Baghdad » Page 3

Tag: Baghdad

The best pizza in Baghdad

Samir was tired, we’d been doing lots of swimming today but I was intent on pizza. We travelled over to 52nd street to a place where we’d eaten yesterday. Samir was impressed by the young women there. But when we arrived the electricity was out and the emergency generator was not working.

I decided to go for ‘The best pizza in Baghdad.’ but Samir wasn’t happy. It was on the other side of town, and near the massive American base, very close to where a suicide-bomber killed many recently. Despite all of this (I’d heard so many good things about the place), I wanted to go. I persuaded Samir to drive.

The pizza parlour was wonderful, authentic, but expensive for Iraqis like Samir, about $4 a pizza. It had been a favourite with the Americans. But the owner wasn’t happy, business was down since the Americans were told they could not eat outside of the heavily fortified ‘green zone’ where they live. They fear they may be poisoned.

I sat enjoying the very authentic pizza. It tasted great… until I started reading the newspaper cuttings on the wall, of the recent suicide attack outside the American camp opposite. It had done $1000 worth of damage to the pizza parlour and killed scores of people. This is ‘Pizza Hut’ Baghdad style. I sat on my stool at the window concentrating less on the wonderful pizza, and more on the variety of strangers pulling up in their cars..

The price of alcohol

We’d gone round to Samir’s brothers home. Mahar was angry and worried. He hasn’t worked since closing his alcohol shop shortly after Iraq was liberated.

In New Iraq it is almost impossible to find alcohol. The shops are targeted by religious extremists, like the Mehdi – Army. Mahar tells me that 3 days ago they killed his neighbour sitting in his alcohol shop. They came in and shot nine bullets into his body. Mahar wipes his worried brow. It is hot and sticky, the electricity is not working again. “His blood is gone with the wind now.. Mr Sean.. he left two daughters and one son.”

Mahar goes into the backroom and comes out with 3 bottles of Spanish wine. “$5 to you Mr Sean… but believe I sell these at $15 each now.. since these killings alcohol has more than doubled.” Samir looks concerned. “This bloody country is going to be like Iran.. I tell you I’m counting the days and minutes for my papers to come through and I’m leaving here.”

Mahar looks sad. Samir is his closest brother. “You know 20 years ago Baghdad was paradise.. we would have never dreamed of going to America.. we had discos, bars, cabaret.” Now Mahar is unemployed, selling alcohol to friends from his back-room. Like many Iraqi’s who work in shops, hotels or drive taxis, Mahar has a degree. His two sons both have degrees, but no-one in Mahar’s family is working.

We buy 3 bottles of wine, 10 cans of beer and one bottle of vodka. Samir looks at Mahar.. “Stop selling alcohol.. it is dangerous.. these religious crazies will kill you.” Last week five Christian alcohol shops were blown up, many people were killed. The alcohol shops were left to burn, in the morning the gangs wrote ‘Shop To Let’ on the charred walls.

A beauty salon was blown up for selling ladies underwear. “You know, the Medhi Army are in control of Iraq now… they say we have an interim government but they are powerless. They are the thieves who returned to Iraq after Saddam, and now you see them giving jobs to their relatives. They are all in the hands of the Americans.. and what have they done for us? Nothing.. I tell you Mr Sean we were a lot better off under Saddam. If you were an honest man Saddam would not touch you. He used to protect the Christians..”

Famous

Samir seems more tired lately. We drive past ‘bombed-out’ buildings in central Baghdad. “This city was so beautiful” Samir laments, “The only building they rebuilt was the Ministry of Oil. What kind of message does that send to the Iraqi people.”

Later Samir plays in the empty restaurant. He is looking older by the day. He comes to sit with me, we drink a beer, he smokes a fag, “Only two packs today,” he smiles. But he is in pain and worried. “My bones hurt Sean.” He looks up at me like a little boy talking to his mother. “Sean I think I am dying… the cancer is eating me. I need to get my blood checked but I don’t want the doctors to tell me something that will ruin the rest of my life. I am so scared.”

“Sean, I miss my wife. You know I still love her.” It has been 3 years since she walked out on him, frustrated with his philandering with foreign women. When she left he asked her to forgive him, she looked at him and left without saying anything, just wiping a tear from her eye. Samir cannot forget this, “I’m not chasing women anymore because of my wife, I keep thinking of her. But she is sick too.. Maybe we should die together in the States.”

“But you know the one thing I wanted to do in this world was to be famous. I couldn’t to it.. I know I am good at what I do, but I couldn’t be famous.” Samir reaches for his glass and drinks his beer. I look around the empty restaurant where he plays for two hours each night. “Maybe this film will make you famous Samir.” He smiles looking back at me. “Maybe..”

