The Son of a vacuum

Among the tall trees he sat lost, broken, alone again, among a number of illegal immigrants, he raised his head to him without fear, as nothing in this world is worth attention.

-He said: I am not a hero; I am nothing but a child looking for Eid.

The Turkmen of Iraq, are the descendants of Turkish immigrants to Mesopotamia through successive eras of history. Before and after the establishment of the Ottoman Empire, countries crossed from here, and empires that were born and disappeared, and still, preserve their Turkish identity. Although, after the collapse of the Ottoman Empire and the division of the Arab world, they now live in one of its countries.

Kirkuk, one of the heavens of God on earth, is one of the northern governorates of Iraq in which they live. The Kurdish race is shared with them, a race out of many in Iraq.

Two children of two different ethnicities, playing in a village square in Kirkuk province when the news came from Baghdad, of a new military coup.

Without delay, Saddam Hussein took over the reins of power, and faster than that, Iraq was plunged into successive wars that began in 1980 with its neighbor Iran, a war that lasted eight years. Iraq barely rested for two years, and in the third, a new war in Kuwait, which did not end in the best condition as the leader had hoped, as he was expelled from it after the establishment of an international coalition to liberate it, led by the United States of America. Iraq entered a new phase of suffering, a siege that lasted more than ten years, and ended up with the removal of Saddam Hussein from his power followed by the US occupation of it in 2003.

As the father goes, he returns from this road, there is no way back but from it. As the date approaches, the son stands on the back of that hill waiting for him to return. From far away he waved a longing, with a bag of dreams in his hands, a bag of candy in his pocket, and a poem of longing by a Turkmen poet who absorb Arabic, whose words danced on his lips, in his heart.

-When will you come back, dad?

-On the Eid, wait for me on the hill, you will see me coming from the road, waving, carrying your gifts.

The father bid his son farewell to the Arab Shiite city of Basra, on the border with Iran, after the outbreak of the Iran-Iraq war, as the homeland is calling its men, or perhaps the leader is calling his subjects. In Iraq, as in many countries of the Arab world, the homeland is the leader, and the leader is the homeland.

Months passed, the child eagerly anticipating the coming of the feast, but the father hurried to return without an appointment, loaded on the shoulders, the passion reached its extent in the martyr’s chest, with a sheet of paper in his pocket on which he wrote:
Every morning takes me nostalgic for you,

to the jasmine flower,

oh, melody in the heart, oh balm I sip every while,

To you, I extend a hand and a fire that ignites in the soul a buried love,

night shakes me with tears in my eyes,

my longing for you has shaped me into dreams,

stretching footsteps to the left and to the right, gleam,

calling out for me, you scream,

waking me up to the glimpse of the light of life in your face,

a thousand sparkles, in your eyes, a meaning of survival, a smile, and a glace,

Eid comes to you as a companion, without, life yet has no trace,

for roses, necklaces of love, so that you amaze.

-Where is Ruslan?

On the morning of the feast day, at the door of his house, the kids asked his mother,

-with tears in her eyes: He went to meet his father.

A moment of silence fell over the children,

-Raman, with a little gut: Aunt, do you mean he went to the cemetery?

-Mother: He went to meet him at those hills.

Rushing toward his friend as if he races the pain races to him, struggles with sorrow. Raman crossed the green fields between them. Since they met, they did not part, and they vowed not to do so.

-“I will not leave him alone, I will be his father, brother, and friend”,

this is how he took a vow to himself when he saw his friend crying and complaining about his father’s departure to war. Thus, he renewed the covenant on the day he saw him silent and alone, with his mother placing in his hands the farewell poem.

A hand patted his shoulder, wrapped towards him, and hugged him

– my friend, he is gone.

– he will come back, Raman, my father promised me that he will come back on Eid morning.

– Ruslan, he can’t keep this promise anymore. Now, it is Eid, let’s play and have fun.

– No, Eid will never come unless my father comes, Eid will never come unless my father comes.

---

From Zero Moment Novel – Click Here And Read