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Dr Bnar Talabani, who received award for combatting Covid-19 misinformation, says British monarch showed keen interest in her background.
A doctor who arrived in the UK as a child refugee from Iraq has received a top award from King Charles III for her prominent role in combatting Covid-19 misinformation throughout the pandemic.
Dr Bnar Talabani beamed as the monarch, 74, pinned the ribbon of the Member of the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire (MBE) on her dress during a ceremony at Windsor Castle on Thursday.
She said the monarch, 74, was “really interested” to hear about her background.
The immunology scientist shared photos of their meeting on social media.
“Investiture at Windsor Castle: I met His Majesty the King who was really interested in my background as a former refugee and was utterly delightful to talk to,” she wrote.
“Really special day celebrating with my wonderful family.”
The king could be seen shaking Dr Talabani’s hand and pinning a red ribbon on her dress, in the pictures.
As congratulations poured in for the outspoken doctor, she said she felt “really overwhelmed by everyone’s kind responses”.
Dr Talabani was born in 1988 in northern Iraq to a Kurdish family.
As a toddler, she left her homeland for Iran along with her mother and younger brother to escape Saddam Hussein’s regime. Her father and grandfather remained behind to fight against the dictator.
After making their way to Syria, the Talabanis were recognised as refugees and welcomed to the UK.
Dr Talabani went on to graduate from medical school and pursue a career as a kidney and transplant hospital doctor and immunology scientist at Cardiff University.
She also works as a guide for Team Halo, a global group of scientists and healthcare professionals working to dispel misinformation about the coronavirus.
During the height of the public health crisis she made a name for herself on TikTok.
Dr Talabani used her platform on social media to reach followers, many of them young people, to challenge false and inaccurate claims about Covid.
Despite a crush that killed two people, the match went ahead and Iraq beat Oman 3-2 to win the 25th title.
At least two people died and more than 60 were injured after a crush at Iraq’s Basra International Stadium hours before the Gulf Cup final in which Iraq were crowned champions.
The match went ahead despite Iraq’s state news agency confirming one person had died and 60 were injured, while provincial health authorities said a young female doctor had also died.
Hamza Ahmed, 26, from Baghdad, died after being caught up in the incident, his brother Omar told The National. He had been in Basra since the start of the tournament. His brother, cousin and friend were injured.
The Arab Gulf Football Federation announced the match would go ahead as scheduled, and Iraq claimed the trophy after a close encounter.
Iraq opened the scoring through midfielder Ibrahim Bayesh after 24 minutes. Ten minutes into added time Omani midfielder Salaah Al Yahyaei levelled from a penalty, sending the match into extra time.
Midfielder Amjad Attwan put Iraq ahead after 116 minutes with another penalty, but three minutes later Omani striker Omar Al Malki levelled again with a header.
Iraqi defender Manaf Younis scored the winning goal two minutes into added time.
Thousands of fans had walked to the 65,000-capacity stadium on Thursday morning before the match, with many prevented from entering.
A video posted on social media, apparently from the scene, showed fans crying for help as others were pushed along by the moving crowd.
Authorities later opened the gates of the stadium to relieve the pressure, allowing ticket holders to enter. Later they closed all gates but one, which was kept open for Omani fans.
They also opened nearby Al Minaa Stadium, which has a 30,000-seat capacity, for fans to watch the game on screens.
Calm soon returned to the area.
“After consultations with concerned parties in sultanate of Oman and to ensure the safety of the Omani citizens, and as a support to the brothers in the Republic of Iraq to make the final match a success, it has been decided to bring back fans who are still at Basra International Airport,” the Oman Football Federation said earlier.
It urged Omani fans still outside the stadium not to enter, but later it allowed fans to head to the stadium after securing their seats.
Meanwhile, Oman Air cancelled at least one flight to Basra.
The deadly incident came hours after the Governor of Basra, Asaad Al Eidani, called on fans not to gather outside the stadium, especially those without tickets.
“This could lead to a stampede and [the] perfect image of our country, hosting this event, could be tarnished only a few hours before the final ceremony,” Mr Al Eidani said late on Wednesday.
“We call upon you to abide to security forces guidelines to ensure the safety of the citizens,” he said, adding that dozens of big screens had been set up around the city for those without tickets.
Iraqi Prime Minister Mohammed Shia Al Sudani has travelled to Basra and met organisers to discuss the incident.
Mr Al Eidani warned fans that the Arab Gulf Cup Football Federation may be forced to move the match to another venue outside Iraq if measures were not taken to stop such incidents, prompting many of them to withdraw.
At the end of the match, Iraqi players hugged each other as they cried.
The fans shouted: “Long live Iraq” and “Oh Iraq, we are ready to sacrifice ourselves for you.”
Outside the stadium and in Baghdad, fireworks lit up the sky while some shot into the air live ammunition despite warning from Iraqi Interior Ministry.
Thousands of fans poured on to the streets after the match, waiving Iraqi flag and dancing. Cars were honking in rhythmic succession as fans cheered: “Go, go the Lions of Mesopotamia.”
“That’s not only a precious triumph, but a precious joy that we need so much and waited for a long time,” Abbas Mohammed said, driving his car in a Baghdad street while hoisting the Iraqi flag.
