddam. When the security forces saw what he did they asked him to change it back or draw something new, my brother refused and he said this is how he saw Saddam and this is his true face. The secret police took my brother and executed him and brought his body back to our home tell us that we are not allowed to have any formal funeral and to bury him quietly. This was my first encounter with evil power. Back then I was 14 years old

My poem

I love Arabic language and Arabic literature. And during Saddam’s time we were going through a very dark era in Iraq’s time. As a linguist my first thought was to voice things. So I wrote this poem ( In Arabic of course this is a translation):
IRAQ…a Big Cemetery. Nothing but a Cemetery.
People pray “ Dear god…where are you”?
Saddam Jailed God. God became genie in a small bottle
People still crying deeply without tears
Saddam said “KEEP QUITE, people you have no choices I am the New Testament, I am the New Quran, I am the legend: obey me. You must!. No choices”
Saddam said: Oh my people, oh my slaves, kiss the ground that I walked on, oh my great people you deserve more death because I decided that, your destiny is to be my slaves. My destiny is to be your blind god to lead you from nowhere to nowhere.
I gave my poem to a friend. Or at least I thought he was. He took my poem and gave it to the secret police and that is when my life was turned upside down. I never thought that writing this poem meant silencing my pen and my brain for the rest of my life.