Commentary
Inside Iraq - McClatchy Newspapers
RUN FROM THE CAMERAS!
Posted by Sahar IIS
Fri May 2, 10:02 AM ET
At the bureau, we got an invitation to witness the return of 701 archaeological pieces from Syria, so our rotating reporter, Shashank and I went off to the museum. It was a strange experience for me.
The museum was one of the delights I remember enjoying from my early years. It was such a pleasure because my mum always told us stories related to those ancient civilizations, their heroes, their achievements and, of course, the greed that is the downfall of all human civilizations.
I knew every gallery by heart, to the extent that my mind would race ahead to the more exciting artifacts, to the bigger more amazing figures and sculptures, to the gold jewelry, to the musical instruments crafted more than five thousand years ago; how the fleeting images still draw me back to tales of those times.
As I stepped into the outer gates, there was a deep misgiving in my heart. I didn't want to enter the museum. I didn't want to see the broken remains of my dear memories. More than fifteen thousand priceless witnesses to our historical heritage were stolen. I knew the museum was looted, but I didn't want to see.
I walked in - and the hall was empty. The corners were covered with deep, dark cobwebs.
My beautiful memories were shattered. One more beautiful memory ruined in our unique march to democracy. I tried not to dwell upon my pain, and looked up hoping that the minister had arrived.
Half an hour later they opened the doorway to the hall in which the returned pieces were displayed and we entered.
One peep inside the hall and I got the serious urge to run.
More than fifteen cameramen were setting up their equipment in each and every direction to film interviews with the minister, the administrator of the museum and a number of experts who were present. Not just that, each and every reporter had his own camera and was clicking away happily. Where am I to hide? How to avoid appearing on TV with all these people filming around me? One appearance on TV is all the evidence the extremists need to uncover my deep secret - a journalist!
PANIC!
I ducked behind Shashank and hoped for the best. As I was in that delicate situation I looked around me. I noticed several other furtive glances and felt like laughing – I think I did giggle nervously for a second. But there was nothing for it. Out I came, and we spoke to the experts, took a few photos and ran after the minister to his car – and I wondered in my heart was I really running after the minister – or running from the cameras??
