Leaving
Iraq
By Dahr Jamail
29 June, 2004
The New Standard
Abu
Talat picks me up at my hotel and
were off through the uncharacteristically empty streets of central
Baghdad en route to the airport. Its early enough that we drive
with the windows down rather than running the air conditioner, and the
warm breeze carries the sounds of shop owners sweeping the sidewalks
in front of their stores, palm fronds rustling in the wind and growling
treads of Bradley fighting vehicles as they rumble past.
Neither of us speaks much, as we said most of our goodbyes yesterday.
When you spend three months with someone under the constant threat of
a random death, you grow pretty attached to them. Greater than this,
however, is the fact that this man Ive worked with so closely
as my interpreter/driver/fixer has become one of my best friends.
Weve cried
and laughed together, been shot at by US soldiers, interviewed mujahideen
and exchanged knowing glances when members of various ministries have
lied to us. Most of all, weve worked hard on reporting the situation
on the ground in Iraq. You are my brother, Dahr, he has
told me so many times. I work with you because I know you are
here to tell the truth.
He could have taken
better paying jobs with other news outlets. Like many of the other Iraqis
who have chosen to work with me and my colleagues, he is extremely overqualified.
Yet this work for him is his passion.
We pass US military
patrols and helicopters as if the increase in their presence will somehow
bring more security here as the temperatures rise by the day.
Three checkpoints
later we arrive at the final drop-off area for the airport. See, Abu
Talat is not allowed to go to the airport. His airport. I can, but even
though he is Iraqi, he is not allowed to take his car past the final
checkpoint.
You cant
go further, a gruff soldier says in a thick, southern accent to
Abu Talat after glancing at my passport. Pull the car over there
and drop off Mr. Jamail. We slowly pull onto the gravel and reluctantly
get out of the car together.
We will stay
in touch, Abut Talat says to me as we hug goodbye. Inshallah,
we will stay in touch until you return. You are a friend of the Iraqi
people. Im tongue tied and feel awkwardly full of emotions
for my dear friend. Take good care of yourself and your family,
habibi. Ill see you in September, inshallah.
I slowly walk up
to the road to get into another car that will take me the rest of the
way to the airport.
I look back and
see Abu Talat standing by his car watching me, dedicated to the end.
I wave and smile, as does he, before getting inside the car. I look
out the back window and see him watching me drive away.
How does one reconcile
being able to leave here? We all know its going to get so much
worse; so much worse even than days where over 100 Iraqis are killed
by car bombs, contractors kidnapped and beheaded, prison scandals, soldiers
dying, infrastructure in shambles, and a new prime minister who is poised
to become the next strong man of the New Iraq.
And I get to leave,
while my dear friend must stay and do his best to get by day after day.
I am driven the
rest of the way to the airport by two Iraqi Policemen. We drive by a
huge row of concrete suicide barriers topped with razor wire -- the
once finely landscaped area is brown with dead vegetation, strewn with
garbage. This used to be green and beautiful, said the police
captain as he drove, waving his hand across the area, but now
it is all dead. After pausing he adds, Our situation is
like this now.
All I can do is
nod.
Pulling into the
parking area we pass several mercenaries near the Baghdad Airport sign;
one of them - a fat, pale younger western man wearing a red bandana
over his head, poses with his small automatic weapon under the sign.
He forms an awkwardly manufactured smile as his acquaintance holds a
camera.
Inside the airport
there are large crowds of people waiting to get out. Royal Jordanian
has added an extra flight -- there are three today, all of them fully
booked. Folks arent sticking around for the celebrations
of the handover.
After a while I
board the NGO Air-serve plane, and after a short ways to the runway
I am pressed back in my seat as the engines of the 14 seat turbo-prop
whine with power. We race down the runway for a quick take-off which
then has us buzzing along just 20 meters above the runway to gain speed.
Just as we approach
the end of the runway my gut slides back to my lower spine as the plane
promptly jerks upwards into what feels like a 50 degree climb, shortly
thereafter banking hard to the right. We climb in a corkscrew up to
where war-torn, occupation-riddled Baghdad below takes on the appearance
of the sprawling, proud capital it once was. The green waters surrounding
Saddam Husseins old palace near the airport sparkle in the sun.
Once the altitude
is attained which has us out of the range of rockets, we finally straighten
out and head towards Jordan. After Baghdad fades out of sight, I drift
into a deep sleep. Later I read that a transport plane which departed
Baghdad 6 hours after mine was shot with small arms fire, killing one
of the passengers. Nevertheless, flying remains safer than driving out
of Iraq.
The culture shock
is already apparent in Jordan -- cars drive within the lanes, there
are no military vehicles rolling through the streets with their guns
pointed at everyone, no worries about roadside bombs, no morning mortars
at the CPA, constant electricity at the hotel where I stay... the differences
are ubiquitous.
The next day I watch
the news of the US-led coalition granting full sovereignty
to the US-appointed Iraqi Interim Government two days earlier than everyone
expected in an effort to avoid the large-scale attacks that are assured
for June 30th. I note how the insurgency is now referenced by mainstream
media as an entity to be dealt with. Indeed, as theyve effectively
derailed the previously laid plans of the occupation forces to handover
power to the new government.
Of note as well
is that Prime Minister Allawi has said that his first move will be to
take actions to insure the security of the Iraqi people by looking into
imposing some form of martial law.
Not only are the
occupation forces and new Interim Government of Iraq inhabiting the
old palaces and military bases of Saddam Hussein, they are now fully
engaged in threats and heavy handed tactics reminiscent of the old regime,
that the Iraqi people know all too well.
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Dahr Jamail is Baghdad
correspondent for The NewStandard. He is an Alaskan devoted to covering
the untold stories from occupied Iraq. You can help Dahr continue his
crucial work in Iraq by making donations. For more information or to
donate to Dahr, visit The
NewStandard.
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