Nine Parts of Desire: Iraqi Women Tell their Stories

We recently saw a production of the play "Nine Parts of Desire", a powerful and moving play based on the stories of Iraqi women between the first Gulf war and into the second. The play by Heather Raffo is not to be confused with the book of the same name by Geraldine Brooks, a non-fiction examination of the life of Muslim women. Raffo, American-born to an Iraqi father and American mother, based her play on her interviews of Iraqi women between 1993 and 2003.

In the play, nine Iraqi women of various backgrounds, speak directly to the audience, as if talking to the playwright, giving us glimpses of their lives. There is the leftist exile from the 1960s living in London, the famous artist in bed (literally) with the Baathist regime and the mother who lost her children in the Amiriyya bombshelter as well as others. The collective stories weave a complex and multi layered tapestry of the life of these women, of Iraq itself. The stories touch on all aspects of life in that decade of Iraq's history, stories that continue to relevant today as the epic tragedy that Iraq is living continues with no end in sight. The playwright does not take sides but empathetically gives a voice to women whose voices are seldom heard. We hear about Saddam's legendary brutality, the Western embargo that impoverished the people and made the regime stronger, the effects of depleted uranium munitions left behind by the American military, and the devastating effects of the first into the second Gulf wars. These events form the backdrop of these women's personal stories, their longing for normalcy and for peace. They also long for freedom, not only from the violence around them but from the restrictive roles they are relegated too in their society. Raffo's nuanced portrayal of her subjects underscores a sensibility of one who clearly understands the culture. I doubt that another Western playwright, without Iraqi or Arab roots, would have succeeded in the portrayal of these women as well as Raffo did.

Perhaps the most interesting of the women is Layal, based on the famous Iraqi artist, Layla al-Attar who died in 1993 when an American tomahawk missile slammed into her house. Raffo never met Layla al-Attar as she was killed shortly before she arrived to Iraq. The playwright portrays her as a cynical survivor, one who readily exchanged sexual favors with influencial members of the regime in return for protection and advancement. She is a complex and conflicted character and the least sympathetic of the nine women. Whether this is an accurate portrayal of Layla al-Attar or not, I cannot say. I could not find much detail about her online. She was, though, by all accounts, an accomplished and important artist. The painting of the nude hugging a tree, titled "savagery" is alluded to several times in the play.

The stories of these women are absorbing and emotionally wrenching even for those not familiar with Middle Eastern culture. There was barely a dry eye in the house by the end of the play. My wife sobbed at one point as Um-Ghada (mother of tomorrow) describes losing all her children in the American bombing of the the Al-Amiriyya bombshelter. For me and my wife, many of the stories resonated with our own experience: the fear and horror of war, the feeling of longing for home and the guilt of watching from the safety of a distant continent as your home and family are threatened by violence and strife.