Hassan Sadiq, Sabah Jassim, Muwaffaq Wafi, Ahmed Mubarak, and Ihsan Al-Lami
The COVID-19 pandemic was not merely a disconnection from the world but a test of the strength of human bonds. While circumstances forced physical distance, I found in technology an innovative bridge for continuity, establishing a sacred weekly ritual every Friday evening via "Zoom."
The circle included at various times an elite group of friends: Muwaffaq Qambar Wafi, Sabah Jassim, Hassan Sadiq, Sa'di Al-Najjar, Ahmed Mubarak, Ihsan Al-Lami, Shakir Al-Zaidi, and Mohamed (Harith) Al-Shaikhli. Over time, the group's composition changed with the withdrawal of Sa'di, Mohamed, and Shakir at different times for various reasons, but the solid core remained steadfast to this day: Muwaffaq, Sabah, Hassan, Ihsan, and Ahmed.
We six—all retirees residing in Britain except me—turned these cold screens into a warm literary and political salon. They were not mere meetings but a 'laboratory' for strengthening our relationships, navigating politics, history, and philosophy, and indulging in our shared passion for English football. Despite our contradictory opinions that often generate noise, banter, and objections not without jokes and humor that might sometimes be misunderstood, we grew accustomed to this 'beloved chaos' until it became an integral part of our collective identity.
At the heart of those lively sessions, Dr. Hassan Sadiq leans on a rich legacy of knowledge and memories. My relationship with him extends to our youth days in the corridors of the College of Science in Baghdad. Hassan was not merely an academic who gained much from mathematics and whose teaching years were divided between the Universities of Baghdad, Qatar, and Yemen before settling in Britain; he is essentially a distinguished educator, an uncrowned historian, and a master storyteller who holds the keys to time.
When Hassan speaks, it seems he opens an antique 'treasure chest,' narrating contemporary Iraqi history with remarkable precision, moving between eras as if he was present at Gertrude Bell's 'Khatun' council, or witnessed the behind-the-scenes of the royal state's formation. What distinguishes him is not only the narration but that rare talent for 'stitching' facts together—he moves from an ancient historical event to a contemporary political analysis, or a passing scene he observed on social media platforms, without you feeling a gap or boredom creeping in. He has a long breath in speech and the ability to elaborate so time passes without you noticing. If left to guide the conversation without interruption, he would fill hours of the session with an inexhaustible flow of stories and information.
On the human level, Dr. Hassan embodies the true meaning of 'broad character.' He is the expansive soul that receives my persistent teasing and objections with a constant smile, rarely found angry or offended by a word. He possesses an amazing patience for divergent opinions no matter how intense. Perhaps the most astonishing thing about him is that 'iron memory' that defies the dust of years. While we struggle to recall a colleague's or professor's name from our generation, he provides the full name, features, and positions, as if we were still yesterday in Baghdad. Hassan is not merely a member of the circle but its intellectual compass and living memory, giving our sessions an unmatched depth and value.
If Hassan Sadiq is the history vault, Dr. Muwaffaq Kamal Qambar is the reflective compass of our circle. Though family preoccupations and varied interests—such as continuous writing of books with no apparent end—sometimes keep him away, his participation always remains influential and anticipated.
Muwaffaq is the academic who experienced life and its fluctuations through various professional stations. From his early days as a programmer at the dawn of computer introduction to the Ministry of Electricity in Iraq, he demonstrated a proactive mind combining science and application. This path—starting from the College of Science in Baghdad, Physics Department—led him to Britain for his doctorate. His scientific research preoccupation did not isolate him from his homeland's issues; he was a prominent face in student activism within the "Iraqi Students Association," honing his unique personality and free thought there.
This unique blend of physics rigor and struggle spirit was clearly evident in his solid works such as "Existence and Religion" and his enjoyable book "Philosophical Conversations with My Friend." For Muwaffaq, dialogue is not merely an exchange of opinions but a journey to explore the essence of truth using a scientific and philosophical approach. When he joins our 'virtual salon,' he gives discussion a unique balance, his speech flowing with the expert's language and the scientist's tranquility, affirming in every point the depth of his cognitive authority and intellectual firmness in the subject, transforming our session from a mere friends' gathering into an intellectual forum examining the origin and end of things. Unfortunately, Muwaffaq does not share our intense passion for football; once our enthusiasm for the ball ignites, he quietly withdraws into his own world, engrossed in his phone and following the latest political news, or absorbed in watching his brother's videos carrying opinions that can be described—at the very least—as controversial and debatable.
