Epilogue
Cry for me. I'm in pain. Two days after I left Iraq, poppa's best friend was kidnapped by uniformed officers. Two days after that, his family paid a ransom of $50 000 USD. Two hours after that, his body turned up in a dumpster. He was shot twice in the head after being tortured. The family said they knew he'd be killed, but wanted the torture to stop, so they paid.
Grandma told me that poppa and his best friend were interchangeable - any hitlist that had one would have the other immediately after. She had to tell me because poppa's in hiding now. Momma took the kids and ran in the other direction.
Pity me. When I came back, I got diarrhea. I felt a little bit guilty at the 24-hour electricity while I was recounting some experiences over a plate of pasta served to me by a guy with a black bowtie who called me "Monsieur". The next day I got an email from poppa with the subject line "im dun buddie". In it he said "I want to beg u for a favour, my brother". Money? Riches? A visa to Canada? "Keep me in ur dua". He's saying 'Pray for me'.
I left a pair of coloured underwear in with my whites, so everything came out a little brown. It's a god damned shame, isn't it?
what a world.. what a GODDAMNED FUCKING WORLD.
tarek
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