Dateline Baghdad: Assignment to Iraq
SALAAM
Life in Baghdad continues apace, despite the rise in tensions across the country although I'm learning to take the disruption all in my stride. Despite the constant reminders that we are in effect, living in a war zone, we attempt to live as normal an existence as possible, accepting the eleventh-hour cancelled meetings and last minute changes of plan as part and parcel. Whatever the calamity, the stock phrase here is, 'Welcome to Baghdad!' - Like, what else did you expect?
It's the same laissez-faire which sees you eating out in the only Chinese in town (yep, there again on Friday night to say farewell to the departing team from UK Customs and Excise) watching tracer fire arc into the night sky as Apache Gunships chase it down above you and F16s mount a combat air patrol throughout the night over your accommodation (against what?!). Or walking around in body armour and accepting armed personal protection officers as part of life.
Friday was a typical "Get on the bus, get off the bus, wait - get on the bus" sort of day. I'd been scheduled to attend the launch of Iraq's Olympic Logo at a football stadium in Baghdad's suburbs presided over by US Amb. Paul Bremer but as we were about to leave, my CP team advised that security outide the venue was too dangerous for us to continue. Thus, I returned to the press centre only to be advised 45 minutes later that the event was back on again.
Off we raced through the checkpoints, through Baghdad to the venue. 30 minutes later, the Goon Show arrived (above), Paul Bremer's travelling circus dropping into the stadium in a US Army Blackhawk with goon-like PPOs making a song and dance all the way to the podium and generally being rude, obnoxious and arrogant to any hack or photographer in the arena. How to make friends and influence people. Now, there's a surprise. Er...not.
On Thursday evening, we attended a party at the base thrown to say farewell to Andy and Jay, our chefs who were due to leave yesterday. As you can see from the above image which I took of the event, it's sometimes difficult to believe we're really in Baghdad although as I've mentioned, being in the Green Zone does tend to skew one's reference somewhat. In essence, most of the Green Zone is the area which housed all of Saddam's ministries and palaces, so it is rather more grand and oplulent than the rest of the city I've seen. Here, all is huge palaces and boulevards, monuments, palm trees and beautiful architecture. We're billeted in a complex which Saddam would gift to visitors - "Here is my spare palace, use it whilst you are my guest".
That's Andy and Jay above in the picture in full local dress along with another partygoer.
Saturday heralded the most wonderful assignment which should illustrate nicely that whilst all the crap is going on out here, there is some positivity to be found.
The British Embassy in downtown Baghdad stands proud amidst the parched lawn, its Royal Crest resplendent. From a distance, it still looks the grand affair that it once was, reflecting the setting sun and gifting depth to its rich hues against the blank canvas of the old-colonial style building on the banks of the Tigris. But look closer and it becomes apparent that the building is in need of considerable cosmetic attention; it is not of a condition befitting sovereign territory abroad.
Because for the past thirteen years, it has stood deserted save for one man.
That man is 73 year old Mehdi Alwan, its caretaker since 1964 and it is soley due to his lonely vigil and tireless, unquestioning loyalty that it stands at all.
As British Army tanks rolled into Kuwait in January 1991, the former deputy head of our Iraqi mission made ready to depart having evacuated the embassy’s staff. As he left, he handed the keys to to Mr Alwan, asking him “Could you look after the embassy for us until our return?”
Mr Alwan took him at his word and did just that – throughout the first Gulf War, through the years that followed and right up to our return in April 2003. And on Saturday, his loyalty was officialy rewarded when he was made MBE at a ceremony in the embassy grounds conducted by Christopher Segar, head of Britain’s Office in Iraq and the man who as deputy head of the former British Mission, made the request of Mr Alwan.
Before an audience of Mr Alwan’s sons, his five grandchildren and other family members and British representatives in the old courtyard at the heart of the embassy, Christopher Segar read out the citation from HM the Queen in flawless Arabic before presenting Mr Alwan with his MBE.