“It’s a bittersweet achievement,” said Ali Yassir, standing near by.
“Unfortunately, the day started with a tragedy that made all of us sad. That trophy is for those who lost their lives or were wounded while trying to attend the match.
Mr Al Sudani congratulated the Iraq team.
“The cup is Iraqi,” he said. “We are proud of our lions.”
He also thanked those who were behind making the tournament a success.
The eight-team tournament kicked off on January 6, bringing together teams from Iraq, Yemen and the six Gulf Co-operation Council states — the UAE, Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, Bahrain, Oman and Qatar.
Iraq is hosting the biennial regional competition for the first time in more than four decades, after enduring wars, diplomatic isolation and instability after the 2003 US-led invasion that toppled Saddam Hussein.
Iraqis have celebrated the event as a triumph of sports diplomacy, part of continuing efforts to heal a political rift between their country and its Gulf neighbours, and recovery as a footballing nation.
They hoped hosting the event would turn a new page in the country’s troubled history and represent a crucial step towards full national recovery, mainly by attracting sorely needed foreign investment.
Fifa banned Iraq from hosting international matches between 2003 and 2018, because of the poor security situation. It lifted the ban early last year.
Since late Wednesday, fans have flocked to Basra from other parts of Iraq, snarling traffic.
The local government in Basra announced an official holiday on Thursday in an attempt to clear the roads.
The Iraqi Interior Ministry is asking the public to celebrate in a “civilised way” and avoid celebratory gunfire. It has said it will arrest those who shoot into the air.
On Monday, Iraq beat Qatar 2-1 and hours later Oman beat Bahrain 1-0 to set up the final match of the tournament.
In our continuing series on inspiring life stories across continents, we learn what made her leave a career in medical science for a ‘cuisine lab called the kitchen’.
When Lamees Ibrahim left Baghdad in the 1970s, certain parts of the city, not least the riverside strip of fish restaurants along Abu Nawas, became a fixed ideal in her memory.
After an interval of three decades, a return to the flat bank of the Tigris in 2004 was an unexpected low point in a thoroughly disturbing homecoming.
The street once the “pomegranate of Baghdad” was no longer filled with diners being entertained by poets and musicians, engulfed in the aroma of arguably Iraq’s national dish, masgouf.
Instead, Dr Ibrahim stood shaken as she took in a rubble-strewn wasteland populated by a handful of struggling fish sellers.
Yet one sense was still powerfully triggered by the fresh carp grilling over the charred wood.
“It was not in very good shape,” she tells The National. “There were only bits of its old self left, but the smell was still amazing. There are certain scents that you smell and you think, ‘Wow, this is Baghdad.’ It is very, very specific. If you enjoy samak masgouf once, you will never forget it.”
Dr Ibrahim had made a long, hazardous journey from her home in London, where she moved decades earlier: marrying, earning a PhD in Pathology, raising four children.
Her husband was with her as she set out from Jordan in a car just after Fajr prayers that day, to “feel” her land, see her extended family, and show her eldest child, Maysa, her ancestral roots.
But the Baghdad conjured up by the smell of the barbecued fish was gone; the deserted, bombed-out streets were not at all familiar to her. They did, however, bring back one particularly strong recollection from childhood.
Sometimes in the summer months, the young Lamees would gather with her three siblings around their father to be regaled by stories about Iraq.
“I remember one day when he said: ‘Look, we built this country, the Iraqis, and we have to keep doing that. If every one of us contributed their own brick then the wall would go up and up, and we should keep on building.’ I never forgot that,” Dr Ibrahim said, “and I felt that we had to add our little brick to the wall. We had to make Iraq keep going.”
She returned to London on a mission to help rebuild Iraq in some way for the younger generations that would never have a chance to experience what it had been in the golden years.
The need to describe the country’s rich history and accomplishments was urgent, but whatever she put down on paper seemed inextricably tied to cooking. So it was that she came to realise it would be through food that she could preserve connections to things past.
“I wanted to write something, I needed to write, I had to write,” she says. “So I started. Eventually, it became a cookbook with a bit of history and anecdotes about culture, about civilisation.
“My background has nothing to do with cooking. It’s not cuisines of any kind, but I have a passion for Iraq. It’s my motherland, my country.”
When the 21-year-old Lamees had come to London in the early 1970s, it was to pursue a postgraduate medical degree at King’s College and then head back to her beloved Baghdad. Soon after arriving, she married and her life, she says, became busy but limited as she immersed herself in studying and research projects.
“You go to college, you study, you attend lectures, you come home, you open the books, read, read, read, have some dinner, and go back to college,” she says.
“I didn’t know that I was homesick until one day during Ramadan I saw an elderly woman going into King’s College Hospital with her black abaya and veil. I said to her ‘marhaba hajji’ and she was shocked. She hugged me, and I went home, crying all the way.
“I cried because I had a goal. I wanted to get a degree, and the sooner I got it, the sooner I could go back home. Unfortunately, that didn’t happen.”
She was haunted by her homeland, by such memories as the heady perfume of jasmine and the days in her youth when the children would pick the flowers and turn them into long necklaces.
