Mayada, Daughter of Iraq: One Woman's Survival Under Saddam Hussein by Sasson Jean

Author:Sasson, Jean [Unknown]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi

name of Hibba. I was so surprised that we stopped the cars. I got out and found that the owner was

shaking with nerves. I urged him to calm down, that I was only there for an ice cream. When he

served my ice cream, I asked him where he got the name Hibba. He told me that Hibba was the name

of his eldest daughter, and that he had named the shop after her. I was so shocked. I discovered that

day that Hibba was a well-known name, and that many daughters of many proud men carried the

name.” He sheepishly added, “And I thought I was the first man to think of that name.”

Ali appeared to be thinking back, trying to remember other stories. His ruminations turned again to

the fear he inspired in others. “I don’t understand why so many people are frightened of me.” He

looked at her with a sly smile. “Are you frightened of me, Mayada?”

For the first time she was afraid. She whispered, “Should I be?”

A gleeful flicker appeared for a moment before he said, “Never! You are the granddaughter of a

great man. All of Iraq cherishes you, just as your Jido Sati cherished you.”

When he went to pour himself a glass of water, she slipped a peek at her watch and saw that he had

talked nonstop for three hours. Thankfully, his telephone rang and he answered it. He whispered a

few words into the receiver, then told Mayada that he had another appointment. But he insisted that

she return the following morning, that he had many, many other interesting stories that must be

included in her articles and books.

Mayada had mixed feelings. On the one hand, she couldn’t believe her good fortune. She had done

nothing to win this man’s trust, a man who had previously refused to even speak to the press, yet he

poured out his heart to her, urging her to print his personal life stories in her magazine and in her

book. On the other hand, this uncouth man who imagined himself to be quite extraordinary could keep

a writer busy for many years.

Mayada’s mother had the most likely explanation for Ali al-Majid’s bizarre behavior. She

suggested that Saddam had encouraged his cousin Ali to open up to Mayada. Otherwise, the man

wouldn’t dare spill every personal story of his life in such a fashion. Ever since he was a penniless

student in Cairo, Saddam had been captivated by the reputation and gentle conduct of Sati Al-Husri.

Saddam knew the great man never turned away even the poorest student who chose to ask him

questions to further the student’s knowledge. Saddam’s fascination for Sati had been automatically

transferred to Sati’s daughter and granddaughters.

For three days Mayada listened quietly, nodded politely, and took down everything Ali al-Majid

said. There were times she would be writing and would look up to see that Ali al-Majid’s eyes were

fastened on her face. She would peer attentively at him, but she soon realized he was not really seeing

her, but seeing himself in the pages of a book. Ali’s manic behavior was exhausting and depressing,

and

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