The Show Goes On For Iraqi Conductor

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The Show Goes On For Iraqi Conductor

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September 11, 2008

Karim Wasfi, director and co-conductor of the Iraqi National Symphony Orchestra, discusses the integral role music and culture play in the ongoing rehabilitation of Iraq.

Karim Wasfi performs with the Iraqi National
Symphony Orchestra in Baghdad's Green Zone.

It's difficult gathering all the musicians for rehearsals, but Wasfi and the orchestra have drawn crowds of more than 600 people in war-torn Bagdhad.
Also, Melik Kaylan, culture contributor for The Wall Street Journal, talks about the cultural exchange going on between Iraqis and Americans in Baghdad.

Battling al Qaeda in Iraq

COMMENTARY

WALL STREET JOURNAL

Battling al Qaeda in Iraq


By MELIK KAYLAN

May 21, 2007; Page A17


DIYALA PROVINCE, Iraq -- Saturday I witnessed a violent and dramatic illustration of how the Iraqi Army has, in places, begun to work effectively with tribesmen against determined al Qaeda insurgents.


The incident occurred some 50 miles north of Baghdad at a remote dusty village in Diyala province, which is now a kind of frontline between the two sides. We were there in the punishing noonday heat, with a rustic crowd on hand, to witness an emotional meeting between tribal chiefs in long robes and a lone, clean-shaven figure in a suit and tie -- Ahmed Chalabi. Mr. Chalabi, the elite Shiite politician and former exile, a controversial figure in the U.S., came to thank the elders for their courage and sacrifice.

Love Songs

COMMENTARY
WALL STREET JOURNAL
Love Songs


By MELIK KAYLAN


December 23, 2006
I stayed past the last blustery days of Michaelmas term, a teenager loitering alone amid the empty boarding school's gothic arches in order to go carol singing with girls. I hoped to see one in particular, from the girls' high-school up the road, a sweet swan, all slender wrists and ankles and full of bright warmth, pretty as the South. Mutually besotted for 10 months, we had parted in baffled pain, as helpless lovers do. I lived the afterdays of sorrowing and sighing as if in a posthumous state. Whatever the cliché about raging hormones, teenage enchantment is nothing if not metaphysical, religious on many levels -- full of the infinite regret of life. Christmas itself, its literal meaning of hope-in-despair, and stray lyrics from carols, of a sudden felt acutely real. Could I, at all, sing away my plight, drive away the shaves of night?