Title: My Autobiography and the Cradle of My Childhood: Baghdad

 

Title: My Autobiography and the Cradle of My Childhood: Baghdad
Author: Adnan Mahdi Al-Taie

Introduction

Life, as I have come to understand it after a long journey through time, is nothing but flashes of memory that ignite in moments of clarity, lighting our path toward truth. For me, an autobiography is not merely a story to be told, but a testimony of a man who lived through the transformations of a homeland and faced within himself the same struggles he witnessed in his reality—between thought, spirit, and time.

I am Adnan Mahdi Al-Taie, a son of Baghdad, born in an era that opened its eyes to war and closed them upon hope. I was born in 1941, in the heart of a city that resembled a loving mother hiding her sorrow behind her radiant face—a city that continued to give birth to civilization and embrace ideas, even in the harshest of times.

Chapter One: The Cradle of Childhood — Al-Kadhimiya and Early Life

I was born during World War II, which ended in 1944. Baghdad at that time was under British bombardment, forcing my family to move to the sacred city of Al-Kadhimiya, home to the shrine of the Prophet’s grandson. It was then a simple, devout town, serene in its faith and modest in its life.

There, I saw the light of the world, in a humble Baghdadi courtyard house filled with peace and affection.

My family descended from Arab tribal roots originating from the Arabian Peninsula, carrying in our features a blend of Bedouin resilience and ancient dignity. My father was a master tailor of traditional Arab cloaks (abayas)—a man of wisdom who gradually transformed from the mindset of tribal life to that of a modern, urban thinker. He replaced his traditional robe with a European suit yet kept his moral pride intact.

My mother was a housewife who could read and write, intelligent and gentle, dedicating her life to raising her children and managing the household with patience and love.

I spent my childhood roaming the alleys of Al-Kadhimiya, between the calls of street vendors and the melodic echo of the adhan from nearby mosques. It was a place where simplicity met faith, and where life flowed quietly, touched by the sacred and the ordinary alike.

Every summer, which lasted three full months, I worked with my father and older brother in the tailoring shop until I completed my studies and entered university. That work was my first lesson in life—it taught me the meaning of diligence, pride, and belonging to what one’s hands and mind create together.

Chapter Two: Baghdad — Past and Present

Baghdad has always been the pulsating heart of civilization, a mirror reflecting humanity’s development on the eternal banks of the Tigris. Its history stretches deep into antiquity as an extension of Sumerian and Babylonian civilizations, flourishing around 3000 BCE, in lands that witnessed the flood of Noah as mentioned in the holy scriptures.

In 762 CE, the Abbasid Caliph Abu Ja’far Al-Mansur founded the modern city of Baghdad, designing it as a perfect circle surrounded by towering walls to protect it from the raids of neighboring villages. The Tigris River ran through the city, breathing life into its streets, palaces, and mosques, making Baghdad one of the most magnificent cities of its time.

Baghdad became the hub of government and military operations, as well as a center for learning and culture. The House of Wisdom gathered philosophers and translators from every corner of the world. Poetry, music, and art flourished, making Baghdad a gem of civilization.

Today, despite the challenges, Baghdad retains its core spirit city that breathes history and writes, through its enduring trials, the story of humanity seeking light amid darkness.

Chapter Three: Intellectual and Philosophical Journey

I graduated in 1963 from the College of Languages, University of Baghdad, majoring in German, and completed my master's in philosophy in 1961. From that moment, my journey with thought, philosophy, and language began.

I learned that philosophy is not a static science, but a path to freedom, and that poetry and thought are two faces of a single essence—the search for meaning. I wrote on philosophy, religion, and history, published numerous articles in Iraqi newspapers since 2004, including in the Ministry of Information journal, alongside collections of poems and short stories. Writing for me was not a profession but a form of salvation.

I believe in one God, yet I see religions as human constructs shaped by intellect and history, reflecting both contradictions and insights of the human mind. My faith is grounded in freedom of thought and human dignity, not in unquestioned adherence to tradition.

Chapter Four: Family and Life’s Journey

In 1963, I married Amal Abbas, born in 1944, who today accompanies me in the journey of old age at Estia Health in Melbourne, Australia, enduring the challenges of Alzheimer’s, yet still radiating warmth and memory of love.

We were blessed with four children and ten grandchildren:

• Ahmed (1967) physician, residing in Melbourne with three children
• Ali (1970) mechanical engineer, living in the UK with three children
• Mohammed (1973) — deceased in Australia; his wife and two children live in Melbourne
• Ammar (1987) living in Melbourne, married with one child

Family was always a source of strength, hope, and love, even though it was loss, separation, and longing.

Chapter Five: Exile and Resettlement in Australia

I traveled to many countries: Britain, Germany, France, Italy, Spain, and various Arab nations, learning about human customs and civilizations, searching for cultures that illuminate rather than oppress.

Ultimately, I had to leave Iraq, as free thought had become a crime. My secular, democratic, and socially conscious beliefs were no longer tolerated. I sought asylum in Australia in 2019, a decision not taken lightly, but determined by the journey of the mind and persecution of freedom.

Here, I found freedom and dignity, a society that respects aging and cares for the sick. In the nursing home, my wife and I live surrounded by compassionate doctors, nurses, and staff. Every day I remind myself: “Humanity still has meaning, and dignity is possible even in the twilight of life.”

Chapter Six: Analytical Reflections on the Narrative

This autobiography is not only a record of a past era, but a reflection on the dialectic of humanity and time, between freedom and constraint, homeland and exile. It is a testament of a generation that believed thought could change the world, and that words could resist oblivion.

Life for me is not luxury, but necessity—a way to preserve reason, freedom, and creativity. Truth is not given; it is seized through reflection, courage, and integrity.

Conclusion

In the end, memory is not merely the past, but a homeland we carry wherever we go.

I was born in Baghdad, and I may die in Melbourne, but between birth and death, I have lived a life written in ink, tears, and hope. I have learned that truth is not granted, dignity is not a slogan, and that the human spirit can always reclaim itself.

Acknowledgements

I extend my deepest gratitude to Estia Health, Melbourne, and to the doctors, nurses, and staff who treated us with care and respect in our old age.

I thank all friends, thinkers, and cultural institutions in Australia who helped document this life story, preserving it as a testament to humanity and intellect.

To my wife Amal, I say: thank you for being my light in darkness, my support in weakness.

And to Baghdad, the cradle of my childhood: you will always remain the sanctuary of my soul, my first home, and my enduring inspiration.