Amid daily suicide bombings that have become part of the identity of their cities, Iraqis describe their lives. Ali Wajih, a young Iraqi poet, told Al-Monitor, “I’m no longer intimidated by death. Do not worry, I'm hallucinating. I talk about death, and laugh with my friends. Haven’t I told you that death has become trivial?”
Some Iraqi intellectuals blame media outlets for disregarding the human aspects of the victims of bombings and acts of violence, simply counting them on a daily basis and following up on the government’s reactions and stated measures. They usually represent repeated official discourse on the additional security measures, closure of roads and new arrests.
This picture has become a daily routine in Iraq. It does not only apply to the media outlets, which are no longer capable of following up on all the victims or reporting their repeated stories that are filled with sorrow and tears. It also applies to the people themselves. The way they deal with security incidents has gradually become part of the daily routine itself.
Iraqis go about their lives expecting a car bomb to explode next to them at any time. They say goodbye to their families in the morning, and deep down inside they do not rule out the idea that this could be their final goodbye. They continuously worry about their sons and daughters on their way to school or the market. In the midst of it all, a state of shock and surrender prevails.
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