Seja Majeed's Blog - Posts Tagged "larsa"
Finding The Hanging Gardens of Babylon in a War Zone
When people ask me where I am from, I always pause for a moment, and smile – because sometimes I really don’t know. In all honesty, I am from everywhere and nowhere. Yes, I know that’s a contradiction, but if you knew my story then you would understand what I mean. My parents are Iraqi, they were born and raised in Basra, but due to the Iran – Iraq war they left their homeland, and settled for seven years in Algeria where my father worked as a Doctor. I was born there, but at the tender age of one, we fled from Algeria due to civil unrest and moved to London, United Kingdom. My parents were thankful to escape the war, but once again they were forced to rebuild their lives. They had taken nothing with them, except for their hopes and dreams, as well as a few possessions carried in a suitcase. The truth was my father wanted to go back to Iraq, he tried to convince my mother of it so many times, but she refused – she would not go back, not when her youngest brother had been executed by Saddam Hussein’s brutal regime. He was hung at the young age of 21, and her family had been exiled. My other uncle had been imprisoned in Abou Ghraib, well known for its torture, and until this day we have no knowledge of how he died or where he is buried.
I was raised in Hackney, an area known for its troubles and drug related crimes. Life was tough for my parents, and as a child, I felt it. Nobody had to tell me what war or murder was; I knew what it meant, feeling it first hand through the eyes of my mother. One of my first childhood memories was writing a letter to the former Prime Minister John Major, pleading with him if he could help my people. I still have the letter hidden away somewhere - I was five at the time, and already I had carried the burden of the world on my shoulders. I would escape my troubles through writing and reading. It was my favorite hobby, I remember my father taking me to Oxfam where he would buy me endless books. We could not afford new ones’, even so, they were my cherished possessions and I still have them. I would read to my father at night as he tucked me into my bed, and there I would escape the cruel world of exile and loneliness. I know that this was not the life my parents dreamt of for themselves, or me, but through our hardships we have become strong and resilient, and so too have the Iraqi people.
The truth is, I may have been born in Algeria and raised in London, but my heart and thoughts were always in Iraq. I always wanted to visit it, finally at the age of 14 my father took us, though my mother refused to go, she had promised not to return until Saddam Hussein was gone – at that time it was an impossible dream. In 2000, I visited Iraq for the first time; it was an experience I shall never forget. I remember seeing endless portraits of Saddam Hussein as we drove through. I remembered my father’s warning whenever we passed them, “Keep silent, and don’t say anything about him.” So we did wanting to uphold my promise. We kept silent, afraid to say a word for the sake of our lives. We stayed in Iraq for only ten days, it was then when I learnt what it meant to have a homeland. Finally, I was able to see Baghdad, it was far beautiful then I had imagined, the roads were surprising clean; the palm trees tall and filled with dates, and the markets hustled with people. It was an odd sensation to be around Iraqis, I had never been around so many in all my life, and for the first time I felt as if I belonged. I remember going with my father to a street market that sold old books, and passing colorful paintings. Somehow you would forget the brutal regime, war and death – and you just lived for today.
My experiences as a child have certainly shaped me to be who I am now. I grew up always wanting to find a place where I belonged, but I know that I shall never find it because I am from everywhere and nowhere. In reality, I have become a product of war, and though it saddens me to say such a thing, I see it as a blessing, because it has made me become strong and determined to rebuild my country, and want better for my people. Through all the hardships I faced as a child, much of which I have not discussed, I am now in a place where I can stand proud – I obtained a law degree and masters, and I won a place to work for an oil company through their graduate scheme. I’ve also written a novel called ‘The Forgotten Tale of Larsa,’ about Iraq’s glorious history on Babylon and Assyria, and I have dedicated this to my uncles and people. For four months I travelled to Iraq weekly, seeing Basra and learning more about the country where I am from. But I shall never forget what I owe to London and Algeria, for it gave me an education, and offered my family a home when we had none. There is much that I still want to achieve in my life; this is only the beginning, and as I say in my novel, if it is not for the hardships we endure in life, then we shall never learn our strengths.
