In this remarkable dispatch, Ghaith Abdul-Ahad, one of the few journalists who can still move freely about Baghdad, watches the execution with Sunni insurgents
Ghaith Abdul-Ahad
Sunday December 31, 2006
Observer
In a small, bare living room in Baghdad, two Sunni mujahideens, Abu A'isha and his friend Abu Hamza, sat mesmerised. The Shia-controlled state TV was showing the final moments of the life of their former leader, the noose being tightened around his neck. Saddam was dressed in a black coat, his black dyed hair pushed to the back, his hand and legs shackled. Men in civilian clothes and ski masks helped him up a small ladder. A trap door surrounded by a metal rail could be seen.
Saddam appeared a little confused and exchanged a few words with his masked hangman, who gestured at his neck. Saddam nodded and the hangman wrapped a black piece of cloth around his neck.
'They killed him, is that possible?' Abu Hamza, a muscled Sunni insurgent in his early thirties asked in disbelief. 'I still can't believe it,' he continued, resting his head on his palm. The TV channel repeated the scenes many times, cut before the actual execution moment and followed by television scenes of jubilant Shia men and boys dancing, accompanied by patriotic songs. 'Those Shia, they killed him on the day of the Eid just to humiliate us,' said Abu Hamza.
Abu A'isha, a mid-level commander of an insurgency group in west Baghdad, short, stout, in his forties and dressed in a blue tracksuit, was more calm. 'It's better for the jihad,' he explained. 'Every time the mujahideen do an operation they say it's the people of Saddam. Where is Saddam now? Let's see if his death will affect the jihad. Of course it won't.' He added: 'The resistance is led by the Islamists, and we don't love Saddam. It's good that he is out of the picture. Now things will be clearer.
'There will be some hardcore Baathists who might demonstrate in the streets, go do a couple of attacks on the Americans, but it's over for them,' said Abu Hamza. This is the final declaration of the civil war, if anyone had any doubts left,' added Abu A'isha. 'I am sure there will be demonstrations in Adhamiya [the largely Sunni neighbourhood where Saddam was seen before the fall of Baghdad in 2003].'
But the streets in Sunni neighbourhoods, like most of Baghdad, yesterday remained calm and half deserted. A few cars drove quickly through the Sunni neighbourhoods of Seliekh and Adhamiya in north Baghdad. The city had an air of anxiety and anticipation.
'People are anxious. Saddam has been dead for a long time now. He is a page that was flipped four years ago. People are more worried about civil war,' said Hameed, a Sunni former officer. 'They are more worried about storing food and kerosene in case of a curfew than worrying about Saddam.'
In the Shia areas it was a different story. There was sporadic gunfire in the sky of Baghdad at dawn as the news of the execution was announced and more celebratory gun fire crackled in the afternoon when images from his execution were broadcast. In the vast, impoverished Shia neighbourhood of Sadr City, scores of militiamen and kids toted guns in the air, while others danced in the street, waving pictures of Shia clerics. From a pick-up truck, an effigy of the dictator hung from a stick as men slapped it with the soles of their flip-flops -a sign of contempt. Shia TV channels close to the Dawa party showed grainy images of the corpse of Saddam, his neck twisted at an odd angle, traces of blood on his cheek. But images that were intended to prove to the Iraqi people that their former dictator was executed were not enough for a population immersed in conspiracy theory.
'I know that when a man is hanged they dress him in an orange jumpsuit. Saddam was wearing his coat. Why? Because the Americans took him somewhere else,' said Ali, a Shia student from Karadda. Umm Hussein, a 40-year-old Shia woman who lost her house and her cousin after a multiple car bomb that also left her husband crippled for life, was more ambivalent.
'Of course we are happy. What did we get from him? He destroyed Iraq and sent us to war and then we starved. He didn't give us anything. and we lived in poverty.' Her husband sat nearby as her children played football outside their small cinder-block house. She looked at him. 'But will Saddam's execution bring health back to my husband? No.'
