Media Complicity And The Iraq War
...nor was it the resounding boom of cluster bombs exploding in the darkness, that had hindered his rest. No; by now, he had become accustomed to this soundtrack of war, that played day and night right outside his front door.
Today was his wedding day. Mahdi, a simple Iraqi carpenter, had met a woman named Samira. To him, Samira was synonymous with the word "angel." Samira Dania was a fair-skinned female from the neighboring city of Fallujah. They had met at a nightclub, clicked immediately, and within months, were engaged to be married. The wedding was set to take place on a balmy morning in May, and would be attended by 40 friends and relatives of the couple.
The night before, Mahdi's brother had arrived in the town of Ramadi. Mohammed Nawaf was accompanied by his wife, Morifa, and their six children, Saad, Fasila, Faisal, Anound, Kholood, and Inad. Their respective ages were 10, 8, 7, 5, 6, and four.
As the children cavorted underneath the warm Iraq sun, Mahdi dressed himself in the expensive garments he had purchased a week before. Morifa prepared breakfast in the kitchen, while Mohammed congratulated his brother on his upcoming nuptials. Although their nation was under attack, today was not the day to concern oneself with politics. Today was a day of celebration, a joyous occasion in which two souls would become one.
The wedding ceremony began at 10:00 a.m. Samira was outfitted in a luxurious blue silk dress, adorned with white lace and multicolored gemstones. A matching hijab rested upon her head, accentuating her classically beautiful features. As the penghulu (priest) read aloud their vows, Mahdi and Samiras' eyes met. Words were unnecessary. The twinkle in each of their eyes revealed all that lay in their hearts. "I love you." Love was in the air, on this warm and wonderful Tuesday morning in Ramadi.
However, Mahdi and Samira did not get to complete...
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