Where to start and where to begin,i really dont have any fucking idea where to start or should i be like am born there raised in there done this and did that but no i think i will start from the roots the real roots ,which some of them as you will see and read they are fucking rotten.
Iraq 20th April 1934 in Ali Al Gharbi my father was born on that day to a big family who contained 17 people in total,6 daughters and 9 sons,my father was the second eldest son.
My grandpa used to have a cafeteria where all my uncles and my father worked in it after they finished school,with the hard and traditional upbringing of an Iraqy family my father devoleped a character which would seem at that time as rebelion,dont get me wrong he wasnot like doing what he pleased but he just had what we call now a days a free spirit.
He was a smart fuck ,had all the top grades,never missed a class and was always thirsty for new knowledge.most of my uncles finished preminilary schools and they just droped out but not my father,he told them you are stupid to quit and to go to help the old man(grandpa).
Grandpa knew about this and was furiuos,he hitted my father so hard with the stick that my father broke his wrist and his thump,from then it all started the hate and the missery they both seem to enjoy on one another.
Until the day came where the fights were so hard that everybody inside the house were scared to interfere or scared for just giving an opinion and picking sides in the process.
My father just finished the highschool in Iraq and he came home whisteling his favorite Oum Kelthoum song (innema lil sabr hdood)with a mocking smirk on his face he went to grandpa and told him :look what your son did without you even knowing in which class i am,i just took the high school diplom!!
grandpa:you and your diplom are the same quality with my sandals(neaal).
F:when will the time come for you to acknowledge my accomplishments and my hard work .
G:Never is the answer you looking for my son NEVER so get that in your head smart boy .
F:well then maybe you do not deserve me like i definitley do not deserve you as a father.
G:What!!!?say you sorry for what you said before i bring the house down on your head you insolent bastard.
F:I may be an insolent bastard but am not your insolent bastard ,and by the way you are not my dad any more that much i know about you and when you die dont bother to let my brothers look for me cause if i come on your funeral am not going to do anything but spit on your dead ass face.
and with that my dad turned away ,walked to the door and turned to face my grandpa for the last time and he looked straight in his eyes and said:
ONE DAY YOU WILL REGRET THIS MEETING AND YOU WILL WISH TO TAKE BACK THE TIME WE HAD.
With this my father left his villege to go to study in Baghdad university for specializing in English and French langueges.where a new world opened to him.