SURVIVING HOPE

Surviving Hope is a film script I am writing. It documents the life of Iraqis in their own country over a period of 35 years and reflects the effect politics have on daily life there. It also shows how the ideas and mentality of human beings can change over a period of time because of hunger, suffering and death. The script below is a first draft which outlines how the story begins.
ZAIN Al-JANABI

Surviving Hope
by Zain Al-Janabi

Wars and political actions in Iraq

Scene 1: Set on 24th of March 1983

FADE IN:

MID SHOT of a TV in a room, dark background.

SADDAM HUSSEIN
(On TV)
In the name of God, most fearful, most merciful. To all great heroes who sacrificed themselves for the safety and security of our beautiful nation and our great historic Eastern Arab gate. Keep sacrificing powerful men and keep fighting till we see the last of those cowards dropping dead on the battlefield. We fought bravely for three years, and we can continue doing the same for 30 more years.

MEDIUM LONG SHOT – ROOM – of two young men and a woman having their breakfast on a table in front of the TV.

SUMMAYA
(Worried look)
Is he serious?! 30 years of war!

ALI
What do you expect from such a coward fighting other cowards?!

JAFFAR
(Smiling)
I think we should start preserving Shias.

SUMMAYA
All I’m hoping for is for the big ones to get involved and stop all this nonsense.

ALI
They are the ones who are making this nonsense. All they are trying to get to is finding a way to control the Middle East and everything in it, for the sake of the almighty Jews.

SUMMAYA
(Worried again)
What shall we do then?

JAFFAR
(Smiling, and shaking head)
Hope the time goes back for 60 years and wish to face the same destiny which Black Africans faced.

SUMMAYA
(Terrified look on her face)
Slaves! Us Iraqis!!!

JAFFAR
Better than dying on the side of this ugly coward, who doesn’t value the name of Iraq.

EXTREME LONG SHOTS of explosions and dead bodies in Basra. Sad Bansuri music on.

MEDIUM SHOT of a TV in a room, dark background.

KHOMEINI
(On TV)
In the name of God, most fearful, most merciful. To all people who sacrificed themselves for the sake of Islam and for the death of every single Israeli. We gave many lives away in the past three years, but the soul of great Muslim warriors will continue living in our minds till we see the last of those cowards waving the white flag and begging for mercy. My sons, all I want from you is to continue in the same way and try to get the mission done, the mission of bringing Islamic glory days back to where they belong. May Allah and his Angels be on your side.

MEDIUM LONG SHOT – ROOM – of two young men and a woman having tea.

ALI
Allah and angels?! The West got you to where you are right now, not Allah and angels.

SUMMAYA
He’s fighting the West, I don’t get you! How can they get him to where he is?!

ALI
He’s there, so the West can be there

SUMMAYA
What about us?

ALI
Us here, so that he can be here, so that they can be here.

EXTREME LONG SHOT of dead bodies in Abadan and different shots of women crying in funerals back in Iranian cities. Sad Oud music played.

MID SHOT of a TV in a room, dark back ground.

DONALD RUMSFELD
(On TV)
Man and the turtle are very much alike. Neither makes any progress without sticking his neck out.

ALI
No progress without sticking the head out. That’s why they are in control of everything, even though they are far, far away from us.

SUMMAYA
Don’t they work for themselves like our leaders do?

ALI
Yes, but the difference is that they put their country’s and people’s success ahead of everything, as a target to get to. Unlike us, all we want is growing bigger and bigger without bothering about how our country and people are getting on.

SUMMAYA
So all we care about is ourselves?!

ALI
Typically Eastern-minded, that’s why they call us the Third World.

SUMMAYA
Don’t you think it might change one day?

JAFFAR
It’s always been like that and will always be the same.

Scenes of aftermath of explosions in Iraq and Iran.

