| |
Defiant
sheikhs and deadly shakedowns
By Nir Rosen
BAGHDAD - The road west from Baghdad to Ramadi and Fallujah is closed for an
hour near the town of Khaldiya, a dusty assortment of small brick structures
sticking out of the rocky desert hills. A long convoy of colorful trucks bound
for Jordan is lined up, shimmering in the sun, the drivers squatting outside in
the shadows of the cabs. Several hundred feet in front, a green Bradley armored
personnel carrier and two armored Humvees block the road, soldiers waving
threateningly from behind their turrets at anyone who approaches. A tank covers
the bridge ahead of the first truck. Explosions and exchanges of fire are heard
in the far distance. Eventually, the Bradley swivels around, throwing sand
behind it as it climbs a dune with the Humvees following, allowing traffic to
resume. The waiting trucks and taxis that have accumulated start their engines
and resume driving, but remain huddled together like a herd of tense cattle
fearing the dangers of the western Iraqi hinterlands.
A hundred and sixty kilometers west of Baghdad a left turn off the highway
leads to dirt roads passing through fecund fields fed by the Euphrates. Sheep
and cows drink from the river in the shade of towering date-palm plantations.
Sheikh Saad Mushhan Naif al Hardan's village of Albu Aitha is a collection of
family compounds nearly hidden by the verdant fauna kept fertile by the waters
of the river. The sheikh is draped in black and gray robes, his face partially
concealed by a white headscarf crowned with a black rope. His small keen eyes,
thick arching brows and mustache lie still, waiting for an emotion to animate
them. He is joined by his three cousins, a lawyer, a history professor and a
history teacher. Shoes are removed at the entrance to the guest hall. The men
line up to shake hands and welcome their guests, who sit on cushioned benches
across from the hosts, while a younger man, one of their children, brings a
glass of water to be sipped and passed on. The 
sheikh has recently returned from the hajj to Mecca, and guests welcome his
return, blessing his hajj and wishing that all his sins be forgiven.
The sheikh avoids conversation. "La yisah al kalam ila baad al taam," he
says. (Our words will not be true until after we eat.) A basin is brought out
with soap and water for guests to wash their hands. A colorful plastic mat is
spread on the floor, on which is centered a large tin platter of rice and meat,
surrounded by smaller bowls of sliced vegetables and chicken. Large thin round
bread is piled up on the mat as hosts and guests sit cross-legged around it. A
spoon is brought out for the Western guest out of respect for his perceived
inability to eat with his hands, though when he finally plunges his fist into
the greasy rice, the hosts are flattered. "Ahhh," they say with pleasure.
Guests are forced to eat well after their hosts have finished, and only then
the sheikh relents, deciding that he has been sufficiently honored by their
appetites and they by his generosity. The wash basin is brought out again for
the hands and face. Back on the benches against the wall, Iraqi tea is brought
out; thin glasses that curve inward erotically are nearly half-filled with
sugar and dark tea. The room echoes with the sharp tingling of spoons mixing
the sugar, and after the third glass is sipped dry, conversation can begin.
As anywhere, traffic on the road is the ice-breaker. The sheikh and his cousins
agree that the road is closed daily because of attacks and fighting, and he
shrugs off the inconvenience. Since 1995, the sheikh has led the Aithawi tribe,
the largest sub-tribe (he claims) of the Dulaimi tribe, one of Iraq's largest
(every sheikh in Iraq claims that his tribe is the largest). In fact, the
western province of Anbar was once called Liwa Adulaimi in recognition of the
tribe's regional dominance. The Aithawi trace their tribe to Aitha, a sheikh in
the Anbar more than 200 years ago. The current sheikh, Saad, refuses to
enumerate his tribe's manpower. It is the tribal equivalent of classified
information. The enemy must not know the potential force his tribe can wield.
In this case the enemy is the Americans.
The Dulaimi tribe, whose lands reach from the Saudi border to the Syrian border
and up to the outskirts of Baghdad in Abu Ghraib, is just as recalcitrant in
the face of occupation today as it was nearly a century ago during the 1920
uprising against the British occupation when Sheikh Saad's grandfather, Hardan
Hamid, head of the Aithawi branch of the Dulaimi, took his five brothers and
rode south to Kut with all the fighting men his tribe could muster to face the
invading British army. "The British had more advanced weapons and better
tactics," Sheikh Saad says, and to this day his relatives are buried near Kut.
Sheikh Hardan retreated to his tribal lands, fighting all the way. "When the
British reached Anbar," Saad continues, "we told them that the only way Anbar
would fall and they could occupy us was if they killed or arrested at least two
of out sheikhs." The British took the advice of the Anbar leaders, killing
Sheikh Sabar of the Albu Nimer tribe and arresting Sheikh Hardan, imprisoning
him in India for six years. "Then the British occupied the Anbar," Sheikh Saad
concludes, adding with pride that Anbar was the last province to fall to the
Americans (though since they did not have a Jordanian or Saudi or Syrian front,
this also makes sense).
