Our father, grandfather to our children and husband to our Mum, Coral, Dr Kais Bahrani has passed away peacefully in his sleep at the age of 86.
Born on the 29th of September 1939, according to his auntie’s notes she kept for all the births in the family at the time (his official Birthday was different, but that’s another story). Stories of his childhood were of a skinny active young boy, the apple of his mother’s eye though a little devil to control. Steeped in Bahrani mythology is that Dad went swimming age six in the Tigris River and word had got back to his Mum that he drowned. Only for him to appear cheekily faced in front of his distraught mother a while later. This, amongst traits he would pass on through his DNA for later generations of mothers to experience the same!
Aziziya where Kais was born was essentially part of the Bahrani estate run by his father, our grandfather, Salim. Despite their status, Dad was reputed to prefer the company of the farm workers families and spent most of his time helping out on the land which also reflected in his later professional life. He said, while not swimming in the Tigris obviously, he was driving a tractor by the age of 6. In our lifetime, since childhood we recall dad spending any spare waking hour in the garden, rain or shine. If anything can be described as his passion, it was this. Though we did manage to tear him away to play Table tennis (we had a table) every now and then. He was an excellent player and even though he taught us well, I don’t think we ever managed to beat him without him letting us.
Due to regular and life disrupting flooding in Aziziya, the family, and there were a lot of them, moved to Baghdad eventually settling in the affluent Mansoor district where he and his siblings continued their education. Dad claims he wasn’t the most attentive at school and surprised his teachers when he ultimately achieved the grades to go to university. Age 17, as was now a tradition followed by his older siblings and cousins, Dad was set for the UK, passing through Guildford and ultimately landing in Cardiff, where his older (and better looking according to Mum and she’s here with us as I write this chuckling away at that comment) brother Izzie already was studying. There he was to read for a degree in Civil Engineering. Here he met our mother at a college dance apparently [Mum nods], whilst they were both in their first year. Soon he became a regular fixture for Sunday lunch at our Grandparents’ (to be) house in Aberdare and so began one of life’s great adventures.
Their journey took them through their life in Cardiff where Mum could often be found riding pillion on the back of Dad’s Vespa with, the oft recited, fun times of travelling through Scotland and even to Norway where a number of their close University friends were from. There is a rumour (actually there are photographs) of them having a mock wedding at Gretner Green. Though Dad often referred to it as a proper wedding. That has never been verified!
As an aside Mum has just recounted how they were on their way to the mountains to go skiing for their half term. The Norwegian lot promised to take them and teach them. So, they hopped into a van with a portable BBQ and drove for 10 hours.
Another aside, Mum has just talked about is that dad travelled to Norway from South Wales on his Vespa (you have questions? So do we!) and somewhere along the journey he had an accident which accounts for the scar we’ve always know him to have on his knee. Mum says he stayed at the house in Aberdare with her parents for a week or so to recuperate.
Then came their life in the swinging sixties where they journeyed through France, to Iraq (where they got married twice apparently; once in a Mosque and once at the British Consulate, hence Dad always saying they got married three times) then via the Netherlands for a bit where Dad studied at the Delft institute and back to Iraq again where dad took on an Engineering role in water and waste management.
The 1970s everything changed. Back in Baghdad, living with the family in Mansoor, Mum became pregnant with me (Haider) and then 14 months later in May 1971 out popped my little brother Basil. By 1973 they were on the move again, to Birmingham where our father was to complete his PhD in a little under two and a half years. His professor told him it (the PhD) was way too quick, in completing, and he would have to wait six months before they could officially award it to him. So, Dr Kais designate played table tennis for 6 months at the University sports facilities which is one of the reasons why he was so good!
A short period of lecturing in South Wales followed before we all returned back to Baghdad where dad took up a post in the water and wastewater treatment contracting company, a state-owned company which built most of the sewage and water treatment infra-structure in the country. Within a few years he was to become it’s youngest ever executive chairman with the largest single budget of any department or company in Iraq. Within a few years they managed to change the lives of most of the towns and villages in the country by giving them access to clean water and wastewater services both of which they had very little access to prior to that.
