ON A SMALL BRIDGE IN IRAQ
Text by Natsuki IKEZAWA
Photograph by Seiich MOTOHASHI
Translated by Alfred BIRNBAUM(English)
Traduction: Corinne Quentin(French)
Aus dem Japanischen von Otto Putz(German)
Published in Feb. 2003 by IMPALA
The original work was published in Jan. 2003 by Kobunsha in Japan as a printed book under the title "Iraku no chiisana hashi wo watatte"
The English, the French and the German version of this book is available at:
http://www.impala.jp/iraq/index.html
(The book is free, and viewed in PDF file.)
Please write a review about the book and send it to our editor. We will add your review on the page.
REVIEW 1: Written by Marek W. Lugowski
Japanese translation
Any book that humanizes the Iraquis by going to Iraq and meeting them is good reading in that it introduces the actual people one to another. Having said that, and having experienced the good of this book, I must nevertheless cringe at the one-sidededness of its harangue. It's not enough to be anti-war: One must avoid getting caught-up in simple viewpoints. Unfortunately, the author's sentiments are worn on his sleaves, and he does not transcend his affections. Iraqui children good, American missiles bad. But it is not that clear-cut and it is not that simple in real life. Nevertheless, it was a good read and I enjoyed the photographs that brought me closer to, yes, the Iraqui kids.
(25 Feb. 2003, Chicago)
<Marek W. Lugowski@A Small Garlic Press>
REVIEW 2: Written by Jennifer Hill Kaucher
Japanese translation
Natsuki Ikezawa's book, "On a Small Bridge in Iraq," documents the author's travels and experiences in Iraq at a time when war appeared imminent. His writing is thoughtful, inquisitive and unapologetically personal. Ikezawa views the country and its people not only through the eyes of a conscientious traveler, but also through the eyes of a sensitive and intelligent journalist as well. Replete with Seiichi Motohachi's tranquil photographs of people living in Iraq, the reader feels upon completion of this book as if it has been left in their hands at the most opportune moment.
(18 Mar. 2003, Pennsylvania)
<Jennifer Hill Kaucher@Wordpainting>
REVIEW 3: Written by Denis Emorine
English transltion
Japanese Translation
A l’heure où les premières bombes américaines s’abattent sur Bagdad (j’écris ces lignes le 20 mars 2003) , « Sur un petit pont en Irak » prend une résonance singulière. D’abord par cette affirmation volontairement brutale reproduite dans les toutes premières pages: « En 2001, les Nations Unies ont présenté un rapport évaluant le nombre de décès dans la population irakienne dus aux sanctions économiques à 1.500.000 personnes dont 620.000 enfants de moins de cinq ans. » ensuite parce qu’il s’agit d’un livre militant au sens noble du terme. Ikesawa et Motohashi ayant restitué avec respect la vie du peuple irakien au plus près.
Paradoxe ? Les photographies sont empreintes de sérénité. Ce parti pris exclut tout côté spectaculaire, malsain ou racoleur. Chaque photo situe l’être humain dans son élément familier, c’est-à-dire dans sa dignité. L’ensemble exclut tout désir d’exotisme facile, tout esthétisme gratuit et notamment l’envie de « faire joli » aux dépens du peuple irakien qui n’est jamais réduit au rôle de figurant. Scènes de rue, jeux d’enfants, fêtes foraines, places de marché, salon de coiffure …Un grand souci d’équilibre lié à la diversité se dégage du travail de Seiichi Motohashi.
Le texte de Natsuki Ikesawa répond aux mêmes exigences de sobriété. L’ écrivain est resté deux semaines en Irak, quelques mois avant la guerre, avec au cœur l’envie de comprendre ce pays en multipliant les rencontres. Il sait nous rendre proches ces gens qui s’adressent spontanément à l’étranger en lui serrant la main. Parallèlement, Ikesawa n’idéalise pas le régime irakien - notamment sur la liberté d’expression et le statut des femmes - tout en affirmant qu’il a « choisi les endroits à visiter, les choses à voir, les personnes à rencontrer en toute liberté » . Il précise ainsi qu’il a fait plus de 1600 kilomètres du nord au sud
accompagné d’un interprète, tout en se déplaçant à sa guise.
Bien entendu, l’écrivain ne reste pas neutre puisqu’il met fortement en cause la prétention de l’Amérique à régenter l’ordre du monde en se justifiant par des raisons fallacieuses (« libération d’un pays et rétablissement de la démocratie »).Empreinte de sensibilité et d’humanisme, sa vision « de l’intérieur » entraîne l’adhésion du lecteur.
« J’avais envie de savoir sur qui tomberaient les bombes, dans le cas où il y aurait une guerre » affirme l’auteur. Ecrites en novembre 2002, ces quelques lignes nous font mieux comprendre l’absurdité de la guerre personnelle de monsieur Bush qui a sans doute beaucoup de comptes à régler, y compris avec lui-même.
(20 March. 2003, Landser, France)
The English translation by Phillip John Usher
As the first American bombs rain down on Iraq (I'm writing this on 20th March 2003), On a little bridge in Iraq resonates with a new relevance. The resonance begins with the obviously fierce statement quoted in the opening pages: "In 2001, the United Nations presented a report that numbered the Iraqi deaths due to economic sanctions at 1.5 million (of which 620,000 children under the age of five)." The resonance and relevance continue throughout what is a militant book in the noble sense of the word. Ikezawa and Motohashi have indeed made, with great respect, a faithful portrait of the Iraqi people.