"The British occupiers befriended the tribal leaders," Sheikh Saad says. "This
is the key to winning the people. They understood our traditions, unlike the
Americans now. The British did not surround homes and break into them. They
consulted sheikhs and respected them, and after they occupied all of Iraq there
was no more resistance." The American occupiers today, Sheikh Saad maintains,
"push people to the ground and step on their heads. They arrest the relatives
and wives of wanted men and hold them hostage. They are holding 100,000 Iraqis
in their prisons. Iraqis have lost their dignity, and for this reason the
resistance grows."
Iraqis are incandescent over rumors of their women being held prisoner by
Americans. Sheikh Saad tells of three women imprisoned as hostages in Khaldiya
because their husbands were wanted by the Americans. "I went to speak with the
American commander in Falluja, who called the commander in Khaldiya. I told the
commander, 'If you don't release these women you should arrest all the men in
Anbar, because there will be an uprising.'" Sheikh Saad says that three hours
later the women were released, and adds: "The British never arrested women."
The sheikh claims ignorance about who the resistance is, but explains that "for
us as the people of Anbar, revenge is an important tradition. If they kill one
of our men we have to kill at least one of their soldiers. An eye for an eye
and a tooth for a tooth."
Last year, at 7 in the morning on July 20, Sheikh Saad was arrested with 85 of
his men in an operation that took one hour, using, Sheikh Saad claims, more
than 120 vehicles and helicopters. Sheikh Saad scoffs: "Like it was a real
battle, but they met no resistance from us. Two of the men they arrested were
completely handicapped. They accused me of belonging to an organized group
called Nur Mohammed [Light of Mohammed] that was leading the resistance with
the support and financing of Saddam [Hussein] and bringing in mujahideen [jihad
fighters] from Syria, and they said 60 percent of the attacks in this area
originated in Albu Aitha, so I must know about them, but none of it was true.
Their method is to arrest many people and hope at least to find something.
Until now they have no accurate information about the resistance." Sheikh Saad
was held for 12 days, but the rest of his men were held for a month and five
are still in detention in the Abu Ghraib and Um Qasr prisons. "If Americans had
not behaved the way they did there would be no resistance," the sheikh says.
"Their behavior and broken promises increase the resistance."
The sheikh pauses to contemplate, looking to the side. His cousin, a plump,
narrow-eyed professor of Arabic history in a private university in Baghdad,
confidently elaborates that "the British were clear about their goals. It was a
real occupation. The goal was to divide the Ottoman Empire and occupy Iraq. The
Americans came for many things and many reasons. The first reason was the
liberation of Iraq, and this word 'liberation' implies that the country was
occupied. But Iraq was not occupied, it was ruled by Iraqis. The second reason
was weapons of mass destruction, and they found none. And now we are occupied,
not liberated. They promised the Iraqis many things, and until now they did not
fulfill anything. One was to rebuild Iraq, and you can see on the road on your
way here that it has not happened." He pauses for air, and then chortles:
"Liberate Iraqis from Iraqis? If they were occupied, then why didn't they
overthrow the government?"
The example of the 1991 Shi'ite uprising in southern Iraq that followed
Saddam's defeat in the first Gulf War and was called the Shaaban intifada, for
the month in which it started, receives no credulity and only dismissive laughs
from the cousins. "The target and victims were not the regime," the professor
says, believing his own lies, "it was innocent people and they were led by
thousands of Iranians. It was not an intifada, it was the destruction of
southern cities, houses, schools. They couldn't reach the regime, so they
targeted local leaders like police chiefs."
The lawyer adds that "it was the second stage of the American war, to continue
the American goals". The professor assumes a hurt tone. "We trusted the
Iranians, and even sent our fighter jets there for safety before the war, and
we never imagined the Iranians would betray us." (These are the same Iranians
who only three years before ended an eight-year war with Iraq.)
The sheikh rejoins the revision of Iraqi history, explaining that "under the
previous regime we all had equality. We could all study in the university and
succeed depending on the degree we achieved. The one exception was the security
forces, which went to certain tribes. But I don't want to talk about the
previous regime. What's gone is gone. Saddam disliked the Dulaimi tribe and we
had nobody in high positions in his government, because Saddam feared we would
overthrow him. The Americans told me that I am the only sheikh in Anbar who did
not visit their bases and work with them. They want me to help them against my
people? This won't happen. And this is why they make problems for me."
The lawyer leans forward, his face long and gaunt, unlike his better-fed
relatives, and asserts: "Iraq is the cemetery of all its occupiers. The
Americans are occupiers, not liberators. Iraqis are not stupid, they know the
truth. This proves that the only thing that works in this country is one party
or a dictatorship." He rejects the possibility of a civil war, but warns that
"they [preferred appellation for the Americans] want a civil war. Before the
war we didn't use words like 'Sunni' or 'Shi'ite'. We are one nation and drink
from the same two rivers. There won't be a civil war, but there might be
problems." The sheikh and his cousins are convinced that "they will never allow
elections", and so the sheikh smiles proudly, lifting his head: "We are an
independent tribe. We don't have relations with other parties or the Iraqi
Governing Council."
