How was my life in Iraq? Oh I had the perfect life: traveled to over 20 European countries; had a 600 meter house, two maids, two cars, and three plots of land. I even got married and had 3 lovely children. We had the money, so life was, well, easy. And then, you know the story, life became not so perfect. The war started, political issues began to change, father died, my husband married a second wife, travel was restricted, the Dinar value dropped, my sons were targeted because of theirs names and...oh, you want to know more about my husband’s second wife? It is pretty simple, it’s pretty ordinary in my life now. He had a respectable job with the government, but in order to keep it, he had to marry his boss. Oooohhhhh that gasoosa—that spy—she took everything from me. I lost all of my wealth and property. He said he was going to return to us after “rebuilding himself,” but he went to work in Qatar with her.

But of course, I could not show any of these feelings. I had to push through for my children. I had to push through for myself. I had to embody motherhood and replace fatherhood, and I did. When we woke up to 12 decapitated male heads in front of our house, I moved us to Jordan. I protected my family. When we drove over 6 dead bodies on the bridge near Saddam Hussein’s house, I took my children and ran to the nearest open fields. I protected my family. When we finally escaped Iraq, I dressed my son up in an abaya—a long black dress—and dodged the Mehdi army’s checkpoints. I protected the family. I protected the family. Yes, I did. I think I did. I thought I did.

If I am protecting my family, why has my son gained 150 pounds and failed four years of college? If I am protecting my family why have I not been able to get a job to support my children? If I am protecting my family, then why do I have to ask my 22 year-old daughter to take me to my friend’s house or the super market? If I am protecting my family, why do my children have to help me with my diabetes medication and treatments? No, I am not protecting the family. Not yet, at least. I am only 58 years old. This is not old in your country. I will make it, and I will give my children the lives that they deserve.

I love this country, you know. I will always be Arab before I am ever Iraqi. These Egyptians are my brothers and sisters, but they’re struggling, too. So I refuse to settle down here. No, I will not buy a car. I will not live in 6th of October. I will not find a job. This is just one chapter of a book.

What is the title of this book called? Why don’t we call it "Living with Faith" for now.