As for Sabah Jassim, he is the scientist and academic who seems to have made an eternal pact with knowledge. He preferred to continue his giving at the University of Buckingham rather than surrender to complete retirement. He is in my view a 'monk of science' who will never find peace, and I see him continuing his teaching and research duties until the moment he is honored by the "Association of Iraqi Academics in the United Kingdom," which traditionally celebrates its members when they dismount from the saddle of work.
Sabah's journey began at the University of Baghdad, where he earned his bachelor's and master's degrees in mathematics, before soaring to Swansea to complete his doctorate. Sabah was never an academic isolated in an ivory tower but a bold activist from his youth in Iraq and later in the ranks of the "Iraqi Students Association," dedicating his energy against the Ba'athist regime. After 2003, he did not hesitate to respond to the homeland's call, contributing with us to projects for improving higher education under UNESCO supervision, leaving his mark in university administration and scientific conferences, especially in Kurdistan Region universities.
In our weekly gatherings, Sabah appears as a beloved specter, often arriving late and sometimes overcome by drowsiness, closing his eyes briefly. Yet he somehow follows every detail of the conversation. Sabah is a man who hates noise and disputes, 'superstitiously' avoiding heated arguments and quietly withdrawing to become a silent observer when tensions rise, preferring light and pleasant conversations and humorous anecdotes recalling shared past memories.
Nevertheless, Sabah's opinions remain an indispensable compass for us, especially in complex files related to Kurdish party policies and the intricate relationship between the center and the region—issues where he holds deep insight, making us sometimes agree and sometimes differ, but always respecting in his views that blend academic experience and the emotion of the old activist.
Then comes Ihsan Al-Lami, who appears with sharp wit almost piercing screens—a keen mind not satisfied with surface appearances but penetrating to their essence in a flash. Ihsan is not merely a professor but an engineer of the digital age who spent his professional career weaving the threads of the future at the heart of both industry and academia.
Ihsan was the 'chip brain' who led and designed those minute electronic circuits pulsing within our mobile phones—an achievement placing him among scientists who shaped the contours of our contemporary lives. Despite this scientific eminence, he appears with the humility of true scientists, not boasting of his knowledge or imposing his technical authority on the session, but flowing in dialogue as one of us, proving that true genius grows simpler as it deepens.
I see him sometimes as a spark of creative intellectual anxiety, his thoughts scattered from sheer vitality, as if his mind operates on the 'quantum logic' he loves—simultaneously seeking a 'life partner' in an existential journey that never ends, and immersed in his passion for cars and his spiritual loyalty to Newcastle United, whose secret only he understands.
Ihsan is my companion in the 'ironic front'—we exchange jokes about the paltry news filling Iraqi space, and in those laughs lies the grief of a scientist saddened by his homeland's delay, pained to see ignorance prevailing in a land that was once a beacon of learning. He is the unique blend of a powerful digital mind and a tender Iraqi heart that never forgets its roots.
Foremost among those we cherish in concluding this discussion is the distinguished engineer Ahmed Mubarak, the refined friend who embodies loyalty to the principles he grew up with and has held fast to throughout his life. Ahmed spent his life struggling for the dream of a "free democratic Iraq," and although history betrayed him as it betrayed us all, giving us in our time only woes and crises that overwhelmed the homeland and its people, Ahmed remained steadfast with a living conscience, untouched by years or disappointments.
I have known him since I first set foot in Britain for studies; we were not very close then, but I observed from afar his firm political struggle and diligent work in the "Iraqi Students Association" to expose the Ba'athist regime's crimes. Today, when he joins our weekly sessions, he gives us another dimension of engineering rigor and political depth. His speech, though brief and not lengthy, compels us to listen to every word, as his opinions and political positions always stem from a sincere patriotic heart and vigilant conscience.
Behind that composed personality, Ahmed appears as the proud "father and grandfather" of his grandchildren, speaking of them and their strong relationships with friendship and pride, seeing in their success an extension of his personal success in various aspects of life. When life becomes complicated, Ahmed retreats to his flourishing garden, about which he has often told us and his passion for it—his beautiful haven that makes him forget the world's noise, just as he does with his loyal support for "Aston Villa."
Ahmed also reminds us, with justified pride, of his contributions to civil engineering and what he gave to road engineering in the United Kingdom. He takes pride in Queen Elizabeth's opening of one of his major projects when he was project manager, and in his company's recognition of him and his contributions to implementing important strategic projects.
Ahmed's professional career remains a living witness that the Iraqi mind builds and reconstructs wherever it settles, just as he builds bridges of love and friendship with everyone who knows him.