On the beat in Romeo Charlie Seven sector
The village of Albu Abed is just a few bumpy turns down the road from Albu
Aitha, on the way to Falluja. A dust storm has blown in and the warm weather of
a few hours ago has dropped chillingly as the skies have grayed and reddened to
the color of the desert dust. A lone tank sits on the road by a compound of
three houses, where two other US vehicles stand. Six very relaxed American
soldiers 
emerge from a small house to the side, eager for company, and offer a tour of
Romeo Charlie Seven sector.
Lieutenant Mark, the platoon leader for these 1st Infantry Division soldiers,
based in Camp Junction City, speaks softly and has sensitive gray-blue eyes. He
takes his guests to a large collection of sacks and wooden crates with Russian
markings, then changes his mind. "Let's start at the beginning." He explains
that a few days ago during a routine patrol to get to know the village people
and see what their needs were, a platoon of their soldiers stopped by this
house. A man at the gate ran in, which is not unusual in itself, since Iraqis
are afraid of American soldiers, so one Sergeant Boyer went to the house to
reassure them. Boyer was shot in the face when he entered the gate, the bullet
going through his cheeks. He managed to empty his weapon as he made his way
back to the vehicle, then the whole platoon opened up on the house, killing the
shooter and then arresting three other guys who had tried to run. There are
indeed large gashes on outer walls of the central house from the heavy fire it
received.
Entering the house through the doorless threshold, and stepping over an Iraqi
army woolen face mask, Lieutenant Mark points to the living room. "They had six
155 artillery rounds rigged as bombs over here and other bomb-making material."
The interior of the house has been shredded. "Yeah, they fucked it up pretty
good after their guy got shot in the face," he explains. Climbing upstairs, he
shows a room full of hospital items, such as a gurney and air tanks, as well as
mechanic's tools, such as monkey wrenches and screws. The lieutenant explains
that an ambulance was stolen in the area not long ago, and he suspects these
items belonged to it. Children's shoes and a used diaper are strewn about with
the empty wrappers of US military rations, but Lieutenant Mark says there were
no women or children in the house, adding that this is strange in Iraqi
culture. He adds that foreign passports were found in the house, and mentions
an Egyptian one when asked what countries they were from. Returning downstairs,
he explains that "the neighbors all say this family was a bunch of dicks". In
the front yard where an Iraqi double-headed-eagle military sign leans against a
broken wall, Lieutenant Mark leads his guests to the large sacks of sodium
nitrate, which is easily converted into a bomb when mixed with any type of
petroleum product, though, as he admits, it is also used for fertilizer.
Further down the road a series of small shacks that appear abandoned hide
grocery stores and a barber shop. Albu Abed's downtown district. Three men
emerge, one leaving his customer with his face half-shaven, to discuss their
version of the incident. Then within 10 minutes there are 30 crowding around.
Very shortly another 20 men emerge from nearby houses, passing cars and the
riverbank. The men claim six Americans were killed in the attack, which
occurred at 1 in the afternoon. They blame a stranger who did not like the
neighborhood and planted the material in the house and told the Americans. They
say women and children were in the house, and warn that "if we find the man who
told the Americans about this we will kill him and his family".
They also blame spies for placing roadside bombs on the street and tell the
Americans that there are mujahideen in the village. When asked about their
relations with the American soldiers, they answer "zifit" or "asphalt",
meaning "shitty", echoing the complaints about female prisoners and adding that
the Americans recently held two men in the back of a Bradley for an hour, for
no good reason. They say the Americans burned the body of the Iraqi man they
shot. One man admits that the Americans are only harsh after they have been
attacked. Another admits he only heard that six Americans were killed. Their
hard faces become warm as they hold the visitors to their village, insisting
they stay for dinner. A driver of a car stopped for directions to Baghdad also
invites his petitioners to dinner. Jawa motorcycles, often used by the
resistance, are parked near many of the homes. Written on one wall is "long
live the mujahideen".
A few more turns down the road is a 1st Armored Cavalry checkpoint near a big
hole in the road where an IED, or improvised explosive device, exploded a few
days earlier, killing two soldiers in a Humvee. IEDs are a daily event, the
soldiers, based in Camp Manhattan, explain. Sometimes they find them before
they explode and sometimes they get killed. The 155 rounds are common. Two IPs,
or Iraqi Police officers, stand guard on the road with the soldiers, who are
trying to "Iraqify" the security. Local IPs are not competent, they say. "When
we ask for police support, the experienced senior officers will send the young
new guys who are not respected by anybody," says their sergeant. "They don't go
out of their way. We fight their battles for them. Tribal relations are a
problem too - they won't go after a guy in their tribe." He adds that since a
car bomb blew up in front of their police station they have been making more of
an effort.
Past the IPs, through Falluja and Abu Ghraib, the road to Baghdad is quiet,
though half an hour later an hour-long battle occurs between Iraqis and
Americans based in a large prison.
(Copyright 2004 Asia Times Online Ltd. All rights reserved. Please contact
content@atimes.com for information on our
sales and syndication policies.)
|
| |
|
|
 |
|