As caretaker and guard he maintained a lonely vigil, looking after the place in everyone's absence without contact or assistance, protecting it from looters and maintaining the property as best he could. When I asked him what motivated him, he shrugged his shoulders matter of factly:
“This embassy is in my blood. For thirty years I have been here - I have to protect it”
We don’t build embassies like this anymore. In 1921, General F.S. Maude, commander of the British forces who captured Baghdad from the Ottoman Turks made it his Divisional Headquarters until the withdrawl of our army when it became our permanent Mission in Iraq. The whitewashed walls of the buildings in the embassy grounds suggest echoes of earlier, happier times – the patioed sunroof overlooking the city on the opposite banks redolent of gin and tonics under a setting sun, barbeques in high summer.
As Mr Alwan escorted me though the embassy grounds, he showed me rooms which had lain untouced for over a decade. The clock stopped at the embassy in 1991 and everything is as it was left. The posters on the walls promoting London, Scotland, Wales are all vintage late eighties. The sun-faded portraits of the Queen which overlook the cobblestone courtyard show a younger, less weary Monarch. And within the old registry, the offices, papers lie atop desks, telexes pinned to the walls. Books line the walls, immaculate first editions from another time perfectly preserved in the dry, arid heat of Iraq’s climate. In the clubhouse, the walls no longer echo to the laughter and conversation which once filled the place, but its piano sits in a corner still and there are glass marks on the dust covered bar.
Above the entrance to the old building the royal crest gleams in the bright sunlight.
Looters came armed with Kalashnikov AK-47s and tried to steal it, but Mr Alwan stood firm after calling in his sons. He told me how the three fought off the armed men and wrested back the crest.
"My two sons and I did everything we could to protect the embassy - four men - they tried to shoot at me. I called my sons. We protected the crest."
Now, Mr Alwan’s son Yasser has assumed responsibility for the building after assisting his father through his lonely vigil.
Even better was the fact that the CP team dropped me back at base in time for the Arsenal v Man U FA Cup semi final which I watched through half-closed eyes as my team fell to bitter defeat against our rivals. I was gutted when the final whistle blew as aside from anything else, I love listening to Ferguson trot out a litany of excuses for his team's lack-lustre performance whenever they lose citing everything but his team as a factor - "It was the ref" or "we should have had a penalty" etc, etc ad infinitum. Still, good excuse as any to repair to the bar and get twatted on beer which costs the princely amount of $1 per large can.
That was after a fantastic night at the Chinese mentioned earlier this entry with the three customs officers who flew out yesterday. I've forged some fantastic bonds with people out here, none more so than those three guys and Martin who I was on my Hostile Regions Course with. We've socialised together a lot these past two weeks and will really notice there absence. The customs guys all had completly different personalities, but they complimented one another and between us all, we made a good team.
We were all joking at dinner, it's amazing how quickly everything here becomes the norm and we were only hlaf laughing when we said how hard it would be to get back to normal. Here in the Greeen Zone, everything is free - there are refrigerators everywhere full up with bottles of mineral water which you just help yourself to - ditto Mars bars and Snickers and muffins. Several people have retunred to England and absent-mindedly taken water from shop firdges and walked out without paying! Ditto the CP teams who pick us up, take our bags, call us 'Sir' and look after us. It will seem strange being able to go out without wearing body armour and a helmet at all times and awfully quiet without the constant gunfire and explosions which echo across the city. The beer - free at parties, $1 a can any other time - and plentiful free Coke, wild cats which seem to be eveywhere and always fighting - it's all part of what makes living in the Green Zone so bizarre. Oh, that and having to wear ID around your neck 24/7 which you have to show 3 times to get out and 3 times again on entry everytime you want to get in or out anywhere.
Yesterday, I had a meeting out of town planned but the escalation in insurgency which saw seven US soldiers killed in Baghdad yesterday meant a 'lockdown' - nobody in or out of the green zone with or without PPOs. The airport came under mortar attack yesterday too, which meant that the flights didn't get out and thus Andy and Jay are still with us. Thus spent the afternoon back at base watchin Millwall beat Sunderland to a place oppiste Man U in the FA Cup Final. Guess who I'll be cheering for!
