[Today marks the 78th anniversary of the founding of The Iraqi Communist Party (ICP). Its recent history, especially after the 2003 invasion and occupation, notwithstanding, the ICP has a remarkable history of struggling for justice and freedom beginning in the early decades of the 20th century. It was one of the most powerful and popular communist parties in the region. Thousands of its members gave their lives fighting against tyranny, especially under the first and second Ba`th regimes. Muzaffar al-Nawwab (1934-), one of Iraq’s greatest poets, was a member of the ICP and was imprisoned, like many others, following the 1963 Ba`th coup. One of the methods used by the regime to break the resolve of prisoners was to force as many of them as possible to publicly disavow their political beliefs and principles in exchange for release. This practice goes back to the pre-Republican period in Iraq when political prisoners would disavow their political beliefs and declare their allegiance to their king and country. Their disavowals were published in newspapers. In 1964, al-Nawwab composed “al-Bara’a” (Disavowal) to strengthen the resolve of his comrades in prison and help them withstand physical and psychological torture. It was very effective at the time and turned the tide in terms of the numbers of those succumbing to torture. The poem is in the Iraqi spoken dialect and it is one of the most memorable and famous poems in Iraqi collective memory. It is in two parts, the first of which enacts a mother’s visit to prison and voices her pleas to her son to stay strong and steadfast. The second part features a sister of a prisoner who has already declared his “disavowal.” She chastises her brother for dishonoring the family and severs all bonds with him. The first part of the poem, translated below, is much more famous and has become an independent poem. You can listen to al-Nawwab reciting the poem in his unique style here and here. This translation is dedicated to the memory Iraqi communists who gave their lives for freedom and justice.]

 

The Disavowal 

Muzaffar al-Nawwab

 

My son, when your rib supported mine

you restored it and set it straight

My son, take me to the feast in your arms

Count the white hairs I reaped from your life

My son, blindness has spilled into my eyes

I came with my heart’s eye

Crawling on the path you tread

My son, carrying the reed basket

reminds my shoulders of when you played on them

For a year your hands were two flowers on my head

Through you I sang to the joy of a life I`d forgotten

Seeing you brings back pure water to my body

Makes me live again when am dead

The white in your eyes is the milk of my breast

The black the night I spent crying by your cradle

I told your son who’s just started playing in his cradle:

Don’t fear being an orphan, grandson

He who has no father, the party will be his father

and his home

I told him: Oh son, my son

When you grow older you`ll find your father’s belt

which never let me down

You will find letters from him that I will hide

Right next to my rib until I die

Proud of the secret I guarded

O pillar of my house, moon of my night

spring of my white hair and the life I have reaped

I came to shake you, my pillar

In case time has weakened a bone in you

Making you vulnerable to meekness or betrayal

Compromising your wound and abandoning it

My son, let the wound gush, let it bleed and pour, my son

My son, a wound that refuses a bandage

Is a rebels’ flag fluttering high

My son, I’d rather breastfeed a dog than

have a son throw me the crumb of disavowal

Let mange eat my bones and flesh

Let my eyes die before I see such disgrace

My son, these are days where drought reigns 

Days of torment and trial 

My son, don’t defile our honor

My son, disavowal will forever be foul

Do you know that with each disavowal

Every martyr is exhumed and buried again

Put your hands on my hoary head

Swear by every drop of my pure milk 

By my lost eyesight and tell me:

No one will speak ill of me

You are my mother and this is my party

My father’s pride that never let me down

Nor will I ever let it down

Tell me: I will never destroy a party

I built with my own hands

 

[Translated from the Arabic by Sinan Antoon]