I Am in Baghdad

Mrs. Edvick Jureidini Shayboub, editorial secretary of The Woman's Voice, paid a visit to the sister country of Iraq last month, and in the course of her visit she made contact with various social circles in general and women's circles in particular. She has returned bearing many memories and impressions, some of which she sets down in this article.

... I am in Baghdad, in the mid-morning of April, breathing in the spring as it wafts from the green gardens, stretching generously along the two banks of the Tigris...

Spring in Baghdad is two weeks: the first of them touching the shiver of winter, the last the first heralds of the heat. The roses are laid bare, opening with wondrous speed — colors and scents — perfuming the air and breathing vitality and rapture into the people...

... I am in Baghdad, living two blissful weeks under the wing of a tender mother, and gathering with friends whose faces have been absent from my eyes for nine years — and behold, the old friendship is still alive, thriving in our breasts... and behold, the days pass swiftly as beautiful, companionable times pass, hour crowding upon hour, and day crowding upon day...

Blessed be the land of the two rivers, that brings forth such warm devotion; and blessed be the water of the Tigris, that waters friendships to such fullness and keeps them well-watered and evergreen...

At the Palace of Flowers

... By a happy coincidence, my first visit in Baghdad was to Her Majesty Queen Aliya, mother of His Majesty King Faisal II. The capital of al-Rashid was still in festival, for her beloved monarch had, a few days before, returned to Baghdad for his spring holiday.

I was in the company of my friend Mrs. Maida al-Haydari Mahmoud; the automobile carried us along a long road flanked by palm trees, and it stops at the end of the road before the Palace of Flowers.

... And after the first glance at the palace, fronted by its garden, my soul cries out within me:

"God's mercy on the one who gave you this name — perhaps it was the great grandfather, His Majesty Faisal I, who was known for sound taste and delicate feeling..."

For a long time I have admired the palace's name, and wondered how far the name and the thing named were in harmony — and behold, it is total and complete... For the roses, still in their first budding, look out upon the palace with something of a virgin shyness, spreading their fragrance without extravagance...

And the guards at the palace entrance are like the palms of Baghdad in straightness and height of stature...

And the white marble columns at the palace entrance, and the polished marble spreading its floor — the purest that the quarries of Italy have brought forth...

... Inside the Palace of Flowers the visitor is bathed in a feeling of ease and good cheer. The prevailing color is green, accompanied by light rose-colored curtains, and at the head of the hall is a royal crown ornamented in rose as well.

One comprehensive glance at the furnishings and decoration leaves the visitor all but certain that the artistic designer entrusted with furnishing and adorning the palace must surely be an Englishman... The shaded electric lights stand in the corners in charming shapes, casting sweet shadows upon the furniture and the floors of the rooms...

*

Here is Her Majesty Queen Aliya, at the head of the hall, tall and slender, in an elegant black dress. Here she stands for her lady visitors and welcomes them with a beaming face.

... In the hall are some twenty ladies. One group offers its greetings and another takes its leave, and Her Majesty is attentive, answering questions in Arabic, and resorting at times to Turkish, so numerous are those who speak it in Iraq.

Among the visitors are some of the Sharifian ladies, kinswomen of the royal family, and a company of the wives of Their Excellencies the ministers and the deputies, and other ladies of note...

The talk turns to the health of His Majesty, and to the length of his stay in the capital, and Her Majesty replies, her voice full of majesty and dignity:

— Faisal is very happy to be back in Baghdad, for he is deeply attached to the people, and he spends most of his time visiting the provinces and looking into the people's affairs...

One of those present asks:
— May your visit be a long one, Madam.

Her Majesty answers:
— We may stay a few days beyond the second of May, Faisal's birthday.
— And when will His Majesty the King finish his studies?
— He will finish his studies in two years, and he will be very happy indeed to return to Baghdad for good...

★

And we leave the Palace of Flowers for the Rihab Palace, the residence of His Royal Highness Emir Abdullah, under a powerful impression of admiration and esteem...

... Most of the ladies who had the honor of visiting the Palace of Flowers had preceded us in visiting the Rihab Palace, where His Royal Highness Emir Abdullah and his family reside... That day was a day of official reception...

... The atmosphere of the salon was Eastern, restful to the eye; dark colors prevailed in it, and its walls were adorned with famous oil paintings... At the head sat Her Majesty Queen Nafisa, mother of His Highness the Emir, a dignified lady in her sixth decade. Beside her sat her daughter, Princess Badia, a young woman fair of skin and black of hair, possessed of no small beauty... Then Princess Faiza al-Tarabulsi, consort of His Highness Emir Abdullah, dark, elegant, and quick-witted, as most Egyptian women are...

Here in this salon the conversation takes an unofficial turn; the visitors discuss freely and comment on the matter at hand with a touch of wit...

Another thing caught my attention in both palaces alike: that the upper class in Iraq always shifts into Turkish for conversation, as Lebanese women do into French... Yet I do not think this phenomenon among Iraqi women is rooted in the rising generation, as it is with us in Lebanon...

The conversation takes a natural course, and touches on criticism of social life in Iraq; Princess Badia puts a question to Mrs. Maida al-Haydari Mahmoud, saying:

— We never heard, Maida — what did you give birth to?
— Mrs. Maida answers her: — A girl.
— And did you want a boy?
— Yes, I wanted a boy! (laughter)
— And why this preference, when you already have a boy?

— Because the girl in Iraq is still limited in her freedom, and the traditions still bind her, and because of these bonds she is not happy... We, the mothers of this generation, seek for our daughters the happiness that our sons obtain, but we shall not be able to achieve it, because we cannot give our daughters more freedom than our mothers gave us — and that is little, and does not satisfy...

Her Majesty Queen Nafisa nods her head in agreement with Mrs. Maida's words, and the visitors begin to comment on this subject — some of it in Turkish, which I did not understand, and some of it very droll indeed. Its heroine was the lady wife of Dr. Jalal al-Azzawi, who objected to Mrs. Maida, saying:

— The life of the girl in Iraq has developed broadly in recent years, and it has become possible for her at least to voice her opinion about her life partner and say: I want him, or I do not want him! And mixed higher education has taken strides that go on widening day by day...

Mrs. Azzawi is asked how her own marriage came about, and she tells a story that is perhaps among the drollest I have heard on this subject — for Dr. Jalal al-Azzawi is one of the drollest personalities in Iraq, and his humorous stories are on every tongue; and his lady wife has acquired from him the gift of telling these stories in a captivating style, which set all those present laughing and asking for more.

And we left the Rihab Palace under this impression...