Guardian Unlimited © Guardian News and Media Limited 2006
Ghaith Abdul-Ahad
Sunday December 31, 2006
Observer
In a small, bare living room in Baghdad, two Sunni mujahideens, Abu A'isha and his friend Abu Hamza, sat mesmerised. The Shia-controlled state TV was showing the final moments of the life of their former leader, the noose being tightened around his neck. Saddam was dressed in a black coat, his black dyed hair pushed to the back, his hand and legs shackled. Men in civilian clothes and ski masks helped him up a small ladder. A trap door surrounded by a metal rail could be seen.
Saddam appeared a little confused and exchanged a few words with his masked hangman, who gestured at his neck. Saddam nodded and the hangman wrapped a black piece of cloth around his neck.
'They killed him, is that possible?' Abu Hamza, a muscled Sunni insurgent in his early thirties asked in disbelief. 'I still can't believe it,' he continued, resting his head on his palm. The TV channel repeated the scenes many times, cut before the actual execution moment and followed by television scenes of jubilant Shia men and boys dancing, accompanied by patriotic songs. 'Those Shia, they killed him on the day of the Eid just to humiliate us,' said Abu Hamza.
Abu A'isha, a mid-level commander of an insurgency group in west Baghdad, short, stout, in his forties and dressed in a blue tracksuit, was more calm. 'It's better for the jihad,' he explained. 'Every time the mujahideen do an operation they say it's the people of Saddam. Where is Saddam now? Let's see if his death will affect the jihad. Of course it won't.' He added: 'The resistance is led by the Islamists, and we don't love Saddam. It's good that he is out of the picture. Now things will be clearer.
'There will be some hardcore Baathists who might demonstrate in the streets, go do a couple of attacks on the Americans, but it's over for them,' said Abu Hamza. This is the final declaration of the civil war, if anyone had any doubts left,' added Abu A'isha. 'I am sure there will be demonstrations in Adhamiya [the largely Sunni neighbourhood where Saddam was seen before the fall of Baghdad in 2003].'
But the streets in Sunni neighbourhoods, like most of Baghdad, yesterday remained calm and half deserted. A few cars drove quickly through the Sunni neighbourhoods of Seliekh and Adhamiya in north Baghdad. The city had an air of anxiety and anticipation.
'People are anxious. Saddam has been dead for a long time now. He is a page that was flipped four years ago. People are more worried about civil war,' said Hameed, a Sunni former officer. 'They are more worried about storing food and kerosene in case of a curfew than worrying about Saddam.'
In the Shia areas it was a different story. There was sporadic gunfire in the sky of Baghdad at dawn as the news of the execution was announced and more celebratory gun fire crackled in the afternoon when images from his execution were broadcast. In the vast, impoverished Shia neighbourhood of Sadr City, scores of militiamen and kids toted guns in the air, while others danced in the street, waving pictures of Shia clerics. From a pick-up truck, an effigy of the dictator hung from a stick as men slapped it with the soles of their flip-flops -a sign of contempt. Shia TV channels close to the Dawa party showed grainy images of the corpse of Saddam, his neck twisted at an odd angle, traces of blood on his cheek. But images that were intended to prove to the Iraqi people that their former dictator was executed were not enough for a population immersed in conspiracy theory.
'I know that when a man is hanged they dress him in an orange jumpsuit. Saddam was wearing his coat. Why? Because the Americans took him somewhere else,' said Ali, a Shia student from Karadda. Umm Hussein, a 40-year-old Shia woman who lost her house and her cousin after a multiple car bomb that also left her husband crippled for life, was more ambivalent.
'Of course we are happy. What did we get from him? He destroyed Iraq and sent us to war and then we starved. He didn't give us anything. and we lived in poverty.' Her husband sat nearby as her children played football outside their small cinder-block house. She looked at him. 'But will Saddam's execution bring health back to my husband? No.'
Guardian Unlimited © Guardian News and Media Limited 2006
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