But the months turned into years, and years into decades. At first, returning to Baghdad was difficult as the academic successes mounted and her family grew. It became impossible when Saddam Hussein came to power, with Dr Ibrahim fearing that she would be detained were she to attempt a visit, and never see her three daughters and son again.
Her father died and then, on news of the death of her mother, Dr Ibrahim made the fateful trip when she found a country that was “not what I was expecting, of course. It was demolished, devastated.”
The resulting homage, The Iraqi Cookbook, was published in 2009, a labour of love with the name of each dish painstakingly recorded in Arabic. Samak masgouf, of course, features, and Dr Ibrahim advises in the foreword that all visitors to Iraq should try it in one of the cafes and restaurants on the bank of the Tigris.
“I came back to London with one idea in mind, which is something that as a girl I grew up to learn,” she says. “I must do something for my country. I need to tell my children what my country is like, our history, our culture, our ability to do what we did in the old days.”
She is speaking by Zoom from her home in Richmond-Upon-Thames, her voice at times faltering and cracking with emotion as she talks about dedicating herself to bringing Iraq to the diaspora.
“Iraq to me is very important, very important,” Dr Ibrahim says. “It is in my blood. It’s in my genes. It’s my history.”
The book sold out in the UK and the US, and was reprinted by popular demand. Bit by bit, the time-consuming process of writing and re-writing, working with publishers and photographers, the press interviews had taken Dr Ibrahim away from her career in pathology.
“And I never went back,” she says. “I’m still very interested. I read a lot about Covid. I follow the research, but I’m not going back to that lab. I have a cuisine lab called the kitchen.”
With the emergence of the pandemic, Dr Ibrahim revisited experiments that she had begun as a teenager when she would try to make her mother’s recipes without meat. Sometimes it was successful, she acknowledges, sometimes not.
As a child, though, she had never been as fond of lamb as her siblings were. The family cat adored her, loitering under the table at lunchtimes for the morsels of the daily stew that Lamees would sneak down to her.
During lockdown, her own children became “guinea pigs” for her avant-garde creations as Dr Ibrahim collected together an array of vegan offerings that would appeal to a young audience interested in preserving the planet.
“Dishes don’t need to have meat to have the taste and flavour, for it to smell like an Iraqi dish,” she says. “Iraqi cooking can be vegan, as well as meat and fish-centric.
“If you can preserve the taste of the flavour of the dish, go for it. Many Iraqi dishes are, in fact, vegan but we ate them before ever knowing the word ‘vegan’.”
When one of Dr Ibrahim’s friends called to see how she was faring with the tight coronavirus restrictions in the capital, she told him she had been busily cooking all the recipes to be photographed for The Iraqi Vegan Cookbook. Curious, he wanted to know whether she was including any kubba, knowing that Dr Ibrahim had devoted an entire chapter to its many meaty variants in her first book.
On learning that the new book would contain Kubbet Jeriesh, Kubbet Halab and another recipe that Dr Ibrahim made from lentils, he answered: “Only three?”
His grandmother, he said, had never enjoyed meat in her kubba so the family reinvented the dish to suit her preferences, stuffing the shells with pine nuts, onion, spices and parsley.
“If all these years ago we had vegan Iraqis, we have plenty today,” Dr Ibrahim says, smiling.
The Iraqi Vegan Cookbook had been due out on December 31, but the release has been delayed not least because of the queues of hauliers that built up in Calais and Dover as a result of Brexit and the French shutdown of the border when the new strain of the coronavirus emerged in the UK.
Rescheduled for release at the end of January, Dr Ibrahim hopes that sharing more of the oldest cuisine in the world will counter some of the negative perceptions that persist about Iraq today.
“Iraq is positive,” she says. “Iraq is full of history, full of culture. This is the cradle of civilisation. I don’t like to talk about what’s going on now. I would like to talk about the positivity of all of our achievements.
“I feel nowadays, if I add that little brick, then I have added something which I would be proud of as an Iraqi living in the West. Living in Iraq, we can build from within. We are living in the West – all my children are also living in the West, but we add our bricks from our side, from outside the country.”
Dr Ibrahim is modest about her contribution to the wall that her father told her about all those years ago, hesitating to use the word achievement. If her writing can be described as such, she says, she wants to make clear that it was never about her. It was always for Iraq.
Dr Lamees Ibrahim has dedicated herself to bringing the country of her birth to the diaspora: ‘Iraq is very important to me. It is in my blood. It is in my genes. It is my history,’ she says. Courtesy of The Mosaic RoomsThe homage to Dr Ibrahim’s homeland, ‘The Iraqi Cookbook’, was published in 2009, a labour of love with the name of each dish painstakingly recorded in Arabic. Courtesy Lamees Ibrahim
The artist’s latest exhibition of 50 works is the culmination of a lifetime spent studying ancient script.
One day in 1984, in Basra, Iraq, an art teacher taught his students calligraphy. He drew four letters on the blackboard in Ruqʿah script, a plain style often used for signage.
As the teacher drew the letters alif, bah, jim, dal, Wissam Shawkat, then aged 10, watched absolutely entranced.
“Seeing that Arabic letters can take that form was fascinating for me,” Shawkat tells The National at the Mestaria Gallery in Alserkal Avenue — where his latest calligraphy exhibition, Letters of Love II, is running until November 30. “I was really intrigued by this.”
