Samarra:
Plenty Of Troops,
still No Infrastructure
By Dahr Jamail
Electronic
Iraq,
31 December 2003
So
far, every single journalist I've spoken with here has told me that
they had followed the news closely prior to their arrival, and knew
to prepare themselves for it. But after being here even just a day,
have been astonished at how terrible the situation here truly is. This
was also my experience upon arriving my very first day.
It has now been
over 9 months since the 'war' ended. The country of Iraq remains in
chaos, and the lack of consistent basic services such as petrol, security,
electricity, and running water continue to afflict Iraqis.
So many times I've
heard people discuss that even though Saddam Hussein was a ruthless
dictator, he still managed to get the electricity, water, and communications
systems back up and running three months after the Gulf War. For the
record, several engineers I've spoken with have stated that these portions
of the infrastructure suffered far greater damage then, than during
the more recent Anglo-American Invasion.
Each day I walk
by a communications building that was bombed last March. While the building
remains in shambles, a metal tower has been erected, and every other
day a new dish appears on it. Several times when I've walked by it I
see that the machine gun toting security guards near the 'entrance'
of what is left of the building are wearing Bechtel security badges.
Meanwhile, in other
parts of Baghdad there are no land lines, and I've yet to see one of
the communication centers being rebuilt.
The lesson seems
to be that if repairing/rebuilding something in Iraq isn't necessary
to serve US and British interests, it is left as it is. Most Iraqis
I speak with continue to wonder just when, exactly will the rebuilding
of the damaged infrastructure begin.
A micro-example
of the aforementioned is that the owner of Pizzeria Napoli on Karrada
Marium Street carries one of the highly sought after MCI cell phones.
Generally these are only available to certain NGO's in Baghdad, some
CPA members, and a select few relief agencies that are bold enough to
stay here.
So why does the
owner of a pizza shop near the 'Green Zone' have one of these, while
United Nations Development Program emergency doctors go without? So
that westerners and their puppets in the IGC can have their pizza orders
phoned in ahead of time?
Meanwhile, the US
military pushes further down the road towards liberating the people
of Iraq using military operations currently in progress with names such
as: Iron Hammer, Iron Grip, Iron Justice, Desert Scorpion, Ivy Serpent,
Ivy Needle, Ivy Cyclone (I and II), and Operation Bulldog Mammoth. And
we musn't forget Operation Rifles Fury.
No, I am not making
these names up.
With fighter jets
flying over Baghdad the last several nights, helicopters constantly
rumbling overhead, Bradleys and Humvees roaming the streets, thumping
explosions and random gunfire all over Baghdad, I've yet to talk with
an Iraqi in the five weeks I have been here who has told me they are
enjoying their newfound freedoms, democracy, or liberation.
Of course the constant
attacks by the resistance fighters that so often kill Iraqi civilians
along with the targeted US soldiers don't help them feel any more liberated
either.
Gunmen wearing face
masks, supported by the CPA, are visible around Baghdad. Men with automatic
machine guns inside bunkers guard the banks. Bradley fighting vehicles
loom in front of many of the petrol stations. Razor wire is visible
on every other block.
Checkpoints abound,
yet the disparity is glaringly apparent, whether they are IP (Iraqi
Police) checkpoints, or run by the US military. Most times we are waved
through -- so much for searching cars for bombs, weapons, or insurgents.
Today found myself
and some fellow journalists going to Samarra. Our mini-van is slowed
by having to follow a patrol right up the main street to the Golden
Mosque. It is comprised of three Humvees, a truck full of IPs, and several
soldiers walking with IPs positioned between them and the people on
the sidewalks.
We conducted several
sidewalk interviews to get an idea of how the climate is in the city,
which has been suffering home raids both day and night and home demolitions
by the military.
Rahud, at a tea
stall tells me there is a 9pm curfew now, and anyone out after that
is detained, no questions asked.
Another man tells
me he knows of several people picked up for being out too late, and
nobody knows where they have been taken.
He raises his voice
and says,
"We have electricity
for five minutes, then it is cut. Then five more minutes, then cut.
It is always like this here now. I know some people who were detained
8 months ago, and still none of us know where they are. There is no
civilization here now. All of Iraq wants the US out now."
The usual crowd
gathers during the interview, and men begin to chime in with their anti-American
comments,
"America no
good! Americans outside of Iraq! Down Down Bush!"