VOICE OVER OF A MIDDLE-AGED MAN
Over 600,000 lives were lost from both sides in the war. Trillions of dollars lost and both countries are still paying their debts. And all they gained was pain after pain of the sad memory, the memory of two neighbours who kept killing each other’s civilians for nearly a decade. What did the big ones lose? You’ll get the answer from looking at the ‘I Love NY’ souvenirs.

Scenes of Kuwaiti civilians being tortured by Iraqi forces (1989). Scenes of Shiite civilians dead bodies in south of Iraq (1991).

VOICEOVER OF A WOMAN
Saddam went into a second war, but this time it was against the whole world. Thousands of Iraqi children died from hunger, a whole generation didn’t know what the term Pepsi stood for, even though they are living in one of the richest countries in the world. Men had to queue for hours to get petrol although their country is one of the world’s biggest petrol producers.And finally we thought that the scenario had a conclusion in 2003, but all we gained was more and more victims being killed for no reason.Who’s responsible? It’s too complicated. But all we hope for is for a bright ending for all the suffering in all those dark days.

Extreme long shot of American forces in different cities in Iraq (2003).

VOICEOVER OF OLD MAN
Just like we hoped when Colonel Abdul Karim Qassim took control of the Kingdom of Iraq by a coup d’etat. Just like we hoped when the Ba’th party took power after violently overthrowing Abd al-Karim Qasim and quashing communist-led resistance.
And just like we hoped in many important periods of our bloody modern Iraqi history.

Zoom out of children playing in swings in Al Zawra’ park in Baghdad. Iraqi new national anthem music played.

VOICE OVER OF GROUP
At the end we hope that the hope will survive. Survive for the sake of our men, our women and most importantly our children.

LIFE AS A RAINDROP

by ABUL ALI

Life begins high up above the ground
A world beyond all that can be found
Slowly growing in size and number
Just waiting for the right clap of thunder

Being released with so many others
Saying farewell to our dearest mother
The journey below becomes apparent
That our life is just so transparent

The final few moments before the impact
The reality is that we can not react

But life is such that we are but water!

MY LIFE IN SLAVERY

by ALAIN MASSA

 

Five days have passed yet I see no sun

I have heard water dropping from the sky yet I see no rain

Family gone, friends gone, freedom also gone.

But memory’s steel is not gone.

They have taken my friends from me

My family from me, my freedom from me.

But they will never take memory from me.

 

The ship is ready

I am steel standing steady

Knowing this is not even the start of my life in slavery.

Close my eyes – I can still see my family

Wild sea birds, me and my family

Swimming in the sea

The sun shining so beautifully.

 

But I always came back

Back to this place that’s so dark

Places where I am treated like a wild animal

Just because I am black.

Punched, pushed and whipped

Over and over and over

But I always fight back

I fight for my freedom and the DRC.

Because I am Congolese

I fight for my memories.

 

I know one day my story will be told,

But will it be heard?

What matter what I know? I will die like I was made

I will keep trying up till I make it or get killed.

 

Maybe one day my dreams

Will became a reality

Maybe my life in slavery

Will become just a history

Just a story

My life in slavery story!

 

THINKING YOU’RE SO COOL

by FAITH DORE

 

Sitting up in his room wondering what to do,

Growing up in a neighbourhood thinking he’s so cool,

Blinging with the ice, having all the babes,

What else can go on are you following up with his pace?

Looking so cute hell yeah he looks good,

Having a brain as thick as wood,

Looking so fine hell no she ain’t mine,

Heard she sleeps around each and every time.

Living the life but having no good goal,

Should have had a wife but he’s having a whore.

Looking to the future thinking she knows best,

Moving around like she ain’t bad as the rest.

What else can go on is one going to change?

You should think hard what could happen or what might remain,

Could it be HIV, could it be AIDS?

Making the right moves makes you more cool,

Stop trying to be like others before you become a fool,

Why not try education and start going back to school,

You’ll be on top of the world with all the knowledge, you can rule.

He’s thinking, she’s thinking can I even do that,

Should we just say do you still want to be a spoilt brat?