Today, Shawkat is an international leading authority on calligraphy, a self-taught master who pioneered his own technique known as “calligraforms.”
On the eve of his solo exhibition, Shawkat is surrounded by 50 original artworks all centred on the theme of love. He stands in the middle, surrounded by a landscape of letters, composed and morphed by a myriad styles that push the boundaries of traditional calligraphy practices. The result is a delicate balance of ancient forms and modern sensibilities.
“Letters by themselves are like an abstract shape,” he says.
“If you take any letter in Arabic or in English, any part of that letter, you will end up with an abstraction. We give it sound or when it’s merged with another letter, we give it meaning. But in reality, it’s a form, a beautiful form.”
As a teenager, due to the sanctions imposed on Iraq following the Gulf War, Shawkat’s resources were limited. Despite this stark reality, the artist took what summer courses were available, worked in sign-making shops and practised with different mediums and brushes. He drew comics, decorated skateboards, created sketches for friends, and took any chance available to practice mark-making and the art of calligraphy.
“If you spend years writing and perfecting this form, it’s definitely something you’ll fall in love with,” Shawkat says.
“After all these years, I arrived at this point where I love the abstract form of the letters and I think that’s why I’m still making it.”
Letters of Love II was launched on November 11, a significant date for Shawkat. Not only did he leave Iraq on the same date in 2002, but 11 years ago, his solo exhibition, Letters of Love, took place in New York to major critical success.
Shawkat’s new exhibition is an extension of the technical ideas he first experimented with in the New York show, an homage to his personal milestones and, of course, a celebration of love.
“For me, love is a universal concept,” Shawkat says.
“Plus, I wanted to take calligraphy away from always being associated with religion. Historians from the West call it Islamic calligraphy, but it’s not true. The art of calligraphy is about the language, it’s not the religion.”
Shawkat took the Arabic word for love, “hub”, and some of its variations such as “mahaba”, meaning to have love for something, “‘ishq”, to long for something, and “gharam”, meaning desire, and reconstructed them — experimenting with the inner and outer forms of the letters and the composition of the words; blocking parts of their shape, opening up others; extending and bending; changing their silhouettes.
The range of forms and shapes he created within each frame are meticulously composed. They exist in relation to the frames and the spaces they occupy, possessing a uniquely stylised sense of harmony fuelled by Shawkat’s departure from the traditional “rules” of calligraphy.
Even the notion of freedom is expressed uniquely within the works. Free of the cliche of words bursting out of their frame or paint spilling out on to the physical space, freedom is organic and planned in Shawkat’s work. It teases and pushes the idea of Arabic letter forms and calligraphy into new spaces.
“I want to show something aesthetically beautiful,” Shawkat says. “When I’m sketching or putting together the work, everything I do is first in black and white. Colour comes as a second thing, I work with it later.”
It’s this focus on form and composition that gives the varied works an overall sense of grounded weight, rooted and connected to each other through a slow gravitational force, as opposed to an intertwined sense of drama.
Shawkat achieves this thorough planning, like an architect of words, an engineer of letters.
“When I started planning for this show, I went back and opened my old files from the New York show,” Shawkat says.
“I found some ideas that were interesting but weren’t refined yet. I took some of them and made them work, and now they are pieces in this show. It’s always a process, it’s progress. Sometimes it fails and sometimes it works.”
Shawkat’s work reveals not only an artist who has a significant understanding of the forms and symbolism of letters and language, but one with technical knowledge and prowess.
All the paper in the show is handmade, the ink made from personalised pigment colours. Each piece is a juxtaposition of these traditional materials with Shawkat’s forward-thinking experimentation in calligraphy.
It’s also these part-conscious, part-instinctive decisions that make Shawkat’s work timeless and appealing to an international audience, many of whom don’t speak or can’t read Arabic.
“I think people who don’t know Arabic fall in love with calligraphy for the same reason I first did in class,” Shawkat says.
“It’s because they enjoy the form. They look at them as beautiful abstract shapes. As simple as that.”
Letters of Love II will be on show at the Mestaria Gallery in Alserkal Avenue
Wissam Shawkat’s solo exhibition Letters of Love II is on show at Mestaria Gallery in Alserkal Avenue until November 30. All Photos: Antonie Robertson/The National
The Iraqi researcher Mootaz Salman has won the “Young Scientist Lectureship Award” for research that involved putting human brain tissue on a microchip and using innovative technology to treat neurodegenerative diseases.
Salman started his academic career at the University of Mosul, where he earned a Bachelor of Pharmacy with Honours, and is now is a senior researcher and lecturer in the department of physiology, anatomy and genetics at the University of Oxford.
He spoke to Al-Fanar Media about his work, which has taken nearly ten years of research, and the experiences that led him to his current post.
The first researcher in Britain to win the award, Salman said the support he received from universities where he had worked in the United States and the United Kingdom had been a key factor.
“I deeply believe that the more a person works, the more fortunate he is,” Salman said.
“From the very beginning, I was aware of the challenges ahead, the double effort I had to make, as an academic from a conflict country, and the responsibility I had to convey a different image of my country and to help humanity provide solutions to brain diseases and stroke, which have risen dramatically.”