A man named Kamel
Rashid Abrahim tells of how the gate to his home was bombed, injuring
some of his family. His home was searched, then the just soldiers left.
Another man grabs
my arm and points to his foot as he stomps the ground,
"America no
good! America under my foot!"
The crowd continues
to grow in size and noise, so it is time to leave. While walking to
the mini-van, a man says to me,
"If anyone
hits the US in the streets here, they arrest everyone around. No questions
asked. How can we live like this? Where are our human rights?"
We ask if it is
possible to see a home that has been demolished, the new form of collective
punishment the Americans are practicing here in Iraq.
Weaving our way
to the outskirts of Samarra Abu Mohammed brings us to his brother's
home, which is now a heap of broken concrete pushed into piles with
twisted metal bars chaotically reaching towards the sky.
Many neighbors
gather around as we survey they damage, and pieces of the story of what
happened begin to fall in place.
The men tell us
that in the early afternoon of 18 December, a large military convoy
the was passing the home when an IED (Improvised Explosive Device) exploded
on a Stryker vehicle, it rolled another 10 meters, then sat burning.
There is a large
black scar of scorched earth where they point, 10 meters away from where
they show us the IED blew up.
The soldiers then
opened fire at several of the surrounding homes.
Bullet pock marks
are pointed out in several walls of nearby homes, and particularly the
home directly across the road from where the Stryker vehicle was hit.
The old man takes
us into this home, pointing out bullet holes in the walls, a television
destroyed with a bullet hole in the wall behind it.
He says,
"We were having
lunch, and laid on the ground as our home was shot. There was nothing
else we could do."
He told us that
soldiers raided the home, searched it, then occupied it until nightfall.
"They just
stayed here to scare us, there is not other reason. I am afraid of them.
They demanded information that we do not have," he says.
The troops left
at nightfall.
Four days later
tanks and bulldozers arrived, with the tanks sealing off the area, and
the bulldozers demolished the home near the IED which was under construction.
The neighbors asked
them why they were doing this to an empty home. The soldiers told them,
"We are just following orders."
Another home a little
ways down the road was demolished as well by the bulldozer, after the
family was forced outside, carrying the few valuables they could.
We leave this area,
and shortly thereafter come upon a large group of Stryker vehicles.
They have sealed off a section of town, and we saw troops walking down
several of the streets.
The soldiers were
helpful when we asked for information, in that they were cordial and
brought us inside a perimeter of Strykers while we awaited the commander
who was said to be on his way to answer our questions.
One of the soldiers
talking to us is looking around nervously, sometimes not finishing his
sentences. He does go on to tell us that two Stryker vehicles have been
destroyed here in the last few weeks, and they were a freshly deployed
group, having only arrived in the first week of December.
He somberly tells
us that they had already lost five soldiers from their brigade here.
He is asked how
they can tell the enemy from the civilians. His face hardens somewhat,
and he says,
"We can't.
All I can do is stay sharp and hope for the best. I just want to complete
my mission and get out of here."
Two helicopters
constantly circle us, apparently giving air support to this operation
in the neighborhood. Meanwhile, I look around and watch soldiers constantly
scanning the distance and the cars that slowly pass by. I try to put
myself in their shoes, guessing which vehicle could be a suicide bomber
-- and I have no idea how to tell the difference from all of the beat
up cars, or any of the men walking past wearing kefiyyahs (the Arab
checkered scarf popular in the Middle East).
I ask him when he
will get to go home.
"I don't have
any idea. I just get through today, and maybe think about the next few
days, but that's it. I try not to think about it too much."
I ask him, "Do
you get any days off? How many hours a day do you do this?"
"We got a few
hours off on Christmas. We're always on the move," he replies.
A woman soldier,
along with a man from Oakland ask us what is going on in the world,
as they have no email or phone access. They have no idea what is going
on anywhere in Iraq, or outside of Iraq. Only what they are doing in
Samarra.
One of them asks
what Baghdad is like.
The commander who
was to answer our questions never shows up, so we drive away.
Leaving Samarra
as the sun sets finds us passing walls along the side of the road with
graffiti that says,
"All the spies
will die!"
"Fall down
America!"
"God will protect
the Mujahideen."
Dahr Jamail is a freelance journalist and political activist from Anchorage,
Alaska. He has come to Iraq to bear witness and write about how the
US occupation is affecting the people of Iraq, since the media in the
US has in large part, he believes, failed to do so.