Spiraling Into
Occupied Iraq
By Dahr Jamail
06 November, 2004
Dahrjamailiraq.com
The
flight from Jordan feels all too normal
until we arrive over Baghdad
International Airport. The nose of the plane dips, the left wing drops
and the downward spiral begins-dropping us 4,000 feet per minute into
the inferno that is occupied Iraq.
Rather than an in-flight
magazine, a lonely card is available to read in the seat pocket. It
begins with:
For those
of you who have not traveled with us before, you need to be aware that,
for your security and safety, and not for your comfort, we do a spiral
decent into Baghdad.
This is carried out to avoid any risk from anti-aircraft missiles or
small arms fire
The airport is filled
with nearly as many foreign security guards from Global
than passengers. A large influx of Third Country Nationals, looking
as though they are either Sri Lankan or from India, is rounded up onto
the Kellogg Brown & Root bus to go work jobs which could be done
by Iraqis.
I nervously wait
until another small bus appears and takes me to the front checkpoint
passing
signs for the soldiers that reminds them to have their weapons ready
and flack jackets on as they enter the unsecured area which
is most of Iraq outside of the U.S. camps.
It is tense as we
unload
a huge car bomb detonated here just a few days ago killing
9 people. One of the security guards approaches me and says, You
dont want to be here long. There are bad things going on here.
Very bad things.
I look up to see
a line of cars being searched as they attempt to enter the pick-up area
and take a deep breath when I see Abu Talat. He approaches with a big
smile while waving at me as he walks up to be searched. The man is undeterred.
We hug and share
countless cheek kisses as per Arab custom. Despite the extremely tense
atmosphere at the checkpoint, we cant contain our joy and it bubbles
out as laughter and more hugs and kisses. This entire trip is worth
it just to see my dear friend.
We quickly load
my luggage into his car and drive out-passing some men in a BMW (the
favored vehicle of criminal gangs), who ask us if I just flew in
Abu
Talat tells them he came to pick up a friend, and asks me for a pen
and paper and quickly writes down their license plate while telling
me, That could be kidnappers
there is not another flight
after yours. I will watch to see if they follow us.
While driving past
three burnt car bodies from the recent suicide bomber, he says, Everyone
is being kidnapped now. It is a booming business here since there are
no jobs. You must be extremely careful Dahr.
Humvees and Bradley
fighting vehicles are perched along the road, with their weapons aimed
directly at us and other cars as we pass
this is occupied Iraq.
We drive perilously close to a huge Bradley with its growling treads
and I point to it thinking Abu Talat may not see how close he is. He
laughs and says, This is our daily life
you know this. How
do you think Americans would like to have tanks on their streets aiming
guns at them? For us, this is normal.
I breath and quickly
remember the daily life here
driving to avoid craters in the road
left by lethal Improvised Explosive Devices, heavy weapons aimed at
cars, scorched palm trees along the road, crime running rampant and
the constant threat of being caught in the wrong place at the wrong
time by a gunfire or attack on a U.S. patrol. I allow myself to surrender
completely to the mindset of Inshallah (if God wills it.) It is
the only solace here.
On the suggestion
of Abu Talat, we go visit some friends of ours
a family whose father/husband
was beaten into a coma while in US military custody. It is safer this
way because as my trusted interpreter/fixer tells me, Noone knows
you are here yet-so this is the best and maybe only time to go places.
Yallah, we go now.
We talk with the
wife and daughters while the electricity cuts off again and again-they
tell me how they just finished a stint of 72 hours straight with no
electricity. One of the daughters tells of how while in school the other
day she listened to rockets flying over her building. This is
a war here, we are living like animals, she says wearily, How
long can this continue?
We mustnt
stay long and are off to run errands before I go find a hotel. Every
moment finds us watching to see if we are followed-the kidnapping has
become out of control. He explains that even people who give information
about westerners to crime gangs can earn $500. In a place with 70% unemployment,
this is the only lottery. Just like in any economically depressed area,
more and more folks are becoming willing to take a shot at the jackpot.
The deep red sun
peers through the pollution as the breaking of the fast approaches (it
is Ramada). We go to a few stores to pick up supplies for me and Abu
Talat tells me not ever to speak English in public
we are both
on the lookout, ever careful
for the safety of both of us.
Iraq has again transformed
into a different country
as had happened between my previous two
trips. Between November 03 and late January 04, other journos
and I were able to ride around together, walk the streets, even sometimes
at night. We shared the same hotel without fear of kidnapping or car
bombings.
During my last trip
this was transformed into one westerner with one interpreter, and rarely
more than that. A rogue band of us stayed in a dive hotel off the map
and kept our heads down, and didnt do too much traveling around
the city without an interpreter. Car bombs had become the norm, and
the mood of Iraqis had grown sullen and bitter.
Now, today
it
is yet another country. As I type this a gun battle of automatic weapons
rattles down the street, Falluja has been sealed prior to imminent attack
(as it was on the day I entered Iraq for my last trip, April 4th), and
the mood in Baghdad is tense with gloomy expectation. The feeling is
that of a war zone, people are downtrodden, tense and angry, chaos reigns
and nobody is safe
anywhere.
All this against
the backdrop of the recent news of another four years with Mr. Bush
and his junta. Now the people of Iraq prepare to slide further into
the hell that is occupied Iraq as the siege of Falluja looms over Baghdad
as a heavy, damp night settles over this once magnificent capital city.
Dahr Jamail
is one of the very few independent journalists reporting from occupied
Iraq.
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