By Manal Omar
"Walk barefoot and the thorns will damage you…" ―Iraqi-Turkmen proverb
A riveting tale of wish and depression, of elation and longing, Barefoot in Baghdad takes you to front traces of a unique type of conflict, the place the unsung freedom warring parties are robust, vibrant―and female.
An American relief employee of Arab descent, Manal Omar strikes to Iraq to aid as many ladies as she will rebuild their lives. She speedy reveals herself drawn into the saga of a humans decided to upward push from the ashes of struggle and sanctions and rebuild their lives within the face of crushing chaos. this can be a chronicle of Omar's friendships with a number of Iraqis whose lives are crumbling ahead of her eyes. it's a story of affection, as her dating with one Iraqi guy intensifies in a rustic in turmoil. And it's the heartrending tales of the ladies of Iraq, as they grapple with what it ability to be woman in a place of origin you now not recognize.
"Manal Omar captures the advanced truth of residing and dealing in war-torn Iraq, a fact that tells the tale of affection and wish in the course of bombs and explosions."―Zainab Salbi, founder and CEO of girls for girls foreign, and writer (with Laurie Becklund) of the nationwide bestselling e-book Between Worlds: break out from Tyranny: transforming into Up within the Shadow of Saddam
"A interesting, sincere, and encouraging portrait of a women's rights activist in Iraq, suffering to aid neighborhood ladies whereas exploring her personal identification. Manal Omar is a talented consultant into Iraq, as she is aware the sector, speaks Arabic, and wears the veil. At turns humorous and tragic, she consists of a robust message for girls, and grants it via attractive storytelling."―Christina Asquith, writer of Sisters in struggle: a narrative of affection, family members and Survival within the New Iraq
"At turns humorous and tragic…a strong message for girls, [delivered] via appealing storytelling."―Christina Asquith, writer of Sisters in War
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Additional resources for Barefoot in Baghdad: A Story of Identity-My Own and What It Means to Be a Woman in Chaos
The realization made me feel even more pathetic. We did receive some good news. A few other SUVs had radioed in to say they would meet us at the border, so we would now be traveling in a convoy of four Jordanian GMCs instead of a single vehicle. Our driver still looked nervous, but as we pulled out of the parking lot, Zainab began to chat with him. Where was he from? How long had he driven the Amman-Baghdad route? Where did he think Saddam was hiding? I tried to enter into my own trance and zone them out.
Her rich experience in working with women in war-devastated areas, coupled with the fact that she was an Iraqi national, made her an Iraqi treasure incarnate. Because we stayed with Uncle Fahad for a few days, we were able to delay being dropped into the whirlwind expatriate life of soldiers, journalists, government workers, and foreign aid workers that was emerging. We were able to experience Iraq in a raw and unadulterated form. I did not want to leave Fahad, but I knew I could not continue to impose on his warm hospitality.
She had taken a leap of faith in hiring a twentysomething as the country director, and my calling it quits at the eleventh hour would embarrass us both. Yet there was also a kindness in her look. A sort of encouragement touched her smile, and it made me ashamed to admit my doubt. Great. I had managed to add a new item to my list of fears: disappointing Zainab. I desperately tried to put aside my worries and concerns so I could simply absorb the city as it was. *** Zainab was ecstatic to be in her home country and with her family.