A Thousand Words
by Bob Higgins on April 23, 2006 – 4:09pm.
It’s seven thirty and I’m waking up over coffee and the morning paper. Through the kitchen window I can see the light frost slowly burning off the deck railings, offering a promise of decent weather for the day. I glance back down at the table where my coffee steams and the headlines wait.
In the center, on page one above the fold is a photograph from AP taken by one Karim Kadim. The camera has captured the image of a crowd of very angry Iraqis, maybe a hundred of them, although if the camera were to zoom back, the crowd could be much larger. They are all male and brandishing weapons, mostly cheap automatic assault weapons, and generally glowering at something to the left of the camera.
There is a intense lethality in their faces and an implicit threat in the weapons raised above their heads. They are clearly not having a good day.
I turn toward the window again when my dog barks at a car which has had the audacity to drive down her alley. The deck railings are almost dry now, February is nearly gone and spring is approaching. The dog loses interest and plops down at the back of the yard content just to loaf until her next quarry presents itself.
I feel the warmth of the sun streaming through my window and my eyes follow it’s rays back to the table, the angry Iraqi faces, and the headline, “Tension, violence grip Iraq” “Truckloads of gunmen attack house, mosque.”
I study the faces, young men, certainly none over forty five or so, one in the center foreground just a boy really, maybe seventeen, eyes almost black under hooded brows.
He is especially menacing, this boy, he has the eyes of a killer, he’s looking directly at the camera, his weapon held shoulder high pointing at the sky.
Looking at his eyes is like looking down a gun barrel. I can feel the violence and hatred emanating from this kid as surely as I feel the warmth of the sun now touching my hands.
I can hear their angry rhythmic chanting, see them moving almost dancing to their frenzied chorus, their rifles bobbing up and down keeping time.
The dog barks again, a neighbor leaving for work, I sip my coffee and fold the paper, no need to read the story, I saw the picture.
Bob Higgins
Worldwide Sawdust
http://sawdust.eponym.com/