Human Brain Tissue on a Microchip
The International Society for Neurochemistry and the and Asian-Pacific Society for Neurochemistry will present Salman with the award in September in Honolulu, Hawaii.
Salman led a research team that used a human brain “microvessel on a chip” to study what happens when drugs cross from the bloodstream into the brain.
The research was part of his ongoing work to understand the cellular physiology of the blood-brain barrier and exploit its mechanisms to improve the effectiveness of therapeutic treatments of neurological diseases such as Alzheimer’s disease, multiple sclerosis, and Parkinson’s disease.
The device the researchers designed for the study allowed them to track the movement of tiny molecular sizes across the blood-brain barrier. Their device is ideal for studies involving biotherapies, as well as being able to employ it in high-resolution imaging methods, such as transmission electron microscopy, Salman said.
Academic Journey
Before moving to the University of Oxford two years ago as an assistant professor and lecturer at Wolfson College, Salman was a postdoctoral fellow at Harvard Medical School and Boston Children’s Hospital in the United States.
Before that, he earned a master’s degree and a Ph.D. from Sheffield Hallam University, in the United Kingdom.
During his doctoral studies, he discovered a new pharmacological framework for developing drugs to treat patients with brain tumours resulting from accidents and strokes.
This research focused on water receptors in the brain. Salman described it as a turning point that helped him recognise the molecular mechanics of brain diseases and think of ways to provide therapeutic solutions rather than surgery, which has major risks and complications.
He said the research led him to discover how cells develop brain tumours and the mechanics that cause these tumours and strokes at the molecular level.
A World Health Organization report says that about 75 million people in the world suffer from strokes annually. About five million of them die and another five million suffer permanent disability.
Salman says the incidence of brain disease in the Arab world is rising because of the dietary and living patterns of the majority of the population, the intake of fats and sugars at “unreasonable” rates, the lack of physical activity, and the pressures of daily life.
Difficulty of Research in Arab Countries
After graduating from the University of Mosul, Salman worked as a teaching assistant in the university’s Faculty of Pharmacy for about two years and experienced firsthand the difficulties of research in the Arab world. He said there was no financial support for conducting research, research laboratories were limited, and the teaching and administrative burdens on professors usually led them to abandon research.
Salman said scientific research should be considered “an investment,” not a “random academic luxury.” Such work only flourishes in a suitable environment where there is stability and financial support, he said.
He believes the political unrest Iraq has experienced in recent years has affected teaching in universities and Iraqi researchers’ chances for professional development. He described government support for Iraqi universities as “very limited” and said most research initiatives were “individual and random” and did not amount to regular institutional work.
A Call for Greater Investment in Research
Salman said Arab countries needed to increase investment in scientific research at the national level and benefit from the experience of wealthy Gulf countries that have attracted foreign and Arab professors from major European and American universities to establish research centres where young researchers can train.
He said he had tried to open communication channels between the University of Oxford and Iraqi universities to reach agreements for cooperation and scientific research, which could provide research fellowships for Iraqi researchers at British universities.
This year, the University of Mosul signed a cooperation agreement with Oxford on a project that uses remote sensing and photographic information systems to study antiquities. The work would preserve the cultural heritage of Nineveh Governorate and other Iraqi provinces, and attract Ph.D. students to training courses at British universities.
Salman said: “These efforts give me a high sense of pride and a greater incentive for hard work and research that benefits all humanity. I feel a sense of responsibility and love towards my country, my city and my mother university, which helped me and paved the way for me at the beginning of my academic journey.”
Mootaz Salman, an Iraqi scientist at the University of Oxford, has won the “Young Scientist Lectureship Award” for his use of innovative technology to treat neurological diseases. (Photo: Mootaz Salman).
Dating back to the early middle ages, this Iraqi cemetery holds the remains of kings, dignitaries, scholars, and soldiers alike.
Wadi Al-Salam, which means ‘Valley of Peace’ in Arabic, is a necropolis in which every Shiite Muslim hopes to be buried some day, in the belief that it is these burial grounds that will hold eternal peace for them.
Located in the Iraqi city of Najaf, Wadi Al-Salam is a cemetery that dates back to the early middle ages, hosting the remains of kings, dignitaries, scholars, and soldiers alike.
Every year, an estimated 50,000 Shiite Muslims are buried in this hallowed ground. The cemetery stretches across 1500 acres, taking up almost 13% of the city, and allegedly holds over six million bodies. The necropolis, however, isn’t just a morbidly beautiful burial ground. Rather, each tombstone contains a name and an engraving that paints a vivid timeline of Iraq’s (arguably tragic) history, with a hyperfocus on internal disputes, natural disasters, and wars.
In 1981, Rahim Jabr, an Iraqi foot soldier, was martyred in the eight-year war with Iran. 25 years later, his brother, Naeem Jabr, was a casualty of the sectarian civil war that killed hundreds in Baghdad in 2006. The siblings are buried next to each other, united in the necropolis that holds many others whose stories are eternally intertwined with that of the bloody history of this country.
The 2003 invasion of Iraq by the United States and its subsequent conflicts alone led to the graveyard expanding by over 40% (7.5 square kilometres) to contain the bodies of the martyred Shiites.
