dumbfoundry

Ahmed Goda was among the first foreign journalists to enter Basra following its fall to coalition forces in May 2003. A writer with the respected Asharq Alwsat newspaper, he arrived amid the chaos of the invasion to find himself pursued through the streets by a hostile crowd who assumed the Egyptian would be sympathetic to Saddam. Goda explained he held no such partisan views and was, in fact, a journalist based in London who counted many exiled Iraqis among his friends. Among them, he went on, hoping to win the crowd over, was a man who had himself escaped imprisonment and torture at the hands of the regime.

The crowd demanded to know the name of this so-called "friend", and although Goda thought it a rather pointless request, he told them anyway: "Nabeel Yasin, he's a writer, a poet." The effect was immediate. Anger dissipated into generous applause, while many recited lines from Brother Yasin, a poem they seemed to know by heart. Goda was astonished. He had no idea that his friend's name meant anything to the people of Iraq - which Yasin had left in 1980 - nor that this poem, a personal recollection of life before and during Saddam's regime, published modestly in exile, had become the object of such obvious public affection.

Goda returned to London and immediately called Yasin - both poet and poem had got him out of a sticky situation. When Yasin heard the story he was similarly incredulous. The discovery that Brother Yasin and its sequel Brother Yasin Again had been smuggled into the country came as a total shock. No one, least of all its author, could have predicted the poems' decade-long journey right to the hearts of Yasin's countrymen and women. [...]

This entry was posted by eeksypeeksy on Wednesday, August 25, 2004 at 1:45 PM. You can skip to the end and leave a response.