Am hopeful of returning home next weekend, so I'll be trying to make arrangements for a flight later today. I honestly don't know where the time has gone out here - it's flown past, and everything seems commonplace to me now - part, I guess, of living in a superficial life created within a 4km sq area of Baghdad.
I really feel like I've landed on my feet here, found my calling. I love the unpredictability, the assignments which arise out of nowhere to see me grabbing my camera and jumping into a car to race to the scene before rushing back to file a story. It's such a contrast to my normal pace of work and is the side of freelancing which I really love. The people are great and the social side is fantastic.
I can't deny I'll be sad to see the back of this place - but I've a while to go yet, so no point worrying about it. The other side of the coin is that no matter how much I like working here, I miss my wife so whilst I'll be sad to go, I'm paradoxically looking forward to at least one element of returning.
Trip to the Kurdish north of the country hasn't materialised due to tensions outside the area so I'm hard at work planning the rest of my week. I've a trip away tomorrow on assingment, but I'll blog more as soon as I'm back to my desk.
Il a l-liqa, In sh'Allah
|
|
|
MARHABAH
Went out with the Paras today, army style - which meant I could again dispense with my CP team, riding instead in a low-profile convoy of civillian SUVs (all the rage here) and other non-descripts, all driven and crewed by well-armed uniformed British Army soldiers. Just outside the Green Zone, about 2 klciks from Baghdad International Airport, lies this - Uday Hussein's place of residence before he met with Belial in the depths of Hell. Like all the palaces here (and they are too inumerable to mention) it was the most beautifully designed and construced place. This one was called the floating palace because of the way it looks from a distance, being surrounded by water and accessible only via a specially constructed linkway. Fittingly, it's been taken over, as most have, by ordinary troops who make use of the palaces' many rooms and facilities whilst going about trying to rebuild the infrastructure here.
Uday was possibly the most vile of men amongst the vilest of Saddam's regime, taking women he fancied at will, raping them and frequently torturing them too before despatching them in any number of grisly ways. At another of his palaces which lies within the green zone, he kept a menagerie of tigers and big cats to whom he would feed the women he'd raped. The tigers are still there, but are being cared for by Coalition troops now and their diet is of a more conventional meat. It was somewhat fitting that Uday and his brother, Qusay met their end in such a violent manner and I've yet to meet an Iraqi who didn't celebrate at length when news broke of their demise.
Things are very tense here at the moment and there seems to have been a marked increase in the number of attacks, many of which never get reported due to their widespread occurence, and to be honest, the sheer volume of them - there are so many each day, they'd fill a newspaper by themselves. Last night was particularly bad with a number of gun battles between coalition troops and terrorists, as well as a number fo rocket and mortar attacks. One mortar landed particularly close to my accommodation last night whilst I was getting ready to go out, shaking the foundations. It'sa little bizarre too, walking though a balmy evening on the way to a restaurant, wearing body armour and a NATO-issue helmet but then, it's surprising just how quickly one adjusts to life out here.
Had a great evening with the guys from UK Customs and Excise, going to a Chinese restaurant within the Green Zone. I say Chinese because that's how it was styled, but the waiters were Iraqis and there was no Chinese styling anywhere to be seen. The menu was somewhat basic in what it offered - no crackers or seaweed for example - but the food was lovely and made a pleasant change from eating in the Mess. The opnly downside was its location directly next to the US Army Heliport which had taking off and landing incessantly just 20 yards away! No matter, we walked back to base and made for the bar. Someome must have been playing with the elasticity of time because it was suddenly 02:00 and I was very, very drunk!
We're losing our chef this week - he's been promoted and is on the move within the Army - so another exuse for a night out! He'll be sorely missed as not only is he a great fella and brilliant company, he's an outstanding cook and one of the army's greatest assets - his breakfasts are something else. What a delight to wander to the mess with a hangover and find eggy bread and a full English waiting!
It's his leaving do tonight but luckily tomorrow is our 'half day' so a lay in to recover. Only a small one mind, as the US has decided that tonight is the night the clocks go forward here, so tomorrow we'll be back to living three hours ahead of UK time. Another leaving do to go to tomorrow - there seems to be one every night!