Wadi Al-Salam has been the responsibility of a single Shiite family for over three centuries, and the Abu Seiba’s stand testament to the cruelty of war, having carried hundreds of thousands of bodies belonging to their brethren into the ground.
Wadi Al-Salam is considered a UNESCO World Heritage site and has been since 2011, as the cemetery stands witness to thousands of years of history, religious tradition and dedication by Shiite Muslims.
The Iraqi scholar Suhad Yasin has waged a long battle against financial and administrative obstacles to continue her work on purifying polluted water.
Her graduate studies started later than most and became a long journey over 13 years of dropping out and restarting, but she persevered. Two years ago, the University of Duhok awarded her a doctorate in polymer chemistry.
Now Yasin works from an independent laboratory she set up at the University of Duhok, where she and her students use cheap, available materials to treat polluted water.
Iraq, like many Arab countries, suffers from water scarcity and stress. One study predicts the Tigris and Euphrates rivers will dry up completely by 2040.
Apart from the scarcity issue, some Iraqi waterways also face problems with contamination by heavy metals like aluminum, cadmium and chromium, adding urgency to research like Yasin’s.
An Interrupted Academic Journey
In an interview with Al-Fanar Media, Yasin described her career in industry and academe.
After obtaining her bachelor’s degree in chemistry at the University of Mosul in 1993, she joined a laboratory in a local pharmaceutical factory, eventually becoming production manager.
As violence increased in Mosul over the next decade, however, Yasin was forced to return to her family’s home city of Duhok in 2006. She got an administrative job at the Ministry of Industry of the Kurdistan Region of Iraq.
But she did not find administrative work satisfying, Yasin said, so she took a competitive exam to study for a master’s degree at the University of Duhok.
By then a wife and mother, Yasin faced challenges in studying at the University of Duhok, both with learning in English and in overcoming the skepticism of some academics. Her thesis supervisor questioned her ability to complete the work. “He told me, ‘I regret being involved in the supervision of your thesis. It will be difficult for you to complete your studies at your age because of your family responsibilities.’”
But Yasin said his words only increased her motivation. “I needed to prove to my supervisor and myself that I was not a problem, but an energetic researcher who had missed an opportunity,” she said.
Yasin got her master’s degree with excellence in 2009 with a thesis on removing chromium from water using modified pomegranate peel .
Starting from Scratch on a Ph.D.
She then applied to transfer from her job at the ministry to work as an assistant teacher in the chemistry department of the University of Duhok’s Faculty of Science.
She taught at the University of Duhok for six years but was not given an opportunity to pursue a Ph.D. because the university lacked facilities and funds for research in her specialisation. Throughout this time, she continued her research on purifying polluted water.
In 2015, the university offered her an opportunity to pursue a doctorate and she took it. There was considerable opposition to her studying for a Ph.D. at the age of 50, but she managed to convince the head of the department.
Based on the advice of her master’s supervisor, who had changed his mind about her ability, she chose nanofiber technology as the subject of her doctorate. Her new supervisor initially opposed the idea, saying the university could not afford the materials required for research on this topic. But he finally relented when she persisted.
Yasin said she had nothing but the lab walls when she started her doctoral research: no equipment, devices, or “cofactors”, molecular compounds needed in certain chemical reactions. “The resources were almost zero,” she said. “I had to buy everything myself and start from scratch.”
Lining up Support
Yasin contacted professors and scholars from various Arab countries to ask for help. By chance, she heard of a physics professor at the University of Basrah who had designed a device that would help her with her research. “I contacted the professor at the University of Basrah immediately and she agreed to help me,” Yasin said.
Yasin then had to convince her dean at the University of Duhok to manufacture a similar device so she could work. He agreed, but she still needed funding for her research.
She wrote to several international organisations asking for financial support and eventually received a three-year grant of about $207,000 from the National Academy of Sciences in the United States, in 2018. She used the money to establish an independent laboratory at the University of Duhok to conduct her research on using nanomaterials to treat water.
Yasin acknowledges that funding scientific research is a general problem in Arab countries, but she insists that scholars themselves have a duty to find funding for their research.
“We must not stand idly by. I work day and night to get new financial support,” she said. “With each refusal, I realise that I have to work more.”
Suhad Yasin, of the University of Duhok, overcame many obstacles during 13 years of interrupted graduate study to continue her research on purifying polluted water. (Photo courtesy of Suhad Yasin)
Arabic Calligraphy, the art of creating decorative handwriting or lettering, is one of the oldest art forms from the Arab region; one that has not only thrived with time but also evolved into a unique form of expression. It survived through several tumultuous periods that threatened its existence, from civil wars to an invasion by the Mongol Empire that destroyed Baghdad.
Even though the writing wasn’t as focused on in the past, with many Arabs preferring to memorize poetry and other forms of text and pass them down verbally, that changed significantly later. Calligraphy would flourish to include the preservation of the Quran, adorn mosques as well as the palaces of kings, and by royal scribes when writing decrees, among other things.
In celebration of World Calligraphy Day, we decided to dive into the past and look back at some of the most well-known and prominent calligraphers from the Arab world.
Ibn Muqla
One of the biggest names in developing and improving Arabic calligraphy, born in 885 AD in Baghdad, Iraq, during the Abbasid Caliphate, he started out as a tax collector before rising through the ranks and becoming the Caliph’s Vizier three different times.
