IMAGES OF IRAQ
William Thomson
October 7, 1999
I recently returned from two weeks in
Iraq as part of a
humanitarian delegation whose purpose was to directly observe the
effects of the economic sanctions on the people of
Iraq. We
visited hospitals, medical schools, universities,
elementary
schools, mosques and churches, and in addition
we met with
numerous government and United Nations
officials, religious
leaders and ordinary people. Perhaps the appellation
"ordinary
people" is incorrect, since the people of Iraq were
the most
friendly and hospitable individuals I have encountered in travels
on five continents over the
past 50 years. As obvious
foreigners, we were consistently approached, both
individually
and as a group, by people wanting to meet us and
extend their
unexcelled Arab hospitality. Even after it was discovered
that
we were Americans, our hosts were quick to point out (typically
in English) the distinction they made between the American people
and the policies of our government. On only four occasions
did
we discover any anti-American hostility; two "Down with America"
graffiti, and two events in hospitals where we were confronted by
relatives of children suffering because
of the absence of
sanctioned medications.
One of these situations
was particularly memorable. In
Mosul's Children and Maternity Hospital, we were
energetically
lectured by Bushra Radhi, a pharmacy assistant, on
the hourly
tragedies caused by the absence of routine medications because of
the US/UN sanctions. She pointed
out that children were
regularly dying of diarrhea, minor infections, dehydration
and
other easily preventable diseases. She asked us why we
brought
cameras instead of medicine, and pointed
out that several
delegations had come to visit, but "nothing changes".
Unknown to us, Ms. Radhi's sister was
giving birth in the
next room, and we were soon presented
with a minutes-old
beautiful baby girl. Sterile conditions long ago disappeared
in
Iraqi hospitals due to the absence of cleaning chemicals,
spare
parts, and other difficulties, so we each held the baby in turn.
Coincidentally, it was my birthday, and as I mentioned that fact,
I was honored by being asked to name the baby, by none other that
the aforementioned Ms. Radhi, the infant's aunt.
It was an
emotional moment for us all, and it reflects, I believe, the true
character of the Iraqi people, a people we have been taught
for
many years to fear and demonize.
Later that day we traveled outside
of Mosul to Baasheeqa
village, where on August 23 of this year, Mufawak Attoo (23)
and
Shakri Khadher (24) were killed
by cluster bombs while
constructing a simple concrete block structure in the middle
of
the desert. About a quarter of a mile distant we visited an open
area in which on April 30, shepherd Ahmad Jirgis
Ayyoub, his
father Jirgis Ayyoub Sultan, and four of his sons
(Lukman-15,
Mohamad-12, Sultan-7, and Murtahdi-3) were killed.
Witnesses
described an aircraft that made a reconnaissance pass,
followed
by repeated bombing passes, resulting in the death
of the 6
people, some 40 sheep, and the sheep dog. Not a living being
was
spared. We found remains of the animals, as well as a sandal
and
a child's slipper, plus hundreds of cluster
bomb fragments.
While I am not a military person, the official explanation
of
"military retaliation" rings hollow when standing among
remains
in the middle of an empty desert. Simple target practice
seems
more likely.
Overall what we observed was appalling--hunger,
trauma and
needless deaths. Our visit confirmed the basic facts as reported
by the United Nations: one of every four
Iraqi children is
seriously malnourished, more than 4,500 children under the age of
5 are dying each month from hunger and disease; over one
and a
half million people (out of a population of 23 million) have died
as a result of medical shortages and malnutrition
due to the
US/UN sanctions.
Along the way we met many of the principal
players in the
situation, such as Nizer Hamdoon, former Iraqi ambassador to
the
US and the UN, Abd El Baqi Sadoon, the governor of the
Southern
Region of Iraq, Ahmad Ibrihim Hammas, the mayor of Basrah, Deputy
Ministers of Health Khalid Jameel and Ali Sindhi, Deputy Minister
of Agriculture Rafed Hussein, H. C. Graf Sponeck,
the current
head of the United Nations Oil-for-Food Program,
and numerous
other officials, professors, and physicians. All confirmed
the
story of malnutrition and lack of basic life support, especially
in the area of medical treatment.
And we were privileged to met
with the children as well,
with Shakawan Rashid, 2 years old, malnourished, and
afflicted
with respiratory infection and diarrhea. Shakawan looked
me in
the eye and tried to grasp my finger,
but had insufficient
strength. This was on September 1st; Shakawan is no doubt
dead
by now. In Baghdad we met Yasheia,
dying of leukemia and
bleeding to death because of the absence of drugs to
stop his
hemorrhaging. He has certainly joined Shakawan in death by
now.
In the "terminal room" we encountered beautiful Fatima
Abdulla,
dressed in her finery and cared for by her mother.
Fatima had
dancing eyes and an engaging smile, but she most certainly
has
died by now from renal distress. In Mosul we met Hiyam
Fadheed,
14 years old. Her father blind, her twin brother
assists her
mother in making a living by selling gasoline out of open plastic
containers, a profession with an
expectedly short life
expectancy. Though Hiyam speaks English quite proficiently
and
is obviously very intelligent, she is unable
to continue in
school because she is needed to care
for her four younger
siblings. In Basrah we met Mustafa Saleh, age 5, the victim of
a
"smart bomb" dropped in his poverty-stricken
neighborhood, a
neighborhood with raw sewage flowing through the streets because
we refuse to allow sewage pipes to be imported.
Mustafa was
lucky; though he still carries shrapnel in his small body and
is
missing two fingers from his left hand, his 6 year-old
brother
Heider was killed. At least I think Mustafa was lucky.
We also met countless other children,
ravaged by war and
sanctions, who were nonetheless filled with a contagious
spirit
of optimism and stamina. If they can avoid infection and
normal
childhood disease; if they can sufficiently process contaminated
water and inadequate nutrition, they
may reach adulthood.
Currently adulthood in Iraq means inability to find
meaningful
work, and thus inability to marry and support a family. It means
trying to pull together $400 for an exit visa to a
neighboring
country where wages are more than the
$3-4 per month that
teachers, nurses and other professionals can earn in Iraq.
It
means trying to raise a family in which a child can often beg
as
much in a day as a parent can earn
in a week. It means
considering prostitution as a viable
option to support an
extended family.
These are the conditions that the sanctions have
created for
the citizens of Iraq. We are destroying
children. We are
destroying adults. We are destroying
the elderly. We are
destroying an entire culture, one of earth's original cultures,
located in the Cradle of Civilization.
If you would like to assist in ending
this tragedy, attend
the National Organizing Conference on Iraq to be held in
Ann
Arbor, MI at the University of Michigan Law Quad October 15-17.
Arrange for a speaker at your local synagogue, mosque,
church,
service club or place of business. Mohandas Gandhi reminds us
to
"recall the face of the poorest and most helpless person you have
seen and ask yourself if the next step you contemplate is
going
to be of any use to that person."
As James Douglass put it after his 1995
trip to Iraq, "How
many Iraqi children should we kill in order to
depose Saddam
Hussein? 10,000? 50,000? 100,000?
How many? You decide.
Because the United States government has been
deciding this
question on our behalf, with increasing
numbers of dead
children."
*************************************
William Thomson is a clinical psychologist, a faculty
member
at the University of Michigan/Dearborn, and a coordinator for the
Ann Arbor/Ypsilanti (MI) Campaign to End the Sanctions in Iraq.
He
may be reached by email at wthomson@umich.edu or by phone at
(734) 662-2216.