Helen Williams - Iraq Diaries da electroniciraq.net

Helen Williams, Electronic Iraq, 23 August 2004

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While all of this was going on, the fighting continued outside - it seemed to be getting closer and the tank rounds from the Americans sounded like they were hitting the next building. One in particular sounded very close, shaking the house even stronger than the others, the glass light fittings rattled and my toes curled. One of the Iraqi Red Cross guys told me that when they had come to Najaf a few days ago, they had been allowed to pass the American line and deliver the aid and do something worthwhile, but here we could do nothing. A few days ago, the Americans had been further away from the Imam Ali Mosque, but now they, and us, were within 200 metres - it seemed as if they thought they were going in for the kill and they did not want any of the injured to be saved. As we were not allowed to pass the lines we could not treat any of the injured, and they could not pass through the lines and get to us. The situation was unbelievable and impossible. The Americans should have let us through, we were aid workers.

There is no way they should have stopped us. It just shows their flagrant disregard for human rights and human life. They are disgusting, evil murderers and I saw it for myself, all we wanted to do was deliver aid to injured people. The decision was made to pack up and head out to Kufa, where there was also (unreported) fighting, some 10 kilometers away - there we would be able to do something worthwhile, it was hoped. So we packed up all the equipment and headed back out along the dusty streets. The residents that remained came out to see us go, asking why we were leaving. They also could not believe that we were unable to pass. They were telling us things about the people leaving the city. One said "Is this democracy?" Another "God help Moqtada" and others told how the Americans had been firing at their houses.

We took back roads out of Najaf, so bumpy that the ambulance bottomed out several times and made our way to Kufa. We passed more Mahdi Army checkpoints, who let us pass unhindered and approached the Mosque.

Helen stands with a chador in the compound of the Muslim Mosque (adjoining the Moqtar Mosque) in Kufa. Italian Red Cross vehicles and volunteers can be seen in the background.

Here Ali talked to the men guarding the site and they pointed the route we should take to the mosque gates. We entered the mosque. This was a 'double' mosque - two mosques in one complex - Moqtar Mosque and Muslim Mosque. Mahdi army men were sitting in the shade around the Mosque eating their lunch. One small girl near the mosque stared at us in disbelief - I smiled at her and her little face broke into a wide grin - I wondered at the things she had seen and what her life was like. Inside the mosque, all the vehicles parked up in the mosque compound. The Mosque was being worked on and made beautiful, there were building materials everywhere and men working.

We were taken to a small room in one of the buildings around the courtyard and given lots of cold water to drink. I had put my headscarf on as soon as we reached the outskirts of Najaf. Now I had my chador on as well - here in the mosque, it was important that not one strand of hair was on display.

Safa'a then took me and Wejdy to another small room across the courtyard. In this room were about 10 small beds with 5 patients - young men who had recently been injured. One man had a colostomy 5 years ago, but it had started to bleed and he was unable to reach a hospital so he had come to the mosque for rudimentary treatment. Two other men had been burnt badly after an American missile attack - the one had both legs badly burnt and one arm, the bandages on which needed changing, blood and fluid was seeping through. Safa'a told him to try and move his injured limbs to keep them mobile. The other 2 had also been injured by a missile attack. One, who said he was 18, but looked 15 or 16, had shrapnel wounds all over his back and buttocks, so he could not even lie down comfortably. Fortunately, especially for the burns victims, there was electricity here - at least they had the benefit of air conditioning and fans, if nothing else.

We left the room and were taken into the Mosque itself. It was the first time that I have ever been allowed into a Mosque in Iraq. Unlike Syria, Tunisia and Turkey, non-Muslims are not allowed into mosques in Iraq - but they made an exception for us and I felt so lucky and honoured as I entered the recently refurbished prayer hall. It was absolutely stunning with huge beige and white pillars and beautiful white glass lights hanging between each and of course, lots of fans. The prayer hall was open to the mosque courtyard with huge brick arches and the hall itself was large, peaceful and airy. The Mosque is called Moqtar Mosque. Moqtar is the man who killed Yezid, an Ummayad in Damascus. Yezid is the man who killed Hussein in Kerbala in 680 AD. Hussein is the man who is revered in the month of Moharram and 10 Moharram (Ashura) is the day on which Hussein died at Kerbala - this is the day that the bombs happened at Kerbala and Khadimaya this year - the most special and holy day for Shia Islam. Moqtar is buried in this Mosque. In addition to this, this mosque is the first mosque that Imam Ali, son-in-law and cousin to the Prophet Mohammed, ever preached at and it is the mosque that Moqtada Al Sadr, the man himself, leads prayers every Friday - the one you see on TV. So it is a very very special place, almost, but not, as special as the Imam Ali Mosque in Najaf, where Imam Ali is actually buried.

Here in a small room off the side of the prayer hall we sat down for lunch. Wejdy experienced for the first time a pleasant vegan phenomenon. Everyone else was fed first - they had horrible kebab meat on some flat bread with onions and tomatoes. We waited patiently for our food to arrive - Ali had kindly explained that we were vegan. And then it came - a huge plate - over 40 cm in diameter - of yellow rice with baked vegetables on it - eggplant, tomatoes, potatoes, onions etc - it looked delicious and everyone else thought so too, looking eagerly at our food. And once again, I enjoyed that feeling - the feeling that everyone else in the room had wished they had said they were vegan too.

Our lunch in Moqtar Mosque, Kufa - compare to the meaty dish next to it!

