Guests of the Sheik: An Ethnography of an Iraqi Village (44 page)

Jabbar believed firmly that Iraq needed a revolution to

throw out the Nuri Said government, which had been set up by

the British. He thought that the feudal estates should be

redistributed equally among the people, He knew that Iraq had

far to go before it could achieve the technological

accomplishments of the West, which would, he thought,

provide every Iraqi with a high standard of living. Only under

a socialist government, he felt, would technological

development be accomplished as quickly as possible. To him,

socialism represented the application of science to the

problems of society.

Bob would point out that the West’s level of technology

had been reached very gradually, over a period of years, and

that “efficiency” in achieving social change often had very

disagreeable consequences for the people who were supposed

to benefit.

“We haven’t time to wait,” Jabbar would reply. “Look at

the fellahin. The people are hungry, they need doctors, they

need food. What can I tell them about democracy?”

As an engineer, with scientific training, Jabbar was much

impressed by the Marxist argument that social change took

place automatically and logically. One just established the

framework and everything moved along according to

scientific plan. Schools, factories and hospitals were built,

people automatically accommodated themselves to the

changes and the society adjusted to meet the new challenges.

One day Bob told Jabbar about an experience he had had in

a distant clan settlement, thinking that it might jar Jabbar from

his preoccupation with the Marxist line.

Far out in the middle of the plain, miles from the nearest

village, a tiny clan had settled. The two brothers who ruled the

clan jointly had received Bob and the sheik’s son Nour, who

had ridden up on horseback, and had entertained them in their

mudhif. Talk turned to politics.

“Why,” said the tribesmen, “has it taken Russia only forty

years to accomplish what it took the West a hundred and fifty

years to do?”

Bob questioned this. He talked about the advantages and

disadvantages of authoritarian governments, and mentioned

the help Russia had received from America and Europe, who

had gone through a long slow process of industrialization and

democratization.

“No,” the tribesman said, “you people could have done all

Russia has done in forty years too if you had had Marx to

guide you.”

When Jabbar heard this story, he simply said, “Perhaps the

man oversimplified the matter, but he is basically right.”

So went the argument between Bob and Jabbar, day after

day. But politics was not the only subject of their

conversation. Jabbar wanted to marry. He was handsome and

intelligent and many mothers of his cousins had sought him as

a husband of their daughters. But Jabbar had modern ideas,

and he wanted to marry a girl who was also modern, who had

been educated and who would be his partner in helping to

build the new Iraq. As he had cast behind him the families

through whom he would have normally negotiated for a bride,

he was obliged to turn for help to college friends, especially

Naji, a Baghdadi of a middle-class family. More than a year

ago Jabbar had told Naji that if he heard of a suitable girl, he

should begin negotiations in Jabbar’s name.

Late one winter afternoon Bob received a message from

Jabbar: “The news from Baghdad is good. Please come over

immediately.” Bob went. I waited and waited supper and

finally went ahead and ate alone. At eleven o’clock I heard the

click of the gate latch.

“What happened?” I asked, consumed with curiosity.

Bob sat down and put his feet up. He looked tired and

exhilarated at the same time.

“It’s quite a story,” he said. “I asked him what the news

from Baghdad was, but Jabbar said, ‘I see, Bob, that you are

in a hurry.’ I protested, and said that whatever he had to tell

me was more important than anything I had to do at the

moment. He seemed to debate with himself, and finally I

couldn’t help it and burst out, ‘Are you engaged?’ ”

“I don’t know,” Jabbar had replied. “It’s very strange really;

let’s have a drink.”

And this is Jabbar’s story as he told it to Bob:

My mother, Khadija and I went to Baghdad because Naji had made an

appointment for us with the uncle of a very fine girl. The uncle is an

inspector in the Ministry of Education, and Naji said the girl was young and

pretty, had been to school and came of good family. Naturally I was

interested. My mother and Khadija waited at Naji’s house while I went alone

to visit the uncle.

We drank tea and the girl’s uncle said to me, “Your work is finished.

Everything is arranged so that you will move to Baghdad immediately.”

At this I became angry and said, “I didn’t come here in order to be

transferred to Baghdad. I came to be married.”

The uncle said, “But I thought you agreed that my niece, who is only

seventeen, should finish her last year of secondary school.”

I said I had agreed to this, that I considered her education very important,

but she could finish seccondary school in Diwaniya.

However, I felt I had to explain that I was not ready to move to Baghdad.

My present salary would not permit me to live comfortably there, for rent

alone would take half my wages. I told him I had bought land in Baghdad

and hoped to build a house there in the future, but that all of this took time

and planning.

The girl’s uncle seemed to agree, and when we parted he said,

“Tomorrow I want you to meet the girl’s mother’s brother; he is Khalid

Amma, the Minister of Foreign Affairs.” I was very surprised to hear this,

for Khalid Amma is probably the second man in Iraq after the Prime

Minister. I had known the girl’s family was a good one, but I had not known

that it was so important. I was not too sure I wanted to marry into this family

for fear it might be beyond me.

My mother and Khadija visited the girl and her mother. Afterward my

mother told me that the girl was very nice and pretty, but that her mother

would not agree to her daughter’s leaving Baghdad. “It would be best if

Naji’s mother or some other neutral person were to discuss the situation with

her,” she suggested.