I took this image on the way back from the Red Zone yesterday as an example of just how incongruous life here is. I called it 'Abbey Road - Baghad Style' after the Beatles album cover. Don't be fooled by the traffic lights - they might be functioning, but they are roundly ignored by everybody, meaning the roads are utter bedlam. Society here is still lawless, so cars which look barely drivable race around the streets, crossing juntions and ATS at speed and without pause. Children run across motorways and highways, dodging cars, and people regularly drive contra to the traffic flow if it suits them. It's all rather chaotic and not a little worrying at times but it tends to focus one's mind!
Got a trip to the Kurdish north of the country next week which I'm looking forward to as it will show me yet another different side to this beautiful country. It's changing here, inch by inch and the benefits are visible even this soon after the war. Women in particular are becoming ever more confident and there are some stunningly beautiful girls walking around freely and sans chador and hajib, having fun and just being female. All trace of Saddam has been removed from the streets here and it's as if he never existed - the countless busts, murals and images of him which lined every boulevard and highway are gone, torn down by Iraqis celebrating the freedom his absence has gifted them. It can't last of course - it takes time, but gradually, laws and protocols will have to be enforced just so that society can function properly again.
I'm looking forward to whatever the next week throws at me and although I have but a loose agenda, I can guarantee one thing - whatever comes my way, it will be something different to anything I've ever experienced at home. It's that kind of place, Baghdad.
Il a l-liqa, In sh'Allah
|
|
|
POVERTY
Back into the red zone today where having shaken off my CP team, I wandered over to a city of cardboard and corrugated iron shelters built on wasteland. This is what these kids call life - parents so poor they can't afford housing, fashioning a roof and walls out of whatever they can salvage.
The kids came running out when they saw me approaching with the Nikon on my shoulder and the number of them grew as the seconds passed. Walking away, they ran after me like I was the pied piper of Hamelin.
This guy is 'The Gardener' - charged with tending the gardens around the Borders Enforcement complex which lies next to the shanty town. How much life, how much character in that face?
Everywhere I walk with a camera over my shoulder here, I'm approached by men asking me to take their photos. People are so eager to please, so welcoming, so apparently desperate to be liked. I've encountered similar emotions in individuals in my life, but never a whole society - it's like a Pavlovian response to contact with westerners. The secular nature of that society here means women are not often seen and most in this area wear the chador with head scarf - all of the places and roles women occupy around the world are here done by men - and they walk in pairs and hold hands constantly. It was a little disconcerting at first, but I'm getting used to it now.
If I'm honest, the bombs, rockets and mortar attacks which mingle with the staccato sound of gunfire to form the soundtrack to life out here were a little disconcerting at first, too - but I realised I'd turned a corner today when an explosion trocked the courtyard as I was standing there chatting to the Customs men and none of us so much as flinched. Then my CP team returned to drive us away from the secure environment of the compound where we'd been and I realised why we've been provided with armed bodyguards and an armoured SUV with bulletproof glass:
That wasn't there when we set off this morning - don't fancy the insurance premiums come renewal next year!
The learning curve here continues, every day heralding something different, some other twist on a life which appears oh so normal on the surface but which flows with a subtle subtext colouring every facet of existence. I feel like I'm only now just getting into my stride, understanding some of the nuances of living out here and the skewed frame of reference which living in the Green Zone gives.
It's laughable really. Here we are in what is ostensibly a secure, sterile environment, and where access is denied to all but Coalition members, military and residents. What people forget sometimes is that 4,000 Iraqis also live here - they just happened to live within the 4km sq lines which were arbitrarily drawn around central Baghdad and deemed a 'safe zone' for members of the CPA and its support staff. Given that there are no accurate records from Saddam's time, none of those Iraqis have been security vetted meaning that an attack is in theory as likely to come from within as without the zone.
I Got a call from my editor today asking me if I'd mind extending my stay so it looks likely that I'll be here for at least another week. That was coupled with another call telling me that there's an assignment to come back out to Basra waiting for me once I'm back in the UK - surely it would make more sense to fly me the 300 miles from Baghdad and do it whilst I'm out here? But no. That would make far too much sense - and that would never do.