At this time, the Kufi style dominated the calligraphy scene, but Ibn Muqla invented new art styles that superseded the previous ones. Ibn Muqla was the one who invented the Thuluth and Al-Mansoub styles, as well as the foundations and rules for others, such as Naskh. The Naskh and Thuluth got further development throughout the centuries that followed, and calligraphers still use them today.
While the Kufic style was rigid in its overall design, Naskh had a more cursive structure but wasn’t as popular and as used at the time, Ibn Muqla changed that by improving on it and using it in official decrees, and private correspondence.
Ibn Muqla’s Thuluth style was new with its letters having long vertical lines with broad spacing. Its name translates to “one-third”, in reference to the maximum height for the letters on the same line must not exceed one-third of the ‘alif.
As for the Al-Mansoubstyle, it mainly focused on three measurements: the size of the period meaning the “Noqta”, the circle with a diameter equal to the height of the alif (the first letter in the Arabic language) and, and the height of the alif.
Little is known when exactly Ibn Al-Bawwab was born. However, we know of his existence and his body of work thanks to the survival of many of his manuscripts, Qurans, and texts referring to him by name.
With his name literally translating to “son of the doorman,” he didn’t grow up in a wealthy family and had to work to make a name for himself. He did so by learning about law and theology and working in several professions, such as a home decorator. However, he would later settle on working in book illumination and calligraphy.
Over years of hard work, he became renowned as a master calligrapher; fluent in six different styles in the field, perfecting the Al-Mansoub style and developing the Reyhani, Naskh, Tawqi, and Muhaqaq styles significantly.
Housed at the Chester Beatty Library in Dublin, Ireland, is the sole surviving Qur’an penned by Ibn al-Bawwab gifted to the country by Ottoman Sultan Selim I.
Originally from Syria, Mohammad Hosni Al-Baba was born in 1894 and is considered one of the last classical calligraphers. Al-Baba received his initial formal training with the Turkish master, Istanbul-based Yousef Rasa, who had renovated the Umayyad Mosque in Damascus, Syria. Al-Baba would later study under another renowned calligrapher, Mehmed Showki Afendi, author of the work “The Thuluth & Naskh Mashqs.”
He would later travel to Cairo, Egypt, becoming one of the leaders in Islamic and Arabic calligraphy, turning his home into a hub for artists, calligraphers, and poets. Al-Baba would be famous for improvements to the lettering in the Thuluth style, the linear structure of Arabic script, and was appointed by King Farouk as the first professor to be a master at the Royal Institute of Calligraphy.
His children would continue his legacy but in different fields since many grew up surrounded by artists when they visited Al-Baba’s home. The most famous of his children are actress Soad Hosni, dubbed “Cinderella of Egyptian Cinema,” and Najat Al Saghira, who became an actress and singer.
Born in 1944, Iraqi painter and calligrapher Hassan Massoudy continues to be one of the biggest inspirations for many modern artists today. French writer Michel Tournier even considered him as the “greatest living calligrapher” in 1989.
Massoudy grew up in Baghdad, Iraq, until 1969, when he fled to Paris, France, entering the École des Beaux-Arts, where he studied figurative painting. At the time, he looked for a job to pay for his studying, finally finding one as a calligrapher in Arabic magazines, writing their headlines.
While he wasn’t famous for a traditional calligraphy style, his distinct and elaborate designs made him stand out among the rest of the artists of his time. Massoudy would delve into the world of theater, collaborating with artists and choreographers, creating different productions focusing on the harmony of dance, calligraphy, and dance routines.
Studying abroad but seeking inspiration from his traditional roots, Tunisian artist and calligrapher Nja Mahdaoui invented the world of Arabic calligraphy as a graphic style, creating what was called “Calligrams.”
Born in 1937 in Tunis, Tunisia, he first started learning art history and painting at the Carthage National Museum. He later traveled to Rome, Italy, where he continued to study painting and learned more about philosophy at the Santa Andrea Academy. He also moved to Paris, France, where he went to the Cité Internationale des Arts and École du Louvre before returning to his home country in 1977.
His calligraphic style focuses mainly on the designs he creates as a whole rather than the composition of words since his “calligrams” resemble Arabic letters but have no literal meaning, leading to many naming him the “inventor of abstract calligraphy.” People can see Mahadaoui’s work on several materials used as a canvas, including jewelry, drums, leather, paintings, walls, glass, and so much more.
A UNESCO Crafts Prize laureate, Mahdaoui, graced the Facebook campus in 2018 by painting one of their halls using Arabic calligraphy in his unique style as part of the “FB AIR program,” turning their hall into a vividly colorful masterpiece.
Egyptian artist and calligrapher Ahmed Mustafa was born in 1943 in Alexandria, Egypt, graduating from the Faculty of Fine Arts at Alexandria University in 1966 before traveling to the UK on a scholarship to the Central School of Art and Design in London, England, where he earned his Ph.D. in 1989.
Inspired by his Islamic roots, his calligraphic works mainly focused on quotes from the Quran, among other sources. Working on several materials as his canvas, Mustafa has designs on glass and carpets, among others.
