Muzaffar Al-Nawwab Remembers a distant childhood

Muzaffar Al-Nawwab is a renowned Iraqi poet, playwright and activist. Sinan Antoon interviewed him in Washington, May, 1996.

Illustration by Faik Hassan

MY FAMILY is originally from the Arabian Peninsula. They came to Iraq, but left it for Kashmir in the days of Abbasid oppression. They ruled parts of Kashmir, and they resisted British occupation. Later, the British exiled them and they chose to come to Iraq to be close to the holy sites [in Najaf and Karbala] and because this is where they had come from originally. The annual ritual of 'Ashura had a great influence on me. Our house was in Al-Karkh, and the processions used to march to our house and enter with their horses, the men carrying torches, rosewater, banners and the chains with which they beat themselves. I was very young, and some of this is foggy, but I think it had a great influence on me both consciously and unconsciously. Ours was an oriental house, and the women were upstairs in their black 'abayas. You would just see black: I remember the eyes, tears and wailing. They used to re-enact the battle of Karbala, and I used to play the role of Abdullah, the infant. All this -- the music, scents and colours -- had an immense influence on my poetry.

Our house was on the Tigris, and there was what we call msanaaya, a tongue of land which goes into the river and is surrounded by water during the flood. I still remember the sounds of the waves of the Tigris. Many people used to drown, and I still remember the sight of a mother wailing for her lost son and waiting for him all night. There would be candles, and people would wait until the corpse floated -- a very tense atmosphere. We couldn't sleep. The famous Baghdad clock was across from our house, and I can still hear its chimes in my head today. The Baghdad Saray was across from our house as well, and some important political events took place there. When I used to come home, my father would ask me to recite some songs and hew would play along on his oud. My grandfather would recite political poems and ask me to repeat them after him. We sang together.

I grew up in a politicised home and heard a lot about the British and exile. My first political act was participating in the 1948 uprising against the Portsmouth Treaty. We were in secondary school. My parents feared for my safety, and I caused them a lot of trouble because of my political activities. I used to run away from school to take part in demonstrations, and they would look for me in police stations and hospitals. The government closed the schools to stop the demonstrations, so we started to meet in our house. My father had a very progressive attitude and did not object. He allowed me to do as I pleased.

I was arrested many times, and I fled to Iran after the 1963 coup. I hid in Tehran, my feet swollen from walking for days. Some Iraqi comrades contacted Iranian leftists to arrange for us to enter the USSR. We posed as tourists. I spoke some Persian, but my comrade did not. He claimed that he was mute, but we were caught. They took us back to Tehran and tortured us. We were in prison for five months. There was an exchange, and I ended up in a prison in Baghdad. It wasn't a trial in the real sense: they would ask you to curse the Iraqi Communist Party, and, if you didn't it was prison, and if you did then you were innocent. I was the first to come up before them, because they wanted to demoralise the other 120 prisoners. They demanded that I curse the party, and I refused. They said: "curse all the parties, then." I refused again, and they sentenced me to 20 years with another three for the famous poem I wrote about the incident (al-baraa'a) [innocence].

I left Baghdad a few months after the Ba'athists came to power in July 1968. When the plane flew out, and I saw Baghdad from high above, I cried. I knew it would be years and years before I could return. I remember everything very vividly now, especially my childhood. I have intense yearning for the people. Some of them are dead now: both my father and my mother died without seeing me again.

I lived in Europe for eight years and I never liked it. I lived in France, Greece and other countries. When I am on my way to an Arab country I just smile. I feel the sun coming.