We Are Iraqis: Aesthetics and Politics in a Time of War

1. What Every Driver Must Know

1 1 What Every Driver Must Know Alise Alousi No one to witness and adjust No one to drive the car —From “To Elsie,” william carlos williams “If it was good enough for Baltimore, it was good enough for Baghdad.” —Upon completing a new traffic code for Iraq modeled after the state of Maryland’s Imperial Life in the Emerald City —r ajiv chandr asekr an More phantom hands in this dying city now leaving blue booklets tucked under our windshields. Traffic instructions so worthless King Hammurabi won’t even lift a finger to breathe meaning into these laws. light reflective clothing should be worn when walking during darkness or cloudy weather, hold the steering wheel with both hands, for every hour driven, rest for five, learn to yield to wait We drive old Toyotas, clothesline holding the doors closed, “Seven Eyes” muted turquoise 2  Alise Alousi dangling from the rearview to protect us from evil eyes, as if anyone could find someone left to envy here. The courtesy at a four-way stop, white-gloved traffic police with ten confiscated cars and pockets full of dinars. Checkpoints, IEDs, decisions to make every time we venture out in a car, speed or stop, flee or comply. The potential to bleed, we all have it— to explode in a market, soccer game among friends, in lines waiting for a job or news of the missing. We carry our dead the way ants do, dragging corpses with intensity and care. There are many to bury before the sun goes down.  While you speed to reach beyond the barricades, cool greenness of safety enlightened occupiers. Dusk the most dangerous time to drive, except here. Suburban GMCs, Humvees , obey the speed limit set at 35 miles per hour. the driver must be seated, focus on the task at hand, keep from staring at any one object for too long, avert your eyes from the sun From our arak-soaked dreams some valium cloudy mornings, we speak of leaving. Measure the miles with pebbles, dropped teeth, bones, burnt clothing, scarves. Leave you to embed your limbs in our cars What Every Driver Must Know  3 streets, homes, when we have all gone, shoulders pushing through doorways, exit map in hand. Roadside shells of cars line the highways burnt then whitewashed by the sun brought to life by the wind only, passing vehicles. The trees will greet you then, the ones that grow here and no place else on earth. Remember the taste for me of the fruit, sweet then bitter and the small petals falling white in the yards. 2. Hana Malallah, Factual Text, 2001. Courtesy of the artist. ...