ITCHY FEET TRAVELS

Baghdad, Iraq

May 27, 2023

Al Rasheed street is the oldest street in Baghdad. In between modern concrete and glass are older buildings in a sad state of disrepair but they have a grace that the modern ones lack. I field hellos and “welcome to Iraq” as I walk along, heading toward the markets. In

Fresh fruit juices stands and kebab stalls mingle with arrays of shoes and bundles of clothes. Market day is in full swing. Clothes, buckets of olives, piles of plasticware share the street with and inflatable beach toys, candy shops, plastic flowers and leather goods. Perfume shops are lined with jars offering perfume mixes made to order. A tout stands outside with a glass bottle and stopper, offering a dab of their latest confection. Market day is in full swing and mobile stalls on carts jostle on the street. Plumbing fixtures and kitchen gadgets, electronic paraphernalia and children’s toys and everything in between is for sale. Megaphones attached to the carts hawk the goods at top volume while sellers offer a more polished patter.

And then I come to the copper market. Housed in an old covered souk with traditional domed roofs seen all over central Asia, in the days of old it sold only copper goods. These old domes rang with the hammering, tapping and chiseling of the gleaming copperware. Today too they gleam. The lane is lined with shops displaying a dazzling array of pots and pans, trays and cups and vases and ewers of delicate beauty. Some are functional, some decorative. The sizes run the gamut from small delicate cups to vases that are over a meter in height. At a couple of stores men sit hammering and chiseling. Men push large trolleys piled with goods up and down the narrow lanes, somehow managing not to ram into goods or people. But this market is no longer just for copper. Fabric shops form one part of the souk, stocking everything kind of fabric one can imagine. Bolts lean on the walls and swathes drape from ceiling to floor. An occasional carpet stall is draped with colorful rugs and piled with cushions.

I wander on to the one street I had wanted to see the most – Mutanaby street. It is named after a famous 10^th century poet whose statue graces the end of the street on the bank of the Tigris. Since 1932 this has been the book street of Baghdad. Ripped apart by a car bomb in 2007, it has now been mostly restored. Bookshops line both sides of the street. And then spill over on this pedestrianized street. Some are laid on wooden pallets and some on tarps laid on the ground. Most of the books are in Arabic but hidden among the piles I catch a few titles in English including well-known books. One section seems to have only English books, mostly medical texts. The street is crowded with people browsing, picking up a book here or there. On a weekend morning this is popular place and the street wears a festive air.

A cameraman is busy filming and the man next to me explains. It is for TV and they are interviewing people on issues that concern them. Smiling, he tells me of the common complaints – not enough jobs or money, or water, or electricity are common complaints. Not all are here to complain though. I follow the sounds of music and enter the park enclosed in the Quishla building. Inside a gazebo a man sings as a ring of audience listens. On a platform at the edge a man holds forth, as the crowd listen. And then give vent to loud appreciation. I ask a bystander and learn that he is reading shayari. These are traditional Arabic literary works that have long been a part of royal courts. So the tradition of poetry in Baghdad lives on.