In the first week of my first every journey to Baghdad, I went to the local market to do some grocery shopping with my cousin Amina. I’ve been used to big grocery stores with beautifully packaged goods my whole life, so I wanted to see how Iraqi’s grocery shop. This was no Safeway, but I loved it. 

‘How much are the bananas?’ Amina asked one of the fruit vendors. ‘250 (dinars)’ he replied. ‘That’s too much, give it to me for 200’ she responded. ‘No, No, No what are you talking about, 250 I said’ he insisted. I told her to just buy the damn banana’s, I wasn’t used to this ongoing haggling, I was getting tired cause I was carrying around a large bottle of Pepsi - or Bibsi as they like to call it in Iraq. She told me to not to intervene. He ended up selling her the banana’s for 200 dinars. ‘Iman, you don’t understand, this is how we shop here, we don’t just accept the price that they say, they will always give you a better deal if you just annoy them enough’ she told me on the way out of the market.

As we stopped to cross the street, I turned to take a good look at Amina. I wanted to remember this. I wanted to walk the walk that Amina takes every day and try to take pleasure – like she did - in this simple trip. It basically was the only contact with the outside world that Amina ever really had. So I did. I paid attention to every fine detail, every crack in the pavement, every tired face surrounding me. I tried to remember the little children on the street running around playing, and then I noticed a little boy with what seemed to me to be a wooden shopping cart. He came running and calling ‘Amina…..Aminaaaa, wait for me’. I asked her what was going on; she told me that it’s Ahmed.

Ahmed is the little eight year old boy that helps her with the shopping load when she goes to the market. I noticed a few boys in the market carrying these wooden shopping carts, but I guess Amina was Ahmed’s exclusive customer. As he got closer I could see his beautiful brown eyes and his striking features. I couldn’t help notice the huge hole in his tattered and filthy t-shirt. He didn’t waste a second, he grabbed the plastic bags in Amina’s hands and put them in the cart, and then he came towards me to grab the Pepsi bottle that I was carrying. I got a little worried considering the bottle was a lot larger than little Ahmed. But he continued and carried the bottle into the cart, and started to pull the cart towards the direction of Amina’s house.

I was now focusing on Ahmed, not the palm trees, or the other children in the street. I just couldn’t take my eyes off this tiny boy with his dusty hair and soiled feet. We walked a few minutes and we passed one of the huge garbage dumps on the street. Baghdad is full of garbage dumps. I guess the coalition forces and Iraqi governing council forgot about cleaning residential neighborhoods. This is garbage that has been piled up for months. Rats, snakes and other filthy creatures now live comfortably in these garbage dwellings. Amina pointed out to me that at this particular garbage dump lived Ahmed’s family. I couldn’t really process what Amina was saying. I first looked to see if there was some sort of a home near the garbage dump, but there wasn’t, I did however notice an older woman, in a black abaya sitting in the middle and on top of this garbage dump. She looked like she was possibly cooking up a meal of some sort. I couldn’t see her face, I then saw a little girl, maybe two years old running around playing with the garbage.

I instantly nudged Amina. ‘Amina, who’s that little girl?’, ‘that’s his little sister’ she replied. I turned away, and couldn’t focus on anything anymore. I felt numb. What did she mean that was his house, do they sleep and eat there? How? I turned to Amina again. ‘What do u mean it’s their house, do they live there?’ ‘Yes’ she responded casually.

We walked on towards my Aunts house. We arrived and Ahmed dropped us off at the door, and helped with the unpacking of the groceries. I reached into my pocket and gave him whatever I found. He looked up at me, with a slightly excited demeanor and said ‘Shukran Khala’. I still will never forget him. This young beautiful boy, who lives in a garbage dump. Literally. His whole future ahead of him doesn’t look so bright to most people, but he still has the courage to walk around with a smile. Happy to be carrying people’s groceries.

I saw Ahmed a few times after our first meeting, and always a beautiful smile on his face. I pray that Ahmed and his family are in good health and in good spirits.