My novel is about a princess from a Kingdom called the Garden of the Gods who becomes the slave of a ruthless Assyrian Emperor; the novel is an epic, it took me nearly nine years to write. The journey was hard and difficult. People always ask me what inspired me to write my story, in all honesty, it’s a combination of reasons, I had just finished university at the age of 21, that’s when the recession hit, and I could not get a job. I had finished law, optimistic that I could start a new life – but jobs were scarce and dreams were worthless. On top of that I was extremely ill, my weight had plummeted to 35 kg and I could barely move or walk. In some ways, I felt I wanted to escape my reality, and enter a new one where I was important.
I remember standing by my window every day, we had moved from hackney to Westminster, the view was not great, there were train tracks right opposite my window where the busy metropolitan train would pass, literally every couple of minutes. But over the train tracks, was a small greenery behind the buildings, it came from regents park, I could see it, and I would imagine that was the ‘Garden of the Gods’ – my very own kingdom. So I sat down every night, I would start writing at 1 PM – and work until the dawn, until 7 am. My body clock had gone out of sync by then, and my health had deteriorated, but I carried on pursuing my dream – I wasn’t thinking about writing a story, I was literally entering a world which I felt I controlled.
I have always had a vivid imagination, and it felt real to me. My sister would come and read my chapters, she was the only person I shared my story too. I didn’t want to tell anyone else, but my parents knew I was writing something, they felt rather concerned in fact, it wasn’t healthy for a woman my age to have such odd sleeping patterns, and rarely go out. Sometimes I would stay in the house for a week, barely going out to breathe air, l had imprisoned myself in reality, but I was free in my imagination. I thought about my novel every day, I heard my character’s voices, and felt their pain. They were a part of me, giving me a reason to carry on, and be optimistic despite my struggles. Eventually, I finished the novel, but by the time I had completed it my writing had changed, the beginning chapters were not as good as the ending, because the quality of my writing had improved. By that point the story line had become clear and the characters were defined. So I rewrote my novel again from scratch, keeping the story line the same but improving my writing and chapters. In fact I did this three times. So now, I’m 28, the young woman who wrote this story has changed so much, and so too has her life. I find myself here, writing this piece in Dubai, a thousand miles away from where I started, but my dream remains the same, to tell a story of love, war and betrayal. Even if it does not become a best seller, I am proud of my achievement and thankful to my characters for they taught me to be resilient, and inspired me to find my voice when I was trapped by silence.
By Seja Majeed
I was raised in Hackney, an area known for its troubles and drug related crimes. Life was tough for my parents, and as a child, I felt it. Nobody had to tell me what war or murder was; I knew what it meant, feeling it first hand through the eyes of my mother. One of my first childhood memories was writing a letter to the former Prime Minister John Major, pleading with him if he could help my people. I still have the letter hidden away somewhere - I was five at the time, and already I had carried the burden of the world on my shoulders. I would escape my troubles through writing and reading. It was my favorite hobby, I remember my father taking me to Oxfam where he would buy me endless books. We could not afford new ones’, even so, they were my cherished possessions and I still have them. I would read to my father at night as he tucked me into my bed, and there I would escape the cruel world of exile and loneliness. I know that this was not the life my parents dreamt of for themselves, or me, but through our hardships we have become strong and resilient, and so too have the Iraqi people.
The truth is, I may have been born in Algeria and raised in London, but my heart and thoughts were always in Iraq. I always wanted to visit it, finally at the age of 14 my father took us, though my mother refused to go, she had promised not to return until Saddam Hussein was gone – at that time it was an impossible dream. In 2000, I visited Iraq for the first time; it was an experience I shall never forget. I remember seeing endless portraits of Saddam Hussein as we drove through. I remembered my father’s warning whenever we passed them, “Keep silent, and don’t say anything about him.” So we did wanting to uphold my promise. We kept silent, afraid to say a word for the sake of our lives. We stayed in Iraq for only ten days, it was then when I learnt what it meant to have a homeland. Finally, I was able to see Baghdad, it was far beautiful then I had imagined, the roads were surprising clean; the palm trees tall and filled with dates, and the markets hustled with people. It was an odd sensation to be around Iraqis, I had never been around so many in all my life, and for the first time I felt as if I belonged. I remember going with my father to a street market that sold old books, and passing colorful paintings. Somehow you would forget the brutal regime, war and death – and you just lived for today.
