Ali Bader - The Tobacco Keeper

The letter that Haidar sent to Farida, dated 1 November 1962, was brief and clear. He couldn’t specify exactly what he wanted, but he felt that he was in mortal danger. His wife Tahira was in Moscow for medical treatment. He wrote to Farida that Tahira was always pale, thin and in very poor health. His son Hussein went to Saint Joseph’s School in Al-Alweya. He spoke incessantly about his wife’s illness but never about their relationship. His real interests at the time, as his letters indicate, were music and politics. He believed that the decline in artistic and aesthetic taste had left a huge mark on politics and vice versa.

Haidar Salman’s family life wasn’t in the best of shape, for his relationship with Tahira was vague and undefined. Many rumours linked him with the painter Nahida al-Said, who was introduced to him by Jawad Selim who was visiting Hekmat Aziz. Selim came to know Aziz in Tehran and would always visit him at his house in Al-Adhamiya.

Selim was the one who built the Freedom Memorial as an outcome of the revolution. The brilliant sculptor had created this memorial in the shape a Sumerian cylinder seal. But the man who wished to be the revolution’s architect created its base and the frieze in the form of a populist poster. That was why Haidar Salman loathed the memorial so much. He often argued about it with Nahida. Nevertheless, he frequently mentioned Nahida al-Said and her ideas in his letters to Farida. What was it that attracted him to the painter’s ideas so much?

He wrote to Farida that he’d recently made the acquaintance of a young woman painter. The young, pretty woman caused a drastic change in Haidar’s outlook. At least he found in her vision and ideas some consolation for his music. Her paintings didn’t tackle the populist, folkloric and patriotic themes that were so popular in those days. Rather, they were informed by universal concerns and represented absolute subjectivity and idealism. Such traits were abhorred then, because it was generally accepted that art shouldn’t be separated from life. Art, according to this view, came close to political propaganda. It had the function of re-examining existing tradition in order to create new modes of expression. This was what Jawad Selim and his school did.

The US-educated young woman, Nahida al-Said, was only looking for intellectual, emotional and intuitive forms and not for any ideological meaning or content. This was what attracted Haidar to her and what he needed at that time, although he couldn’t articulate it. He refused to express stereotypical images of people or realistic events through his music, although he believed that the grounded and spiritual aspect of music could elevate people and enhance their intuitive capacity. Music was able to unite and refine people, to urge them to work hard and respond to the instinctive beauty within their souls. He believed that it was for art to eradicate ugliness and introduce beauty to the world. It replaced the anarchy of clashing colours and discordant rhythms with harmonious melodies that embodied absolute beauty.

But who among the artists or any others was listening to him at the time? In fact, very few of his friends paid much attention to such ideas. There was heated debate in the newspapers and magazines as to whether art should exist for its own sake or for society’s benefit. Despite the vulgarity and crudity of the arguments, everybody accused Haidar of falling prey to the influence of bourgeois aesthetics. This was a serious charge at that time. He felt truly lonely and alienated. Almost every day he would leave his house and walk Baghdad’s streets with his hands in his pockets, wondering if there was anything uglier than the environment surrounding him or more repellent than the prevalent vogue of political and folkloric kitsch. Was there anything more sordid or distasteful? As soon as any discussions started, he would burst out in their faces. He believed that kitsch would produce greater violence in society. Lines, dots, surfaces and three-dimensional forms would disappear and be replaced by corpses left hanging in public. The people, who had been encouraged to be resentful, with strident colours, vulgar music and loud anthems, would become a hugely destructive force that might be impossible to reverse.

Haidar’s friends in turn would flare up in his face as they defended the people’s art and the crowds, except for Nahida. Her ideas were close to his and she often defended the views he expressed at the meetings held at Hekmat Aziz’s house.

It was probably Nahida al-Said’s defence of his views that attracted him to her. A new sensation was impelling him. As she approached him with her pure, fair complexion, her clear eyes and slim arms, he was in flames. Looking into her eyes or smelling her scent, he was overcome with both terror and infatuation. He felt completely numb in front of her. Were they involved in a relationship at that time?

All the evidence points to the fact that the composer spent most of his day at her apartment. He also spent most of his nights with her when his wife Tahira travelled to Moscow. The only surviving piece of evidence for this relationship is the painting that she produced of the composer. He is completely naked and holding his violin in his arms like a woman. The warm colours and technique of the painting represent the playing of music as a kind of sexual encounter. These were naturally Haidar Salman’s views of music. In one of his letters to Farida, he described the half-naked Nahida painting in her studio while he lay on the couch drinking vodka.

Almost everyone knew of their affair. Haidar Salman even felt that his sick wife tolerated the relationship. This was what most of the people that we met confirmed, particularly those who knew the two of them at that time. But what we were looking for was the reason behind Haidar’s admiration for Nahida al-Said. Was he attracted to her anti-revolutionary ideas or the way she was influenced, like him, by bourgeois aesthetics? In fact, all events point to differences in their views regarding the revolution. All those whom we asked about Nahida al-Said and her life confirmed that to some extent she believed in the revolution. But her thoughts were vague and inconsistent (incidentally, Nahida al-Said was a committed communist). Haidar’s own ideas were clear. In his view, revolution destroyed harmony. It was a violent blow that disturbed peace and serenity. No fruitful or consistent change could possibly happen in the midst of overriding chaos. He thought of revolution as the serum to cure us of a minor illness. Instead, it destroyed the harmony between our bodies and nature, leaving our bodies weak and exhausted. We should point out, however, that Haidar Salman never completely broke with the Communist Party, unlike Al-Sayyab, who abandoned the Party altogether and attacked it. The Party preferred at that time to keep Haidar within reach, even when his ideological stand was different from theirs. That was deemed much safer than engaging in a headlong confrontation with him, as happened with Badr Shaker al-Sayyab, who opened fire on the Party and published a series of articles entitled ‘I was a communist’.

Did Haidar Salman intuitively understand certain things that others didn’t? The events of the evening preceding the 1963 coup suggest that he did. All the guests who attended Hekmat Aziz’s party at his house in Al-Adhamiya that night agreed that Haidar’s behaviour was very strange. It was February and the cold had descended on the wet trees in the garden, while the warmth of the living room inside the house made the artists who were sitting in a circle around the fireplace woozy. None of those who were present knew anything about what the next day would bring. Haidar stood near the fireguard with a glass in his hand, while Nahida al-Said stood beside him, also drinking. When he came too close to her, a horrified scream flew out from Nahida’s mouth as he flung the wine at her face and clothes.