Fear

“Put that camera down will you!!” Samir screamed at me today. He normally does this when we are driving through his resistance stronghold neighbourhood, but this time it was in downtown Baghdad. A convoy of American tanks and humvees had passed us and I wanted to get shots of them. I’d always been over-cautious but after 7 months in Iraq I was feeling brave. With the handover of power I stupidly thought that the Americans may be less gung-ho. The situation has cooled since the boiling point in April when kidnapping was rife and beheadings made headline news. So much so that I shaved my beard completely today. Samir was shocked, “Sean you look so beautiful… do not grow another!” he insisted, “You look so much younger.”

But he was less at ease on the road with American tanks. So were the other drivers. The tanks passed and a humvee was swaying from side to side across 4 lanes refusing to let any traffic overtake. This is normal practice since a few passing cars had taken shots at the soldiers in the past. But still, in the sweltering heat people get frustrated. So I pulled the camera out against Samir’s better wishes and got this in the frame. Suddenly 3 soldiers jump to their guns and aim, right at us. “Sean get that fucking camera down .. they’re gonna kill us.” I pulled the camera down and the humvee took off.

Samir grabs hold of my camera, “Can’t you see this prick-looking thing (the microphone) looks like an RPG – (rocket propelled grenade) to them. I lowered my camera .. We continued driving in shock. Samir was shaking. I was stupid. “Don’t you realise, since the handover of power they can do whatever they want, there is no come-back on them, it is their agreement for staying to patrol new Iraq”.

I shuddered to think of the consequences. I began to think about the atrocities I have heard about during the past year, when frightened American soldiers first response is to fire, and ask question’s later. Marla’s workload flickered past my mind. If all that happened when there was come-back on their actions what could happen now? Later in the hotel a journalist confirmed my fears, just 2 days ago an American patrol had let rip into a car killing all. No-one knows the reasons, no-one cares now. Without any investigation what is there to go on? The Americans in such circumstances never stop. It is against rules. Just like when a friend saw a tank cross lanes on a motorway and a passing car had no time to move, the tank went straight over it killing the family inside. Still they never stop, it is against the rules. It is up to relatives to make the claim for compensation. Yet still knowing all this I felt things had changed, after all I’d shaven my beard, a symbolic move after months of itching.

It reminded me of when I first arrived here in January this year.. “Just how dangerous is it out there?” I asked someone in my hotel. “Just keep well away from the Americans” I was told. “You’ve got more chance of being killed by them in this place then by any resistance fighter.”

Later we watch American convoys pass from my hotel balcony, they are pointing their guns at everyone and everything they pass. Samir shakes his heads looking concerned, “Look at them poor American soldiers thousands of miles away from home. They must be so scared.” Fear is the most dangerous thing here.

Gun Rage

Samir came into my hotel room shaken this morning. He was caught up in another bout of road rage, Baghdad style. Despite the new Iraqi Government taking control on the 1st July things are still relatively lawless here. A driver was arguing with another driver both pointing a gun at each other. Samir’s car was sandwiched in, he couldn’t move. The police arrive grab the man’s hand and he starts firing.

The daily perils of living in a country where most households have guns. I remember when I first arrived, it seemed crazy. But now having lived here for over 6 months it makes sense. I would want a gun if I wasn’t living in my well fortified hotel. And when Samir’s neighbour was murdered on her doorstep back in March I took ‘the law’ into my own hands. Fadi, Samir’s 25 year old son had sold the family Kalashnikov thinking things were going to get better. Samir was worried about his son and daughter living in the resistance stronghold neighbourhood with only a hand pistol in the house. So I gave Fadi $120 to buy a Kalashnikov. He got one the very next day. It seemed a sensible thing to do at the time.

But Fadi has temper tantrums. He was involved in a punch up the other week with a driver who cut him up. Thank God he didn’t have his gun with him. There is a hole in the hallway of Samir’s home where he let a round off from the Kalashnikov I bought him. He had been arguing with his sister about the Muslim girl who he hopes to marry. Samir’s family are Christians and he feels it will bring shame on the family if Fadi marries her. He will have to become a Muslim himself in order to marry her. Anyway when the subject was raised, it led to an argument and Fadi grabbed the gun. Samir fought with him trying to pull it off him and a bullets fired into the ceiling. It could have killed either of them. I thought of taking the gun back but then thought about the risks they are living under in this part of Baghdad. In the end I decided to leave him with it hoping that he can marry his Muslim girl without the loss of any life.

I came back to my hotel to find the guard standing proud with a golden plated Kalashnikov. It looked like something out of James Bond. “Where did you get that ?” I asked. “$300 on the street.. it is beautiful isn’t it?” In a funny sort of way it was.