Having your mind in control with a good goal in life,

Ladies, gentlemen would soon become your husband or wife,

Life is less painful than thinking your cool in a gang being stabbed with a knife,

Thinking on this, is this what you really want to fight?

Nothing is always easy, most things are sometimes hard trying to do what is right,

It never really seems to work out just letting us loose interest in life,

But aiming high for the achievement will get you to a better place,

Trust me! No matter what type of race, just keep up with the good pace.

 

 

WHY?

by IZZATULLAH KHAN

Monday. When I wake, I go to the window. On the road, I see a man and boy walking rapidly toward the city.

I open the door to the pigeon cage and let the birds out. The sun is shining and I run out to play with the rest of my friends. The morning goes quickly and I hurry back home to eat.

Then I take my net to the lake and a few hours later return with some fish. Itʼs time to go out in the village, everyoneʼs back from work and weʼre chatting and joking with each other. Then itʼs mosque and, after prayers, we sit on the bank of the river.

In the distance, on the road by the river, I see a man leading a black cow by a rope, followed by the child. Itʼs the same two I saw in the morning and I realise theyʼre heading back from the city and theyʼve bought a cow.

I watch as they approach and suddenly realise thereʼs another person, face covered and with an AK-47 on his shoulder, passing in front of us. Heʼs heading toward the city and walking a bit faster then normal. We donʼt pay much attention and soon go back to our conversation. But after the man passes the bridge the road goes downhill so for a few moments I lose sight of him.

Suddenly, his head shows up by the ruins of Ali Khanʼs house. I canʼt see too well in the dusk but I can just make out the father, the son and the cow approaching the same blind section of the road. Then the gunman opens fire. The sound of the AK-47 makes the air scream and the birds take off from the trees, followed by a momentʼs silence.

I see a man on horseback galloping towards us, his face as white as death. He tells us the gunman shot the man and is now fleeing towards the city. Everyone is in shock.

We run towards the blind spot in the road and there I see the young boy. Heʼs lying on the ground and his clothes are soaked with blood. Heʼs holding a pigeon and the bird is drenched in blood too. He could be anywhere between 9 and 12 years of age.

I want to go up to him, but my feet wonʼt move. An old man pushes me aside. The boy is dying and after he breathes his last, the old man starts praying. Then, with a handkerchief, he binds up the lower part of the boyʼs face.

As I look away, I see the father. Heʼs dead too and I can see his brain sticking out of his scalp. His face is unrecognisable, but in a matter of minutes people gather around who are able to identify him. They load the bodies on to a horse and cart and take them back to the village

It is getting dark and I walk back home, totally stunned. When I reach our house I go straight up to my room and try to sleep, but I canʼt. My mind is full of images of the childʼs last moments.

And I keep asking myself: “Why? Why? Why?”

MY CHURCH END

by ALMIS ABDULLAHI

If I were to write openly

Like I wann’ grow the world to see

Then I would advise you to run with me.

Change comes before the eye could see

But now the eye could see

All that be

Have we the community found inner peace?

New buildings can’t answer this for me

Though they can make outside look good

Make us proud of where we’ll be.

In my society

There are

Native Whites

Black Africans

Black Caribbeans, Eastern Europeans

Indians, Pakistanis

And thanks to Bush and Blair Afghanis and Iraqis.

Need for speed

My Church End stay close to me

I’m about to go deeper than history

The complexity of cultures

To tell you something we could all capture

Senseless

The twist is in the sentence

You’ll be approached by a mistress

Be seduced but don’t lose your interest.

The land is older than the Church

And the wooden one that could have been a church

The roots of this area run deep

Even I can’t get rid of the plastic flats one despised

I feel like they’re wiping my memory

What does this mean?

A new start or am I losing

Should I let go or should I be holding?

Transfixed in the transaction mode

Makes it harder to accept the mood.

Let go

Sooner or later we all have to go

Be who you are

Don’t be from where you are.