born 1976, political Scientist and freelance journalist
[15/02/2010]
Many of the passengers -and I am no exception- start to anxiously smoke as soon as they are within the Basra Airport, their entry point into Iraq. Others go through the paperwork and the questions of a couple of doctors covered with face masks. They are trying -with dubious efficiency- to carry out the prophylactic measures preventing the spread of the Influenza A virus, hence placing Iraq at the forefront of international medical security in airports. They are also on the honors list in the implementation of the anti-smoking regulations, virtually non-existent in this country. An absolute joy for all smokers.
After ensuring that we are not suffering from any of the listed influenza symptoms, it is time for customs. The entry stamp is put on the passport without any questions. This is tricky, in Arabic and as a surprise that will only be unveiled when we take the flight back home. Immediately after the customs cabin, an American officer awaits. He inspects every page of every passport of every passenger coming his way, while instructing them -there is no option for refusal- to go through an eye scanner.
- "Put your chin up, remove your glasses, look straight at the red light"
- "May I ask what is this for, sir?"
- "It's something very boring, the Iraqi government asks us to do it with all the people entering into the country".
Soldiers Eriksson, Lindberg and Lashovsky do not disguise their weariness while they take, one by one, the digital impressions of dozens of people, they take passport sized photos and they enter -with indifference but without leaving out any detail- their personal information into a database (which is probably in Washington and not in Baghdad). The Iraqi police, numerous but inactive, simply looks through the procedures from a distance. It is nearly impossible to give any credit to the answer given by Private Eriksson. If he is following orders from the Iraqi government, why do the Iraqi police simply watch from a distance while the Americans are doing all the work?
A number of foreign contractors group up and, once they have all reclaimed their baggage, is transported to a convoy of 4x4 cars that leaves the terminal at top speed, breaking the nearly absolute silence of a beautiful and warm winter evening in southern Iraq. They adjust their motors to the rhythm of two helicopters that are flying over the facade of the airport in perfect formation. The foreign contractors are from the “Olives Security Group”, according to the badges on their jackets. They honor their name in the color of their uniforms, while contradicting it by including in them an olive branch. There is not the slightest tension in the air. If they were twelve years younger, they would be a group of teenagers going to camp.
Basra airport is a ghost airport. No coffee, no food, no money exchange... and hardly any people walking down its corridors. There are only American soldiers and Iraqi police, always maintaining a distance between them, surrounded by a few kids who work as bellboys. The Iraqi travelers go back home carrying enormous luggage. Only a bus, a small (much too small) taxi fleet and the jeeps carrying the contractors are allowed access to the doors of the terminal. The people who have just arrived hurry towards a checkpoint, two kilometers away, surrounded by cement walls and barbed wire, in order to meet the people awaiting them. The scene is full of the bustle of families reuniting and ceremonial salutes; with abundance of last minute Duty Free presents. Everything is supervised by an air balloon lined with cameras, floating 100 meters above the ground. Coffee, fruit, chocolates and shouting over who gets transport first. Everything clearly evocative of the entry checkpoints into Palestine in Bethlehem or Jerusalem. The Iraqi army pressures adequately but firmly. The soldiers move quickly in between the cars, knocking on the car's bodywork, raising their voices and asking people to hurry. No suitcase is left without owner, no car allowed to stop in the entry line. Nobody simply looking around. Anyone who is not there for a purpose has to leave immediately. Or park at a sensible distance from the armored vehicles and the perimeter fences of the checkpoint
The road joining Basra airport with the city was asphalted too many years ago and it has an abundance of potholes only equaled by its lack of any type of public lighting. So the locals have to drive blindly and without lines in the asphalt. Not that this makes them drive with less recklessness. Its 5.30 in the afternoon, night is falling in these latitudes and there is not a single streetlamp working. The only light sources are from the cars and the floodlights of the five army checkpoints that you have to cross before getting to the Istiqual Avenue, one of the city's main streets. In front of the Hotel Rumialah there is yet another patrol of the Iraqi army, this time on foot. Five soldiers are combing the two sidewalks. They are covered by two open-top vans, and they are randomly pointing their weapons at the people walking down the street.
