My son is a fan of the crime drama The Sopranos. He convinced me to watch the first two seasons of the show. It was episode 4 in the second season that got stuck in my mind. In that episode Tony Soprano (the protagonist of the show) goes to visit Italy for the first time. You have to understand that Tony is super proud of his Italian heritage. His Italian-ness is a defining feature of his character. And yet the minute he sets foot in the country of his ancestor origins he can’t get away from the sense of alienation. The violence the Napoli gangsters seem grotesque to Tony and he is no stranger of using coercion to get his way. The habits of people. Even the food, the beloved Italian food, seems strange to him. The Italian food in the US is different from motherland.  

With the scenes of Tony Soprano navigating the dimension of his alienation playing at the back of my mind, I decided to visit Iraq for the very first time in my life. “I am going to be like Tony Soprano, when he visited Italy.” I told my son on several occasions. 

One advantage I have over Tony is that I have a Ph.D. in belonging. I have mastered the art of making myself fit in after my many immigrations, learned languages and cultures. Many years ago I realized that belonging is a feeling and as such I can conjure it in my heart at will. I privately declared to the whole world that planet earth belongs to me and I give myself the right to claim a sense of affinity of every nook and cranny in it. 

However a trip to Iraq would be a real test to my hard earned skill in belonging. I didn’t want to leave anything to chance. I found myself compelled to do research on anything related to Iraq. I started by researching the ancient history of Mesopotamia. From Epic of Gilgamesh to poetry of Enheduanna. Then I graduated to reading about the Islamic golden age that saw the establishment of the city of Baghdad. That followed intense research into the Shi’a sect since I knew I would be visiting to holy shrines of Najaf and Karbala. And somehow that made me decide to read the Quran from cover to cover. As I boarded the airplane on Nov 1^st I felt intellectually ready. There wasn’t an area of knowledge I could’ve researched and I didn’t. But inside me brewed an emotional tornado. I would be meeting extended family. Some of them for the first time … ever. Although we are related by blood in truth we don’t know each other. How would we get along? Maybe they don’t care about me? Or have a negative attitude towards me. And then there is Tony. 

And thus I arrived to Baghdad airport with a huge grin on my face. I wanted to kiss the ground, hug the walls and send kisses to the clouds. “My country, my country! I am here!” I declared. Even a garbage bin seemed beautiful because it was in Iraq, such was my feeling of euphoria. The most ordinary things seemed magical because they were inside Iraq. I am sure all officials at the airport suspected I was mentally unstable from the gigantic grin on my face. I was greeted with a large bouquet of flowers from a family relation. 

What followed was a multitude of magical moments that are too grand to capture in a blog post. But I will try to list a few.

Drinking tea by the river Tigris. It has always been a dream of mine to one day visit this awesome river to let it wash away my secrets like it it for thousands of years with bazillion of people before me.

Off course I had to visit the other great river in Iraq. The river Euphrates. While taking a boat trip on the river a spontaneous session of dancing broke out.

There were many, many, many family gatherings. At each, a feast was served. There was so much food and variety of dishes that I felt overwhelmed with the choice. More important than the food was the sense of family bonds. Everywhere I went I was embraced with warmth, as if we have known each other for decades and here we are meeting again for the millionth time continuing a conversation that spanned decades. I was treated with such kindness and generosity that there were moments I worried my heart would explode from feeling too much happiness. I have hundreds of family pictures that are near and dear to me. I will not be sharing them in this blog post to preserve the privacy of the people in them. Instead I will share this picture and you have to fill in using your imagination with aunties, uncles, cousins and their spouses, children and much laughter. Try to imagine 20+ people sitting around this table. The sense of family togetherness was off the charts. I felt full in my belly and more importantly in my soul.

Visiting the iconic spiral minaret in Samarra.

Visiting the pre Islamic civilization of Hatra and exploring the polytheistic religious beliefs of that time.

Visiting the holy shrines in Najaf and Karbala. I have never been in a mosh pit. But I am pretty sure that attempting to get close to one of the shrines rivaled the intensity of any mosh pit experience in the world. And I had to accomplish it while wearing abaya and hijab.

Wearing one of the traditional dresses of city of Mosul.

Eating masgouf, a traditional Iraqi fish dish. The recipe comes from ancient Mesopotamia.

Watching the whole city of Baghdad dancing in the streets after a football game. Yes, you may assume the Iraqi team won.

Walking around in any street or any mall in the city of Baghdad. People watching. And observing the vibrant happy life flourishing in the place. Here is me walking around the neighborhood of Karrada in Baghdad.

I went to visit an orchard belonging to a family relative. I felt an irresistible urge to hug a palm tree but was worried the rest of the family would think I was weird. I had to sneak around to do it. I genuinely felt this tree hugged me back.

A visit to the ancient city of Babel.

A trip to Mutanabi street in Baghdad, famous for book sellers and frequented by those of us who love books.

A visit to Shanadar cave up in the Zagros mountains of the Kurdish region. Where Neanderthals’ remains were found from 75,000 years ago.

Upon return to Vancouver, the first thing I said to my son in the airport after greeting him: “My trip to Iraq was nothing like Tony Sopranos trip to Italy.” I feel that a hole in my sole was filled by the many magical experience I had in the country. I have finally mastered the art or belonging to such an extent that I even belong to my own country.