Baghdad
Fumes As
The Americans Seek Safety
In 'Tombstone' Forts
By Patrick Cockburn
13 June, 2004
The Independent
"Do not enter
or you will be shot," reads an abrupt notice attached to some razor
wire blocking a roundabout at what used to be the entrance to the 14
July bridge over the Tigris. Only vehicles with permission to enter
the Green Zone, where the occupation authorities have their headquarters,
can now use it. Iraqis who want to cross the river must fight their
way to another bridge through horrendous traffic jams.
Gigantic concrete
slabs, like enormous gray tombstones, now block many roads in Baghdad.
They are about 12 feet high and three feet across and for many Iraqis
have become the unloved symbol of the occupation. Standing side by side,
they form walls around the Green Zone and other US bases, with notices
saying it is illegal to stop beside them.
It is the ever-expanding
US bases and the increasing difficulties and dangers of their daily
lives which make ordinary Iraqis dismiss declarations by President George
Bush about transferring power to a sovereign Iraqi government as meaningless.
As Mr Bush and Tony Blair were speaking this week about a new beginning
for Iraq, the supply of electricity in the country has fallen from 12
hours a day to six hours. On Canal Street yesterday, close to the bombed-out
UN headquarters, there was a two-mile long queue of cars waiting to
buy petrol.
Salahudin Mohammed
al-Rawi, an engineer, dismisses the diplomatic maneuvers over Iraq at
the UN in New York and the G8 meeting in Georgia as an irrelevant charade.
He said: "At the end of the day they cannot cheat the Iraqi people
because the Iraqis are in touch with the real situation on the ground."
For many people
in Baghdad the real situation is very grim. Twenty years ago Abu Nawas
Street on the Tigris used to be filled with restaurants serving mazgouf,
a river fish grilled over an open wood fire and a traditional Baghdadi
delicacy. These days Abu Nawas is largely deserted and is used mainly
by American armored vehicles thundering down the road.
Shahab al-Obeidi
is the manager of the Shatt al-Arab restaurant, where dark gray fish
swim in a circular pond decorated with blue tiles. They may survive
a long time. Mr Obeidi confesses that business is not good. These days
Abu Nawas can only be entered from one direction and culminates in an
American checkpoint.
We asked to see
the owner of the restaurant and Mr Obeidi explained that he "fled
to Syria 40 days ago after his son was kidnapped and he had to pay $20,000
to get him back". A problem, frequently mentioned by Iraqis, is
that US security measures appear to be solely directed at providing
security for Americans. For Iraqis, life in Baghdad is still very dangerous.
Mr Obeidi said that
"in the past 75 per cent of our business was in the evening".
Now he closes the Shatt al-Arab at 6pm and goes home. One night he stayed
open a little later for some customers who were having a good time,
but when he presented the bill they responded by pulling out their pistols
and firing volleys of shots into the ceiling and through the windows.
Mr Obeidi pointed to numerous bullet holes still awaiting repair.
The reason why Abu
Nawas is sealed off is that at the end of the street are the Palestine
and Sheraton hotels, where many foreign company employees as well as
journalists stay. A few hundred yards away is Sadoun Street, once a
main four-lane artery in central Baghdad, but now reduced to two lanes
opposite a side street leading to the Baghdad Hotel. This was attacked
by a suicide bomber last year, without much damage to the hotel, which
was universally believed by Iraqi taxi drivers to be a center for the
CIA. About 30 shops within the cordon sanitaire around the hotel now
face ruin. Nadim al-Hussaini, who has a shop selling large air conditioners,
says: "My business has completely disappeared, first 30 to 40 per
cent when they put up a concrete barrier and 100 per cent when they
closed the road." In theory he should get compensation from the
Coalition Provisional Authority, but so far he has seen no sign of it.
Next door, Zuhaar
Tuma owns a café which is not so badly affected because he still
has his regular customers, smoking hubble-bubble pipes and playing dominoes.
He was a little more understanding about why the road had been closed,
saying: "I don't want to get blown up any more than the Americans
do. But the real solution is simply for the Americans staying at the
hotel to leave it."
The same could be
said of the thousands of other American officials and soldiers in central
Baghdad. Had they based themselves on the outskirts of the capital they
would have been far less visible. But, cut off as they are in their
compounds from real Iraqi life, they probably do not know and may not
care about the sea of resentment that surrounds them.
© 2004 Independent
Digital (UK) Ltd