In sh'Allah
|
|
|
FACES
Today saw me finally swapping the security of the Green Zone for the real Iraq today, travelling to the police training complex in the south west of the city with members of HM Customs and Excise who are out here training Iraqi customs officers. Awoke to cloudless skies and bright sunlight again which seems a little bizarre given the time of year and the reality of the weather back home but I wasn't complaining when the mercuty nudged its way well past 90deg F!
I don't think I'll ever get used to the idea of having a close protection team driving me around in an armoured SUV with backup. I'm a risk taker by nature and the idea of being tied to the Green Zone unless accompanied is anathema to me, especially when there are journos and snappers out here working and travelling under their own steam. This isn't the sort of journalism which fires me - I want to get out there where the real human stories are.
That said however, today has been a revelation and the people I met today have all made lasting impressions on me. That's Ezra above, or Sara, a 29 year old Iraqi customs officer. Like almost every Iraqi I've met, she has a tale to tell and hers is somewhat typical. She was beaten and abused by an alcoholic husband who left her, taking their three children and leaving her to fend for herself under a regime where women's rights were an alien concept. She asked me to take her for my wife 30 minutes after meeting me, although I suspect her desire to seek a new life in England may have been the driving factor rather than any attraction to me! She also asked one of the UK Customs team and when he told her he was already married, she said, "That's OK, I be wife number 2"! Even that however pales next to the guy I met this afternoon who has four wives and eleven children!!
The things I've seen and the people I've met today have moved me profoundly. Their humility and desire to please is humbling and seeing some of the abject poverty that exists here just takes your breath away. They are such a warm, welcoming people and several made an impression on me. I interviewed one of Saddam's Generals, a
man lucky to be alive given his opposition to the regime and who was one of
the first to be asked to join the Coalition after the war. That man is General Khalaf Jassim Hamud Al-Salmany (above), the head of Iraq's border police and customs. He is a delightful fellow, warm, jovial and a great fan of the British. He was commissioned in 1968, saw active service for the eight year duration of the Iran-Iraq war after which he was put under surveillance by Saddam's intelligence service for being against the regime. He was sidelined in the military and demoted and after the US forces arrived in Baghdad was one of the first of Saddam's officers to be invited to join the CPA.
Our interpreter is a delightful guy called Mustafa who should also be dead - his car took the full blast of a car bomb in January, killing his passenger. That's him in the baseball cap and glasses in the picture which I took as the UK guys were role-playing with the Iraqis, teaching them the finer points of how to stop and search a car at a port of entry.
Another guy who made an impression was the 'Chai man' or tea man, a charismatic old guy who sits in a little kitchen all day making pot after pot of Iraqi tea which he serves in tiny glasses frequently. Some of his perfumed brews were wonderful and like everyone else I met, he was warm and utterly submissive to our will. This is him at work, a job he's held since I was but a twinkle in my father's eye. How I long to return to an Iraq, self-governing and populated by a confident and driven people reaping the rewards that they so richly deserve.
Finally today, I leave you with a contrasting image which shows the opposite side of the relaxed and happy people above. Under Saddam, there were few guns in public - it's only since his demise they seem to have come out of the woodwork and as fast as Coalition forces relieve them of their weapons, they are replacing them again. This man carries a Chinese variant of the AK47, banned under the Geneva convention due to its permanently-fixed bayonet.
You can't see it in this cropped image but in the original, you can clearly see the pistol which he has carelessly stuck inside the waistband of his trousers. Doesn't he look pleased with himself?
I'm picking up more and more snippets of Arabic whilst I'm here and am anxious to learn more. As in any foreign land, the people are impressed by an effort to converse in their native tongue, even if it's just the odd 'please', 'thank you' and 'goodbye.
As I said earlier in this blog, every day here is an education and my appreciation for all I see grows exponentionaly. The dichotomy between rich and poor is monstrous and some of the conditions I saw today in the shanty towns which litter Baghdad's suburbs should not exist in a caring world.
I love this country and its people.
