Santa Claus in Baghdad

A STOry FrOM IrAq (2000)

mal listened gloomily to the little speech that Mr. Kareemhad prepared. He spoke in a halting ashion, almost as though hewere making an apology, but clearly he was as happy as a bird.“And I know,” he concluded, “that my students will greet theirnew teacher with respect and helpulness, and will show how wellMr. Kareem has taught them about our glorious literary heritage.”He laughed awkwardly at his little joke, and some o the girls re-sponded with polite smiles.A shy bachelor, Mr. Kareem inspired more respect than afec-tion among his students. Many complained o his tough assign-ments and rigorous grading, although Amal thought he was quiteair. In any case, no one could deny that Mr. Kareem taught withcompetence and, in his stammering way, enthusiasm. He loved theworks o the old poets and tried valiantly to convey to his studentsthe richness o Arabic literature.

Another teacher leaving us,

thought Amal.

How many—four this fall?

But who could blame them? Anyone who had a chance ateven a mediocre job somewhere else—

anywhere

that wasn’t Iraq—