It's spring 1937 in Baghdad, Iraq.

Outside a hospital, a black sedan screeches to a halt. Out of the car comes a heavily pregnant woman. Her name is

Super Tulfa. Following just behind is her 12- old son, the boy's been vomiting, complaining of unbearable headaches.

For his mother, a peasant woman who barely scrapes are living as a fortune teller.

These are bad omens.

And Subba isn't the only one who's concerned.

Her neighbours have taken pity on her, driving them to the hospital.

They know she's been struggling to make ends meet since her husband disappeared several months earlier.

Now her son is displaying symptoms of a possible brain tumor.

At the hospital, despite the doctor's best efforts, they're unable to save the boy.

He dies on the operating table.

Unstable and superstitious at the best of times.

Suba now becomes convinced that her unborn child is somehow responsible for his brother's demise.

He wants to be the only man in the family, she tells the shocked neighbors who've been waiting to drive her back home.

On their way out of the hospital, she hurls herself against the heavy double doors attempting to trigger a

miscarriage. When that doesn't work she tries to throw herself under a boss.

Super screams, I'm carrying Satan in my belly.

A month later, in her small mud brick dwelling, Super gives birth.

But given her fragile mental health, it's the baby boy's uncle you must look after him to begin with.

In fact, it's not until three years later that the naughty boisterous

toddler returns to his mother's home. By now he's been given a name, Saddam.

Translated from Arabic, it means, one who confronts.

...