Throughout the meal, different men came and joined us in the room. Many of them were fighters and they were all thoroughly pleasant men. Being the only woman in the party, I was completely spoilt, my chai glass constantly filled. But when I spoke a few words of Arabic saying how much I loved Iraq, chai, that was it. Talking and laughter filled the room as we discussed Wales (and its 'occupation' by England), the situation in Iraq, the evil of America and even what sports I liked.

Poor Wejdy could barely keep up with the translating and he encouraged me to say more and more in Arabic, but by now my head was pounding - probably from a combination of the 2 hours' sleep I had last night and the bomb blast on the journey south. I was happy when we were informed that we would take two hours rest until 6 pm, when we would open up a clinic for the evening - I was to help any women that arrived. But before we went to sleep, a couple of fighters wanted to speak to the Italian Red Cross men. One of them wanted to know why, every time he launched a rocket, his body shook, his eyes went blurry, his ears went strange and he became dizzy. The doctor told him it was probably from the force of the launch. But the man was still concerned, saying that it did not happen to his compatriots - he was told that it was probably due to his health, different men can do different things and he probably was not 100% fit from all the worry and fighting and that it was nothing to be concerned about if he felt otherwise healthy in his normal day to day life. Abu Moqtada ('father of Moqtada' - he had recently had a newborn son who he had named after Moqtada Al Sadr), another fighter, had crude stitches holding together cuts on his fingers - this was then dressed very tidily, but he was still able to fight as his right hand was unaffected.

When we awoke at 6pm, we were given more chai. I was also given a photo poster of Moqtada - it was an old battered one and the men wanted to give me a new one. I declined their kind offer, preferring the old one that had actually been used and put on display in the mosque. We had earlier met two of the mosque sheikhs and now we talked to one of them for a time before going outside and helping to unload the lorries of medical aid. Two ambulances were filled with emergency equipment for Najaf and other things were unloaded into a makeshift clinic in a room within the mosque compound. Then the lorry of water was unloaded onto the courtyard of the mosque.

Delivering water in the mosque.

Pile of water bags in the mosque.

Nagi, a little 9 year old boy was helping here. I had met him earlier and he was a real sweetie. Orphaned, he lived in the mosque and he was everywhere all the time, the centre of attention and spoilt and fussed over by all. I was told that he loved to help the fighters load their guns with bullets and he wanted to fight and die alongside the men. He wore a headband which said "Please God, let Mohammed's law be obeyed always" in Arabic. He worked so hard all day and night and when we went to sleep, later on, in the prayer hall, he was there again, sleeping next to us.

[continua nel prossimo post]

Helen Williams, Electronic Iraq, 23 August 2004

[continua dal precedente post]
Throughout the evening we talked to so many fighters it is difficult to remember them all. I can honestly say that they were all amazingly brave kind and decent men. They are not terrorists or religious fundamentalists. They all knew that I was British and that the Italians were Italian and all had the capacity to realise that, just because we were from bad countries occupying and stripping Iraq, it did not mean that we agreed with our governments. On the contrary, we explained that we did not. And not being Muslim was not a problem either - there was complete and utter respect for each others' religions.

They just want America out of Iraq, away from Kufa and Najaf and away from their holy shrines. Many of them did see it as an attack on Islam, but readily listened to me when I explained that it was more than just that. But I could not answer when they asked me why I thought the Americans were attacking the mosques - in the end I just answered that I could not understand the hatred in any man's heart that would attack poor people in residential areas with no regard for the sanctity of human life, so I certainly could not answer for these evildoers.

Another local man wanted to take us all to his house and put us up for the night - he asked why did America attack Iraq and try and bring their Western 'values' which Iraq does not want? He said "You're Christian, become Muslim, if you don't should I kill you? Of course not! So why can't America just let us be and respect our religion?"

Another fighter told me how his mother was also fighting - she fires off RPGs at the Americans, in her chador, even covering her face up to her nose.

We also met other fighters who had traveled there from all over Iraq - from Hilla, Amara, Kerbala etc.

Then as we crossed the courtyard one time, Wejdy suddenly spotted an old school friend, in fact one of his best friends - Mohammed from Hilla. They could not believe it, meeting each other under such circumstances after one and a half years. Mohammed had come to fight America and Wejdy had come to help with medical aid and vital translation.

During the evening, a speech was read out over the mosque loudspeaker - then all the men stopped and started chanting ending with "Moqtada, Moqtada, Moqtada". They had just been told that America had launched a big attack on the centre of Najaf, but the Mahdi Army there had fought back with RPGs and they had repelled the attack - the Americans had pulled back - I just hoped it was true, and that as a result no further blood had been spilt.

There were no weapons stored in the mosque. The only time I saw weapons was when the fighters would come into the courtyard to rest or get water etc. They were not launching any attacks from the mosque itself. I saw all sorts of weapons - sniper rifles, AK47's, RPGs. I joked that I was so angry with American soldiers' attitude that I could have launched one at them myself. Well, that was it. They had an idea that I should go outside and hold an RPG and have my photo taken. This had to be done outside of the mosque as an RPG could not be held in attack position (even for a joke) in the mosque compound. At first, Ali, who was in charge of our group, wouldn't hear of my going outside in case there should be an attack - I was certainly safer inside the mosque compound. But then the Mahdi Army guys persuaded him that it would only be for 5 minutes and we were allowed.

Mosque video man - filming us photographing him!