Shukran, Salaam, In sh'Allah
|
|
|
FLIGHT OF FANCY
Well it's been an interesting few days to say the least culminating in this morning's flight of fancy to the Iranian border from where I have just returned. I was part of the press pool travelling with CPA Administrator, Ambassador L. Paul "We Got 'Im" Bremer and as you might expect with anything the US organises, it was one hell of a show.
We flew to the border from Baghdad in four Blackhawk helicopters with an escort of Apache gunships and air cover provided by USAF F16 fighter jets and the hour or so's flight there was a lesson in superlative low level flying. With the six helos flying in formation, my mind's DJ span up Ride of the Valkyries and we had all the ingredients of a low-rent 'make-your-own' version of Apocalypse Now.
The weather was gorgeous and the vistas breathtaking as we passed at treetop height over Baghdad, across green fields and desert which eventually gave way to some stunning mountainous terrain. When we eventually arrived at the border crossing (one of only three on the Iranian frontier which are open) it was like a small army were on site - which in some respects I guess was true as members of the US Army armoured division spread out with their hardware, backed by members of Bremer's security detail.
At the border patrol, Bremer held talks with members of the local area (including Sheikh Multaq above who I thought bore an uncanny resemblance to Bruce Forsyth) and after a short photocall, we were shown around the immigration point and its new computer system. No, this picture isn't some disenfranchised refugees but half of the press pool en route from the border HQ to the frontier:
This place continues to enchant and surprise in equal measure. I've fallen in love with the atmosphere, especially of an evening where the Muezzin which calls the faithful to prayer echoes across the city as the soundtrack to a setting sun. The area I'm in is a curious mix of modern and old, Arabic and western, expected and incongruous. All around are beautiful buildings which I recognise from news footage of the 'shock and awe' campaign, their facades altered with surgically-precise delivery of explosive ordnance. Perfection stands amidst the rubble, yet every building a street bears the scars of war and the prolific sentries, check points, watchtowers, razor wire and sandbags are redolent of a cross between a max security penitentiary and France shortly after it's liberation form Germany in WWIIs final days.
It's something akin to a film set in the green zone - on the surface, everything appears normal but 'sidearm envy' appears commonplace as everyone is armed. The soldiers and their countless Humvees, sure, but so are countless people in civvies, each sporting a pistol on his or her hip. You're not dressed without a Sig Sauer 229 - don't leave home without it! The vehicles are all of US origin, SUVs and big Fords dominating and somewhat predictably, Dollars are the currency but there's nothing to spend them on. Being British in the Green Zone is a lonely occupation.
The US troops are without exception a delight, polite, deferential and jovial. These three guys are from Ft Bragg and due to go home soon, hence the grins:
Evenings have been great, even better since I discovered that four of the people I did my Surviving Hostile Regions course with are all out here. There's nothing to do of an evening except drink so every day seems to herald an excuse for a party or social gathering - a joining party, leaving party, 'fell over in the street' party. The weather's been fantastic gifting some delicous sunsets and this building seems to benefit most of all. It's on the way to the International Press Centre and used to be one of the Ministries under Saddam's rule:
Everyday is an education here, each imparting something new and I feel that I could spend an eternity here and still not know of everything the country can offer. It's going to be a long, slow process but with the marshes being reflooded and the rebuilding - of infrastructure, government and economy visibly taking place, Iraq is better placed than ever to take control of its future. As they say over here,
Mabruk al Iraq al Jadeed. Aash al-Iraq!
|
|
|
GREETINGS FROM BAGHDAD
Before I say anything else, thank you to everybody who has left me sweeties, or comments wishing me luck - so far at least, those well wishes are working although the bloody mozzies aren't taking any notice!
I left home at 18:00 on Tuesday and arrived in Baghdad on Thursday at about 10:00 GMT after the most tortuous of journies. Flying out from RAF Brize Norton, we were awoken at 01:30 for an 02:00 check in leading to an 04:00 departure. Just 50 of us (47 soldiers and 3 civillians) boarded an RAF Lockheed Tri Star widebody airliner which gave us some space to get our heads down on the 4.5 hour flight to RAF Akrotiri (back again after just 4 weeks!). Landing there at about 09:50 local, we then had to wait until 16:30 for our connecting flight to Basra.
