The Quiet Of
Destruction And Death
By Dahr Jamail
03 December, 2004
Dahrjamailiraq.com
Its
a late morning start today
as Im waiting for Abu Talat, who
calls to tell me he is snarled in traffic and will
be late once again, huge explosions shake my hotel. Shortly thereafter
mortars are exploding in the green zone as the loud warning
sirens there begin to blare across Baghdad.
Automatic weapon
fire cracks down the street.
The good news is
that interim prime minister Ayad Allawi has announced a shortening of
the curfew that most of Iraq is under. So now rather than having to
be off the streets by 10:30pm, we can stay out until 11pm before we
are shot on sight.
This past Sunday
a small Iraqi Red Crescent aid convoy was allowed into Fallujah at 4:30pm.
I interviewed a member of the convoy today. Speaking on condition of
anonymity, (so Ill call her Suthir), the first thing she said
to me was, I need another heart and eyes to bear it because my
own are not enough to bear what I saw. Nothing justifies what was done
to this city. I didnt see a house or mosque that wasnt destroyed.
Suthir paused often
to collect herself, but then as usual with those of us who have witnessed
atrocities first hand, when she started to talk, she barely stopped
to breath.
There were
families with nothing. I met a family with three daughters and two sons.
One of their sons, Mustafa who was 16 years old, was killed by American
snipers. Then their house was burned. They had nothing to eat. Just
rice and cold water-dirty water
they put the rice in the dirty
water, let it sit for one or two hours, then they ate the rice. Fatma,
the 17 year-old daughter, said she was praying for God to take her soul
because she couldnt bear the horrors anymore.
The families
12 year old boy told Suthir he used to want to be a doctor or a journalist.
She paused then added, He said that now he has no more dreams.
He could no longer even sleep.
Im sure
the Americans committed bad things there, but who can discover and say
this, she said, They didnt allow us to go to the Julan
area or any of the others where there was heavy fighting, and Im
sure that is where the horrible things took place.
She told me the
military took civilian cars and used them, parked in groups, to block
the streets.
Suthir described
a scene of complete destruction. She said not one mosque, house or school
was undamaged, and said the situation was so desperate for the few families
left in the city that people were literally starving to death, surviving
as the aforementioned family was.
Rather than burying
full bodies, residents of Fallujah are burying legs and arms, and sometimes
just skeletons as dogs had eaten the rest of the body.
She said that even
the schools in Fallujah had been bombed. Suthir also reported that the
oldest teacher in Fallujah, a 90 year-old man, while praying in a mosque
was shot in the head by a US sniper.
The US military
has not given a date when the hundreds of thousands of refugees from
Fallujah would be allowed to return to their city, but estimated it
would be 2 months.
The Minister of
Education announced today that schools will reopen in Fallujah next
week.
There was
no reconstruction there, Suthir added, I just saw more bombs
falling and black smoke. There is not a house or school undamaged there.
I went to a part of the city that someone said was not bombed, but it
was completely destroyed.
The Americans
didnt let us in the places where everyone said there was napalm
used, she said, Julan and those places where the heaviest
fighting was, nobody is allowed to go there.
She said that there
were many military checkpoints, but most of the soldiers she saw were
not doing much.
It was quiet,
but this wasnt the quiet of peace, she told me, It
was the quiet of destruction and death.
As helicopters rumble
overhead, she added with frustration and anger, The military is
doing nothing to help people. Only the Iraqi Red Crescent is trying
to help-but nobody can help the traumatized people, even the IRC.
Later this afternoon,
back in my room one of my Iraqi friends stops by. We talk work until
the sun sets, so she stands to prepare to leave as she doesnt
like to be out after dark.
Pulling her jacket
on she tells me, You know, it is only getting worse here. Everyday
is worse than the last day. Today will be better than tomorrow. Right
now is better than the next hour. This is our life in Iraq now.
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