What if

It’s funny how things work out. Today was panning out to be a bit of a wasted day. Being Friday, no one was about and I was exhausted and having my first brush with the runs. I actually stayed in my hotel room until the late afternoon, feeling too ill to eat and too weak to go walking about Baghdad. I read the entirety of “What if?” a book of counterfactuals written by eminent historians (what might have happened if Socrates had died at Delium, what if the Chinese had discovered the Americas first, what if Lenin had not arrived at Finland Station in 1917… etc.). I’d grabbed it randomly at the airport, but it is actually very appropriate reading material in Iraq which has many possible futures with widely divergent paths, and events in the next few months are likely to decide which path is followed.

Finally I forced myself out on the street, and wandered down to CPT’s house. They had another guest, an Iraqi doctor who’s three teenage sons are in detention down in Umm Qasr. I heard the full account of what happened (also see CPT 1 and 2): In early August a US Humvee smashed through their front garden gate and soldiers began spraying bullets at the house. Finally, after two hours of unsuccessfully calling out for them to stop, the doctor bravely went to front room and shouted “I’m opening the door”. He got an affirmative response but, as he reached to open the door, it was kicked in. The soldiers charged into the house, beating the family with the butts of their rifles and handcuffing them. Bullets had smashed open a big jar of olive oil which was split all over the kitchen floor, and the doctor and his family were forced facedown onto the oily floor, with soldiers standing on their heads. The doctor’s nephew, who is seriously mentally disabled, was traumatised by the experience and, trying to run away, was tackled and pummelled by soldiers, in the process receiving a serious slash on his leg from broken glass. The soldiers interrogated the doctor for some time, repeatedly asking him if he was a certain person, to which he kept replying (he speaks decent English) that the man lives a few doors down the road – the soldiers had got the wrong address. Finally the soldiers let the doctor treat his nephew’s cut leg and left, but took his three eldest sons with them “for questioning”. For a month the doctor heard nothing about his sons, and asked CPT for help. They intervened with the CPA and learnt that the sons were down in Umm Qasr (in the far south). They went down to visit them, and were told by the military that there were no charges against the sons and they should be released. Now, a month later, the sons are due to start their university terms today, but they still haven’t been released. CPT and the doctor visited again last week, but received no explanation why they hadn’t been released. Iraqis are being treated as if they had no rights. The doctor also explained how expensive medicines are today, without government subsidies, so that many of his patients can’t afford even basic drugs such as antibiotics.

Next I went to hang out with Voices in the Wilderness for a while, and met two new members, both in their 70s, who’d just arrived from Australia. Michael, an Irish guy, was heading out to help edit Iraq Today, an English language newspaper that was set up by the cousin of my Iraqi friends in London, so I took the opportunity to go over and meet them. It was very opportune. They were lacking an editorial for the weekly paper which had to go to the printers the following morning, and suggested that I write one on the debt. It’s being published on Monday, and is read by pretty much every journalist in Iraq, and many Iraqi politicians, so I’m hoping that it will result in some good contacts and invitations to meet with people. The downside is that I was up into 3.30am writing it!