This element was courtesy of one of the RAF's C130 Hercules transporters, the only aircraft suitable for carrying passengers and which is also equipped with defensive Electronic Counter Measures and flares to protect against Surface to Air missiles. The 3.5 hour flight was in a spartan, windowlless cabin, sat on canvas webbing with just a pair of ear plugs issued on boarding to protect against the intrusive noise of the four engines. The hull is a jungle of exposed cables and metalwork running fore to aft, and the flight is what can only be described as 'lively'. The approach to Basra was flown tactically, and in utter darkness, with ALL internal and external lights extinguised, the aircraft banking hard from side to side in a helter-skelter fashion to make it harder for anyone on the ground hoping to ruin our day. Landing at 21:00 local, we then had to sleep on a cot in the departure hall until catching another Herclules for the one hour flight north to Baghdad the following morning.
There, luggage was moved directly from the Herc to a car park and dumped on its pallet somewhat unceremoniously by a fork lift truck as we were told "Find your luggage and take it." Thankfully, from that point on, life got somewhat easier.
The four man armed close protection team provided to escort me to the 'Green Zone' were drawn straight from central casting - comfortable attire, curly ear pieces and dark wrap around shades set off with a small aresnal of weapons and equipment - sidearms, grenades and smoke allied to H & K G53 assault rifles - low profile they ain't. I was then escorted to an armoured 4 x 4 with blacked out windows which two of the team accompanied me in, the others taking another vehicle to act as back up on the drive into Baghdad.
It's really the most amazing place here and I can't help but feel a certain love for the environment and its people. There's a certain charm to the buildings, the wide boulevards and the fabulous palm trees and other fauna which proliferate throughout the city. Being based in the 'Green Zone' means I can't travel outside of it without a CP team but within means sanitised and secure and I've access to a car which means I can travel unaccompanied. The perimeter is bordered by concrete blast walls some 20 feet tall and three feet thick and these also protect every major building as well as shorter waist high versions making ultra slow slalom approaches necessary to the countless military checkpoints dotted around the capital.
It's a sobering thought knowing that the thousands of soldiers patrolling within the green zone and manning the check points will shoot first and ask questions later if you approach at anything other than walking pace when driving around - it's certainly seen me kerb my speed!
The temperature is in the high 80s with a relentless sun burning from cloudless skies every afternoon, but most of the vehicles are air conditioned making life a little easier. Similarly, my accomodation, whilst basic is secure and comfortable, being a trailer with an aircon unit and a cot inside a UK military base in the city. Despite the overwhelming security though, the city is under attack every day with rockets and mortars being fired from outside the zone over the wall and countless gun battles and attacks outside of it. A car bomb 2 miles away woke me up this morning and the sound of gunfire is the soundtrack to most nocturnal activities. It all feels a little bizarre, sitting here with broadband internet access in the well apointed international press centre which in common with most buildings here, bears countless pock marks and scars from the war.
Thursday night was spent with the British contingent from the Coalition Provisional Authority (CPA) and some Finns from the mass graves team out here - three of the biggest fellas I've ever seen. They spoke fantastic English, were highly entertaining, and drank more than I've ever seen anyone put away. Today has been fairly relaxed but the rest of the week is going to be manic, with trips to the Kurdish north of the country and some of its more remote regions. I'm being embedded with the US Army for a night patrol at some stage and I'm hoping to get out and see some of the 'real' Iraq too, talking to those who live in the villages and deserts that surround the settled areas.
Got a barbecue to go to tonight but everyone works a 6 and a half day week and the soldiers are dry so there won't be any drunken revellry here. The prospect of a rocket or mortar attack at any time also ensures that drinking is something that you only ever do in moderation unless under a 'hard roof'.
I've been rather limited so far in where I can go, but from tomorrow, the real work starts and I'll be travelling so I hope to be able to write again with a more informative and interesting entry on the real situation here instead of the anodyne, stuff you've just read. As Salam Pax would say...Laytah.
|
|
|
[first page] [previous page]
powered by
20six.co.uk
