Baghdad Christmases were once magical affairs, shared by Christians and Muslims. The streets were lit up, the municipality sponsored fireworks, and the last week of the year — from Christmas right through New Year’s — was one long party. At every table, it seemed, was the traditional dish of boiled sheep’s head, and in every oven, the date-filled cookies called klecha.
Writing in the 1920s, the British historian Richard Coke, in his book, “Baghdad: The City of Peace,” described it this way: “The magnificent scale on which the Christian festivals were celebrated in the churches led to many Muslims attending the services, and it was, we are told, a popular custom at holiday times to repair to one of the country monasteries with which the neighborhood abounded, ‘for dancing, drinking and pleasure-making.’”
Nowadays, it is hard to find even a natural Christmas tree. At a tree nursery, small potted spruces flown in from the Netherlands are on sale, at $50 a pop. But Muhammad Isam, the shop’s owner, said he had sold only two of them, both to a local church. Years ago, he used to sell dozens of big trees — he spread his arms wide for emphasis — to families at Christmastime.
Even the Christmas wish lists of young boys reflect the country’s tragic trajectory, said Mahal Mikhael, a Baghdad housewife. Before, she said, boys asked for train sets or a soccer ball or a toy car. Today, she said, they ask for toy guns.
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