The bank of the Ashar river crosses the center of the city. The same cannot be said of the water it should carry to its estuary in Shat Al Arab, the gulf that, at the level of the Fao peninsula, marks the frontier with Iran. Thousands of plastic bottles, chairs, bags, rubble and all kinds of garbage from the market and the hundreds of street stalls of the Shar el Kuwait street have blocked the river's path, turning it into a stagnant, putrid bog.
Next to the stalls selling the latest PlayStation model there are abundant women and children begging and rummaging through the rubbish, trying to find something of value or even something to eat. According to Abdullah Al Maliki, who is not only a board member of the Oil Trade Union of Basra, he also works in an association that is trying to help the children of the street. The estimates are in the range of seven or eight thousand under-16s without parents who take to the streets looking for something to eat. They are without schooling -Abdullah says that many do not even know how to write- or have any health coverage. They are mostly war orphans. Of any of the wars. According to the Iraqi Ministry of Social Affairs and Labor, there are about 4.5 million under aged orphans in Iraq. In August 2009, only 459 where under the tutelage of the state. A state that, in Iraq, is only visible in reconstruction and security, financed by the Americans.
In front of the impressive estuary in Shat Al Arab, that can only be crossed in the center of the city through a military bridge, there are enormous old buildings in ruins. They have become subhuman housings for families who have lost everything and who make their living -in every sense- in the street. Just a few meters away, the Hotel Sheraton of Basra is a glaring contrast to this reality: It is now being grandly reconstructed, after having been bombed, pillaged and burnt down by the crowds in April 2003, with the passivity of the English troops; a fate suffered by most of the buildings of the public administration of the former regime.
Among the most privileged of this underclass, there are a few who are sitting in front of ancient scales. For about 0,10 euros you can know be weighed in the middle of the street and control your diet accordingly.
Men smoking nargile pack the the sidewalk cafes. They assure that they feel secure, without displaying the slightest shadow of criticism or doubt. "A year and a half ago, at this time of the day no one would even think about setting foot on the street. Now the shops open until late, there is life in the streets again, and it is possible to find everything you need for a relatively normal life, with price being the only problem". The driver takes his time and takes us through a short route across the avenue in order to prove the normality of the situation. Pool rooms open until past midnight and people selling bootleg DVDs, like in any Spanish city (with even the same films available). There are dozens of shops where you can buy phonecards, full of youngsters inquiring about any new object. They are insistent, welcoming and friendly.
The bustle of the traffic blends with the noise of the generators and Majeed, the hotel receptionist, starts to complain straight after the first question. We have electricity 8 hours a day, the rest of the day we depend on our own generators. The running water is undrinkable, we can only use it to wash." Nearly seven years after the occupation, the American army and the Iraqi government have been incapable of guaranteeing electricity supply or running water. It would be difficult to find water that tastes more of calcium than the one running out of the hotel taps.
"But Basra is a completely safe place. We can stay in the street until night falls. The militias and the criminals can no longer enter the city. Go out and walk around. Basra is a welcoming city where you do not have to fear anything." Majeed is 21 and even though he assures that he does not fear for his life, he also insists that in Iraq the word future" does not exist. "Waking in the morning, sitting all day waiting for guests to arrive for ridiculous wages. I do not like this life. It is true that I no longer live in fear, but it is also true there are no chances to prosper. Not for me, not for my children. What I really want is to emigrate to Australia. Can you help me?"
As night draws on, packs of wild dogs become visible. They are not dangerous but much more visible than at daytime. They cross the streets, taking apart and scattering piles of rubbish, avoiding the military checkpoints. These checkpoints are also more visible due to the bonfires that the soldiers light to find some warmth, without ceasing to closely inspect every passing car. Many checkpoints have been decorated by the soldiers with little colored light bulbs. There are many flags with Iman Hussein's face flying in houses, shops, columns or trees. We are in the month of Muharram, sacred for the Shiite
There is no mistaking the religious sensitivity that dominates the region. Not only private buildings, like houses or shops, proudly display their identity symbols. But also public buildings, schools, police cars and military checkpoints openly display the symbols of their sectarian ascriptions. The Iraqi national flag is not a common sight at the checkpoints.