Mustafa also set up the Fe-Noon Ahmed Moustafa Research Centre for Arab Art and Design in London in 1983. He lectures and creates workshops globally as well as does commissions, one of which was presented by Queen Elizabeth II to Pakistan for the country’s fiftieth anniversary in 1997.
The following year, the Vatican invited him to do an exhibition at the Pontifical Gregorian University in Rome, Italy. World media at the time announced it as the first achievement of its kind in the history of Muslim-Christian relations.
Former hair-transplant specialist urges Iraqi women to ‘keep going until all your dreams are met’.
Balsam Hussein, a 26-year-old TV presenter and former hair-transplant specialist, has been crowned Miss Iraq 2022 at a beauty contest held in Erbil, capital of the northern Kurdish region.
Ms Hussein was among 19 contestants from across the country who were vying for the title and a chance to represent Iraq at the Miss World and Miss Universe events.
“I am highly motivated to participate in Miss World and Miss Universe pageants soon,” she said.
Ms Hussein’s win raises her public profile even higher, after starting work in April as host of a morning TV show for a private channel in Baghdad.
Speaking to The National, she said she had been hesitant to take part in the competition but decided to go ahead at the last minute after full support from her family and close friends, as well as from her followers on social media.
“My family have been happy and proud of me throughout my life, but they became happier and prouder when they watched me on TV being crowned Miss Iraq 2022,” she said. “I felt sorry that they were not able to come from Baghdad to Erbil as they were ill, but I never felt alone.”
Ms Hussein represented the Al Karakh district of Baghdad, the Iraqi capital where she was born and raised. She worked there as a hair-transplant specialist after training in Turkey before starting her TV job — something she said she had always dreamt of doing.
“I have a dream to improve the media and journalism field in Iraq, and of course, being a winner of Miss Iraq will help me to be closer to achieving that dream,” she said.
For Iraqis faced with uncertainty and instability as political groups squabble over forming a new government nearly 10 months after elections, the Miss Iraq pageant offered a window of hope for the future.
Ayman Hussein, 26, a resident of the southern province of Basra, said Ms Hussein’s triumph was “a win for Iraq and Iraqis”.
“It is a clear message that, in spite of political chaos, Iraq is able to hold such events,” he said. “Whenever there is war, there is life — this is our interpretation of life.”
Mr Hussein said he hoped to see Iraqi women take their rightful place in society. “Iraqi women experience hardship their entire life; it is the time to say ‘I am here’.”
Launched in 1947, the Miss Iraq contest was suspended for more than four decades in 1973 because of political upheaval and wars, and resumed only in 2015.
“From today, I represent all of Iraq,” Ms Hussein said. “I would like to send a message to all Iraqi women: do not give up, fight to get your goals, be patient. You have faced wars and difficulties; do not make the harsh conditions a rock in your path — destroy it and keep going until all your dreams are met.”
The judges declared Sarah Saad, from Baghdad’s Al Rusafa district, as the first runner-up, and Jihan Majid, representing Wasit, as second runner-up. Hind Akram, representing the Baghdad Belt, was the third runner-up, followed by Sarah Khaled from Mosul.
Kareem Rasheed, executive director of the Miss Iraq organisation, said: “Iraq is thirsty for such events like Miss Iraq. Year after year, we will do our best to develop it and make it reach people around the Arab world.
“The contestants represent about 90 per cent of Iraq — we covered the regions of south, middle Euphrates, west and north.
“This year, we decided to rate beauty at 50 per cent and inner essence, such as culture, education and so on, also at 50 per cent, while in years past we were focusing on beauty over essence.
“All women are beautiful and each one has a unique trait that makes her different from others.”
source/content: thenationalnews.com
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Balsam Hussein smiles after being crowned Miss Iraq 2022 in a pageant held in Erbil. Azhar Al-Rubaie for The National
The Welsh-Iraqi artist will represent the country’s diverse cultures and languages.
Wales has named Hanan Issa as its fifth national poet, making her the first Muslim to hold the title.
The Welsh-Iraqi poet, filmmaker and artist will serve a three-year term, representing the country’s diverse cultures and languages and acting as an ambassador for the people of Wales.
Her recent works include her poetry collection My Body Can House Two Hearts, published in 2019, and her contributions to Welsh (Plural): Essays on the Future of Wales and The Mab.
Issa grew up in Cardiff surrounded by different languages, including Arabic, which was spoken by her Iraqi parents. She described the role as an “incredibly positive step” and said it was “exciting to think that Wales is taking the lead on this aspect of representation”.
“Poetry exists in the bones of this country. I want people to recognise Wales as a country bursting with creativity; a land of poets and singers with so much to offer the arts,” she said.
“I’d like to continue the great work of my predecessors in promoting Wales, Welshness, and the Welsh language outside of its borders.
“More than anything, I want to capture the interest and inspiration of the public to see themselves in Welsh poetry and encourage a much more open sense of what Welshness is.”
Ashok Ahir, who led the selection panel for the National Poet of Wales, said: “This is a hugely exciting appointment. Hanan’s is a cross-community voice that speaks to every part of the country. She will be a great ambassador for a culturally diverse and outward-looking nation.”
Issa said she hopes that her appointment will allow women from all walks of life, but especially Muslim women, to see her success and think “that’s a thing that’s achievable for me”.