Naji’s mother talked to the girl’s mother for a very long time. Sometimes

the mother seemed to agree to let her daughter leave Baghdad and

sometimes she changed her mind. Finally she said she wished to talk to her

sister, and Naji’s mother understood that the girl’s mother did not want to

decide that day. The way the situation stands now, Naji will call me as soon

as he knows their answer.…

At this point Bob interrupted. “So, Jabbar,” he said, “you’re

going to marry into a rich and politically conservative family!

You and your liberal ideas!”

But Jabbar had just laughed, and said, “When the revolution

comes they will be glad to have me in the family.” He

continued his story:

The same night after I had seen the girl’s uncle, Naji and I

met in a restaurant Abdul Razzak, an old friend of ours from

the engineering college. I was happy to see him, for he and

Naji and I had been like brothers in college; since I am not

often in Baghdad, I had not seen him for several months. After

dinner Abdul Razzak said he had to speak to me in private and

suggested that we go back to Naji’s house.

Naturally I wondered what Abdul Razzak had to say to me

that was so private he could not mention it before Naji. But

Naji is very understanding. He went away and left us alone in

his sitting room. As soon as the door was closed Abdul

Razzak said, “Would you marry a girl who was twenty-five?”

At first I thought he was joking, because he knew that Naji

had been negotiating with a girl’s family for me and that I was

practically married already. But then I saw that he was not

joking and I replied, “I would marry a girl if she appeared

twenty-five exactly or younger. Why do you ask?”

“There is this girl,” said Abdul Razzak, “and she is very

wonderful. She is not married because for seven years her

mother had cancer and she was needed at home. Many men

asked for her hand but she refused. Two months ago her

mother died.”

I was very much surprised, for Abdul Razzak is not married

himself and it is not usual for a bachelor to know such things

about an unmarried girl. “How do you know about her?” I

asked.

“She is my sister,” he said.

Then I could not say a word, because according to our

custom a man never talks about his sister to unmarried men,

even his closest friends.

Abdul Razzak said, “You are like a brother to me, Jabbar,

and I want you to have my sister, whom I love very much. I

know you and I think she is better for you and you are better

for her than anyone else could be.”

I was very much moved that Abdul Razzak should trust me

in this way. I said, “I am honored that you speak to me of your

sister. I will come to see you tomorrow before leaving.”

After Abdul Razzak had gone, I told Naji what he had said.

Without hesitating for a moment, Naji advised me to leave the

first girl and marry Abdul Razzak’s sister. Again I was

surprised, for remember, Naji had made all the arrangements

for me to marry the first girl and had gone to a lot of trouble

for me. I finally confessed to Naji that I did not know what to

do.

“But it is a great thing for Abdul Razzak to break with

custom so he can be sure his sister will be happy,” pointed out

Naji.

“Yes,” I replied.

“You should be honored.”

“I am.”

The next morning I telephoned Abdul Razzak and said that

if his sister accepts me, I am agreeable.

And that is the end of my story, concluded Jabbar.

“But what about the first girl?” interposed Bob.

“Well,” said Jabbar, “her family is very important, but I do

not know it well. If Abdul Razzak’s sister will have me, it is

better that I marry into that family.”

“But,” said Bob, “won’t the first family be angry with you

if you break off your arrangement with this girl now?”

“We will never say no exactly,” said Jabbar. “When they

give their message to Naji, he will find he cannot reach me

until he has heard the answer from Abdul Razzak’s family.

Then if Abdul Razzak’s family agrees, my mother will have to

postpone several times going to the house of the first girl to

hear their answer. And in this way they will know without our

saying anything.”

“I hope everything will turn out as you wish,” said Bob.

Jabbar laughed. “God willing,” he said, “but I’m not sure I

know what I want. For four years I have had no prospects for

marriage and now in a single day I have two.”

By the end of the week Abdul Razzak’s family had agreed,

but the girl, also infected with the new progressive ideas she

had picked up in school, had said that she wanted to meet

Jabbar before she personally would consent.

At this news Abu Saad, the conservative mayor of El

Nahra, said to Jabbar, “You are making a modem marriage,

Jabbar; be careful. I don’t agree with your methods, but I still

hope for your sake that the marriage succeeds.”

Jabbar explained to Bob that Abu Saad was older and did

not understand that times were changing. Then he went off to

Baghdad and stayed for four days. I was almost as impatient

as Bob for his return so we could learn the outcome of his suit.

What finally had occurred was completely unexpected. The

sister had not liked Jabbar and he did not like her.

“She was too tall and bossy,” he said to Bob, “not

warmhearted, too intent on her own ideas.” The match had

been called off, by mutual agreement, and Jabbar was now

engaged to the first girl. Late summer had been set for the

wedding date.

“Are you happy?” said Bob.

“Well, I don’t know,” said Jabbar again. “In a way it is too

bad about Abdul Razzak’s sister, because it would have been a

good thing to break with a custom like that. The first girl is

very nice, and her family a good one, but yet …”

Bob felt, and I agreed with him, that the engagement, which

had been conducted in traditional fashion, lacked luster for

Jabbar, who thought of himself as a pioneer, a man willing to

dare great things in the name of progress. This aspect of his

personality cried out for a dramatic gesture to demonstrate his

position to the world, a gesture which the marriage to his

friend’s sister would have been. His present bride-to-be would

no doubt prove to be ideal eventually, but at the moment his

soul still yearned after the other match, which carried with it,

in addition to the untraditional aspect, an aura of romance and

friendship and sacred honor.

23

Death in the Tribe and in the Town

A high, keening wail startled me one cold morning, a wail

which was coming nearer and nearer to our house. I left my