Is this a paradox? The photographs breath with serenity, a choice that shuts the door on the merely spectacular, on the distasteful, on the use of images for their shock value. The collection betrays no desire for false exoticism, for gratuitous aesthetics. The Iraqi people are never reduced to mere "extras" within some falsely beautiful movie. What predominate are street scenes, children playing, fairs, market squares, hairdressing salons... Seiichi Motohashi's work demonstrates a true concern for balance and diversity.
Natsuki Ikezawa's text is equally sober. The author of the text spent two weeks in Iraq, several months before the war, with the goal of meeting as many people as possible in order to understand the country. The people who greet this foreigner with a handshake become, in the text, very close to the reader. In paralell to this, Ikezawa does not idealize the Iraqi regime --notably in respect of freedom of speech and the status of women-- while at the same time clearly stating that the choices of which places to visit, of what things to see, of which people to meet, were made wholly by the author. The author traveled over 1,600 kilometers from North to South, accompanied by an interpreter, able to move around at will.
Of course, Ikezawa does not remain neutral for he strongly calls into question America's pretension to rule the world and its justifying of itself with amazing and false reasons (i.e. the "need to free a country and re-establish democracy"). Built on a great amount of sensitivity and humanism, the "insider" view brings the reader to agree with the author's stance.
"I wanted to know who the bombs would be falling on if there was a war", the author states. Written in November 2002, these lines highlight and help us understand the absurdity of the personal war lead by Mr. Bush who obviously has many scores to settle, including with himself.
(20 March. 2003, Landser, France)
Translated from the French by Phillip John Usher(the editor of Annetna Nepo)
REVIEW 4: Written by Phillip John Usher
Japanese translation
I have to admit that I approached "On a small bridge in Iraq" with a certain degree of caution. A day rarely passes in the streets of Paris, where I write these lines, without my walking past an art postcard shop touting stylized black and white photos of sullen (but "oh so hopeful, oh so beautiful") women in "Islamic-looking" veils. The "exotic beauty" of such postcards has become increasingly popular over the last year, since the Middle East has come to occupy a more central place in the general public's grasp on world geography. Or rather, it is perhaps more fitting to say that the CNN-watching public is now used to seeing images on the screen and in the glossies of the Middle East. Seiichi Motohashi's photographs obviously run the risk of being compared to what might be termed the commerce of "ethnic photography", the contemporary equivalent to nineteenth-century fascination with artifacts from the "Orient", that myth now debunked by Edward Said. It is a tough confrontation, and the proliferation of images of the Middle East, often circulating without commentary or as falsely aesthetisized art objects, makes it difficult for anyone undertaking a photo-reportage on Iraq to avoid the pitfalls. This little book, it has to be said, offers an interesting snaking path around a lot of them.
The English version of the work is in two parts, the first has color photographs and a brief staccato commentary mixing details about problems caused by the UN embargo and impressionistic comments about the local lifestyle. The sobriety of the former is refreshing and offers a documentary style that makes the photographs more than the aesthetic objects of delight that could be. The more qualitative comments about the culture are somewhat less interesting, as for example this one: "They are a truly cheerful people. And moreover amazingly generous".
The second, and main, part of the work includes black and white photographs and a narrative about the trip made to Iraq. Just as Gustave Flaubert set out to Greece with his copy of the Odyssey, so the authors of this work set out with a primarily archeological project in mind. The text and the photos, however, show the authors turning around to focus on current-day Iraq, and on the current predicament on the situation and the people. The text and the photographs try to let us feel "the country's pulse", to get a feeling for what it's like to be in the city, and in many ways they succeed. The difficulty, for this work and any similar one, is to synthesize this first-hand account with the larger political situation. In "On a small bridge in Iraq" we are never allowed to forget that we are looking in from the outside, that the people met in the street who tell of their country are speaking in a foreign language. This is a proof of journalistic honesty and helps draw clear lines between documentary and commentary. When we cross the line into commentary, the text throws us back into the outsider's viewpoint for good: at one point, the text suggests that the 100 percent backing given to Saddam Hussein was perhaps a window on popular sentiment; further on, the text reads "Saddam Hussein has not held onto power by repression alone. Good or bad, he is an excellent politician". It is difficult to know how to react to such comments which hardly take into account the full complexity of the situation. The clear lines between such commentary and the photographs and more documentary text makes it an interesting voyage between the two levels. The reader will not remain indifferent to Iraq's current situation.
For these are times when everything gets mixed up and interwoven. Saddam Hussein was a dictator. But Bush is nothing more than an arrogant cowboy. It is hard to get beyond this dichotomy, hard to not implicitly buy into Huntington's "Clash of Civilizations" hypothesis. And yet it is only in getting beyond the clear-cut, the yes-no, the black-white, and Muslim-Christian, that we will start to see things a little clearer. That is more than we can hope from a documentary work like "On a small bridge in Iraq". What "On a small bridge in Iraq" does do, and it is a book worth having for this, is to take us inside the daily routines of wood-cutters and children singing, it shows us that war and the complexity of the geopolitical situation is as far away for most Iraqis as it is for the average twinkies-munching, NYPD-watching American. This is the works greatest merit for it suggests the feeling of strangeness that the people and places pictured may soon have bombs dropped on them is a feeling shared from the inside, by the people who live there. This is surely a strong comment on what the country is feeling after the American bombing, and likely to open up our understanding of the "post-dictator" freedom, that will no doubt bring part of the "hang-over" typical to most post- (eg. post-colonial) situations, partly due to the haziness of the pre-...
To make up your own mind, I fully recommend on getting hold of: "On a small bridge in Iraq".
(Thu, 29 May 2003, Paris)
<Phillip John Usher@Annetna Nepo>