The 1980s came and so did the war with Iran. This changed things again and the family moved back to the UK where he continued as a consultant in the same area of business. Dad did make the claim that the last thing he did before leaving was to complete a giant sewage works in Baghdad which he said was so big it could be seen from space. He did, later point it out to us on Google maps though. Nod and smile, look impressed etc.
Dre Kais, Dad was, as he always told us a-political. He was often invited to join the Baath party and back then, in the 1970s and 80s it was considered that you couldn’t advance your position in any state institution unless you were a member. So many did, mostly reluctantly. Dad always refused which is why his official title was ‘deputy chairman’. The official chairman was a retired party official who in fact had nothing to do with the company. Dad reported directly the deputy Prime Minister who was also minster for the interior who in tern reported to Saddam Hussain. Anecdotally, in conversation with those who were there at the time, he was regarded as one of the best Engineers in the country and he was therefore given the liberty to just get on with things as he clearly had no political ambition. He was however very proud of the infrastructure he helped build. Getting clean water and a wastewater network to a vast country was, in his mind (and true) a major step in quality of life for millions of people.
When in the early 1980s Dad wanted to leave Iraq, mainly to take my brother and I and Mum to perceived safety, he was not hindered in any way. He continually wandered how that was the case. At every point where he expected an obstacle he found a helping hand and an open door. I would speculate that it was in part that he always, even when reaching the lofty heights, stayed with the workers when travelling on site, befriended the cleaners, took regular tea with the janitors and cared not for airs and graces. Possibly it was also in part due to his apolitical stance and that even tyrant like Saddam respected his contribution and thought (alluh wyak) God be with you. We will never really know.
As things slowed down in later life and we’d all left the nest, albeit with a couple of boomerang returns, Mum and Dad enjoyed some trips to more exotic places from the Caribbean to India. Dad also continued some research where the civil engineering department at Kingston University, which was local, allowed him the use of their labs for a while. After a long search for a hobby to complement his long hours in the garden Dad settled on Bridge. As it turns out it was like his second calling and he rose to become one of the best Bridge players in the land with partners seeking him out from all over mid Surrey (don’t tell mum). At one point, I think, he ranked fourth in the UK. Or was it England? Not sure, but very, very good indeed. Most importantly he enjoyed and filled his evenings as he wasn’t a great fan of television, and it allowed mum to watch her favourite TV programs without him grumbling.
One of our best memories of the latter years was 2019 where we celebrated both Mum and Dad’s 80th Birthdays with a surprise BBQ with family and friends. Some came from afar and the look on their faces when they arrived to see everyone was both priceless and a joy. It was the last time many of us would get together as within a couple of months COVID hit, the skies were quieter if a little more, blue and the trees a little more, green. We had Mum and Dad on the phone a lot, of course and it seemed Dad relished the inactivity though he continued, against our better advice to drive to the supermarket and enjoy the quieter shopping experience.
We did manage to get a few more Christmases and dinner events in with them and the kids, times we will forever have in our memories. Dad cherished his grandchildren more than anything and they loved him.
In his life Dad had a passion for music and he often played it very loudly throughout the house. Most commonly, Um Kalthum or Beethoven, but often a bit of Frank Sinatra, Shirley Bassey and the Soundtrack to Cats would creep in. As children it would be the way he woke the house up on a morning. Memories indeed!
Oh and about that ‘fake’ birthday of his: apparently at some point when Dad needed a birth certificate, as he was not issued one at birth, he sat down with his brothers to work out the best date that allowed him fit in his military service and some other things at a time that suited him. So, for some reason, working backwards, they came up with March 7th, 1940. This will be found on all his legal documents. As a family we celebrate September.
In 2023 dad was diagnosed with Mixed Alzheimer’s Dementia and Depression. This was considered Mild and he in the most carried on with his daily activities driving etc. In the Summer of 2024 he took a sudden and unexpected turn for the worst. He ended up in hospital for a period where he was diagnosed with Delirium presumed to have been caused by an infection for which he was treated though he never recovered from his new baseline.
Dad leaves behind his Wife (our Mum and Grandmother) two sons and three grandchildren. He will be missed.