Saad Eskander has one of the most dangerous jobs in academia. He is the head of the Iraq National Library and Archive (NLA) in Baghdad.
After Saddam Hussein's removal, the collection was damaged in widespread looting. But at the end of last year, Dr Eskander finally managed to persuade the authorities to reopen the NLA.
Since then, he has been writing a regular diary, forwarded by email around the academic community, and the British Library has started reposting his entries on their website in fortnightly instalments. His writings show an attempt at normality amid the bombs and bullets.
Fulfilling the library's most basic needs is difficult. "I went to the Ministry of Energy, hoping to persuade its officials to exclude the National Library and Archives from its Cut Programmes," Dr Eskander writes in his most recent post.
"I had a brief meeting with the deputy director general of the department of electricity distribution. I asked if she could provide the NLA six hours of electricity everyday. She told frankly that my request was out of the question."
And tragedy is never far away. February 8 is the day he calls "black Thursday". Two of his staff, Sunni and Shia Muslim, went against his advice to search for a missing colleague in a dangerous area of the city. Both were kidnapped; only one returned alive.
"I have come to realise that nowadays in Baghdad, the perfect human being would be one who can switch off all his senses," Dr Eskander writes in his matter-of-fact style. "To be blind and deaf is not a curse anymore, but a blessing in disguise."
With the help of the British Library, his staff has started to rebuild the collection. Rare documents on the history of the country's establishment have been copied onto microfiche, and the NLA's stock is being replenished with book donations. Of course, the NLA is not the only historical site to suffer.
When your country is tearing itself apart before your eyes, keeping its memory and culture alive is one of the most important jobs there is.