My experiences as a child have certainly shaped me to be who I am now. I grew up always wanting to find a place where I belonged, but I know that I shall never find it because I am from everywhere and nowhere. In reality, I have become a product of war, and though it saddens me to say such a thing, I see it as a blessing, because it has made me become strong and determined to rebuild my country, and want better for my people. Through all the hardships I faced as a child, much of which I have not discussed, I am now in a place where I can stand proud – I obtained a law degree and masters, and I won a place to work for an oil company through their graduate scheme. I’ve also written a novel called ‘The Forgotten Tale of Larsa,’ about Iraq’s glorious history on Babylon and Assyria, and I have dedicated this to my uncles and people. For four months I travelled to Iraq weekly, seeing Basra and learning more about the country where I am from. But I shall never forget what I owe to London and Algeria, for it gave me an education, and offered my family a home when we had none. There is much that I still want to achieve in my life; this is only the beginning, and as I say in my novel, if it is not for the hardships we endure in life, then we shall never learn our strengths.
My novel is about a princess from a Kingdom called the Garden of the Gods who becomes the slave of a ruthless Assyrian Emperor; the novel is an epic, it took me nearly nine years to write. The journey was hard and difficult. People always ask me what inspired me to write my story, in all honesty, it’s a combination of reasons, I had just finished university at the age of 21, that’s when the recession hit, and I could not get a job. I had finished law, optimistic that I could start a new life – but jobs were scarce and dreams were worthless. On top of that I was extremely ill, my weight had plummeted to 35 kg and I could barely move or walk. In some ways, I felt I wanted to escape my reality, and enter a new one where I was important.
I remember standing by my window every day, we had moved from hackney to Westminster, the view was not great, there were train tracks right opposite my window where the busy metropolitan train would pass, literally every couple of minutes. But over the train tracks, was a small greenery behind the buildings, it came from regents park, I could see it, and I would imagine that was the ‘Garden of the Gods’ – my very own kingdom. So I sat down every night, I would start writing at 1 PM – and work until the dawn, until 7 am. My body clock had gone out of sync by then, and my health had deteriorated, but I carried on pursuing my dream – I wasn’t thinking about writing a story, I was literally entering a world which I felt I controlled.
I have always had a vivid imagination, and it felt real to me. My sister would come and read my chapters, she was the only person I shared my story too. I didn’t want to tell anyone else, but my parents knew I was writing something, they felt rather concerned in fact, it wasn’t healthy for a woman my age to have such odd sleeping patterns, and rarely go out. Sometimes I would stay in the house for a week, barely going out to breathe air, l had imprisoned myself in reality, but I was free in my imagination. I thought about my novel every day, I heard my character’s voices, and felt their pain. They were a part of me, giving me a reason to carry on, and be optimistic despite my struggles. Eventually, I finished the novel, but by the time I had completed it my writing had changed, the beginning chapters were not as good as the ending, because the quality of my writing had improved. By that point the story line had become clear and the characters were defined. So I rewrote my novel again from scratch, keeping the story line the same but improving my writing and chapters. In fact I did this three times. So now, I’m 28, the young woman who wrote this story has changed so much, and so too has her life. I find myself here, writing this piece in Dubai, a thousand miles away from where I started, but my dream remains the same, to tell a story of love, war and betrayal. Even if it does not become a best seller, I am proud of my achievement and thankful to my characters for they taught me to be resilient, and inspired me to find my voice when I was trapped by silence.
By Seja Majeed
