https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/jabbar/I am a well known Iraqi writer, with more than 20 books published, one of them has been translated to English Language in London 2003, I granted a political asylum 7 years ago. I currently live in Chicago and write stories, articles, and novels. My first book, Port Saeed and Other Stories, was published in 1957 in Baghdad when I was 19 years old. Since that time I have written more than 15 books of fiction (4 of which were lost or destroyed in Iraq) as well as hundreds of magazine and newspaper articles. My novel, Bin Barka Ally (Zankat Bin Barka), written in 1970, was published in 1993 in Amman, Jordan and won the Best Iraqi Novel Award the same year with over 23 critical literary reviews and articles written about it. Also, The End of the Daylight, published in 1996 by Alhiat House (Beirut, Lebanon), won the Story Club First Place Award in Cairo, Egypt. The last novel of mine Two Lost Souls, been translated to English language lately, now I have many short stories ready to publhourly12000-01-01T12:00+00:00https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/jabbar/496003Sleet, Phone and… by M, SAEED I was done with my shift at 11:30 P.M. Occasionally, I had peered out at the snowfall, but never imagined it would reach 27 inches in eight hours. The temperature hovered around 10 degrees Fahrenheit. I had to scrape the piled snow off my car, but I first I had to...https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/jabbar/496002Sands in a Sieve by M, SAEED A few days ago, my wife announced ecstatically, “The movie will open in theatres today! We should go watch it together this weekend.” I immediately agreed, for I am flexible to the bone when it comes to family time. How could I say no? She had waited for the movie to...https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/jabbar/496001Saddam and Khamini by M, SAEED H is legs almost gave out on him, but the voice of his vice-president, Taha Yassin Ramadan, reached him with encouragement, “Sir, pull yourself together. Be strong. They’re filming us with hundreds of cameras. Remember, showing weakness will only defang the...https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/jabbar/496000Saddam and Khamini by M, SAEED H is legs almost gave out on him, but the voice of his vice-president, Taha Yassin Ramadan, reached him with encouragement, “Sir, pull yourself together. Be strong. They’re filming us with hundreds of cameras. Remember, showing weakness will only defang the...https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/jabbar/495999Letter to Waffiya M, Saeed. Like a deep-red sunflower, his blood spread out beneath his head. I woke up at six in the morning, but already the Dubai summer heat and humidity were rattling my being and mystifying my existence. They were transforming me into a trembling jelly that hovered between...https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/jabbar/495998Rwanda and C.S.C. by M, SAEED A recent poll involving a random sample of two thousands Rwandans, representing the various tribes, factions, fighting and non-fighting parties, showed that the majority (> 99%) prefer to go back again under colonial rule, which led me to contact, C.S.C., Center for...https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/jabbar/495564The soldier and the pigs M, Saeed. Samer opened his eyes. What he saw scared him half to death. His heart was pounding violently against his rib cage. What on God’s earth was this? An enormous snorting wild bore was lying on its back less than six feet away. Its short legs were pointing in the...https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/jabbar/495375green plastic teether. M Saeed The ringing of the phone came like a sharp slap. I woke up. “Who is it?” “I’m Tony,” a man’s voice said. “I’m very sorry to wake you up at this time.” I looked at the bedside clock. It was 4:40 A.M. My sleepiness instantly evaporated. “I couldn’t find someone else...https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/jabbar/495138Figure in Repose By M, Saeed Trans. Shakir Mustafa Boston University ©English translation, Shakir Mustafa “Did you hear the doorbell ring?” He asked her, his eyes still closed. “Go back to sleep--it’s the athan. [*] She turned her back to him, and her head sank under the quilt as faint echoes of...https://www.blogit.com/Blogs/Blog.aspx/jabbar/494999The Train. M, Saeed The four of them walked together, carrying backpacks like school children, except for the eldest, maybe a twelve-year old, who was dragging her wheeled luggage behind. They would walk a little, then rest. They paused, mesmerized by the big station with its pale lights. They...