Ra'ed

Ra’ed, an honorary clown, is on the national basketball team, when he talks about basketball he’s a man possessed, bouncing the barely inflated ball with his right hand, he maintains eye contact the whole time.

Bounce. Bounce. Bounce.

“Don’t look at the ball”.

Bounce. Bounce. Bounce.

“You must feel the ball”

Bounce. Bounce. Bounce.

“Keep contact with the ball the whole time.”

Bounce. Bounce. Bounce.

The ball starts travelling around his body, between his legs, around behind him, his eyes never leave yours, he mesmerises you until you believe that you too can bounce a ball with such grace.

A few days ago he came around to the flat, a massive smile on his face as he pulled a gold medal on a purple ribbon from his pocket. “We won the championship”. The medal is cheap and tacky, fake gold with a sticker on one side, its meaning is anything but that. Basketball is Ra’ed’s life, his desire, his one hope in a country where so many hopes are dashed and unfulfilled. He dreams of becoming a coach, of setting up a basketball school and offering the hope he has instilled in him to children traumatised by so much pain and suffering.

This morning Ra’ed came to our flat, he’s not been here for a few days, the holidays and situation making travel across Baghdad hard. The news is bad. When he went to his music shop a couple of days ago someone had left him a letter, threatening to kill him for working with internationals.