Monday
Mar132006
Iraq Dispatch Number 2
Monday, March 13, 2006 at 3:00AM
By Richard Miller
9 March, 2006-03-09
At 12:10 hours we—a group of journalists and soldiers—boarded the brown colored armored box-on-wheels better known as the Rhino-Runner for an hour plus journey to Sadr City, a name likely to inspire fear in the hearts of cable television audiences everywhere. The Rhino seats 23 uncomfortably behind bullet-proof glass windows and steel plates thick enough to take a hit from a 30 caliber, 166 grain bullet traveling at a mere 2850 feet per second. It's also good against many IEDs although the manufacturer is understandably reluctant to discuss tolerances, and few are the embedded journalists willing to honor the "public's right to know" on that sensitive question. Today's sky matched the color of the Rhino, as a moderate sandstorm had blown over Baghdad, blowing fine dust into lungs, cameras, laptops and exposed electrical contacts.
Sadr City is often referred to by media as a "Shiite slum." But whoever first called this area a slum must have been at a loss for words for what he saw and so snatched the first term that came to mind. Sadr City is no mere slum—it's a ruined, broken expanse of densely crowded ramshackle buildings, sometimes separated by shallow wetlands on which donkeys, dog packs and children compete for space over the same piles of rusted junk, stinking garbage and fetid streams clogged with indescribable organic refuse. Meanwhile, a few miles down the road one can see the public monuments and official buildings constructed by Saddam, all in such bad taste that would have likely offended even Stalin's architects.
This place used to be called Saddam City, but after the U.S. invasion, was renamed after Mohammad Sadr, a revered imam killed by Saddam Hussein. When the place was first named Saddam City, the dictator himself appeared in the Municipal Building to make a speech then reportedly never darkened its door again. "There are three things I do not understand why God made," Saddam supposedly once said. "Persians [Shiites], flies and Jews."
But there are more than a few hints of a future here. We passed through one Sadr neighborhood that hosts suppliers of building material. Colored tiles, mounds of concrete-ready sand, and enormous stacked palettes of bricks suggested a building boom. And indeed, an Iraqi I spoke with confirmed that prices for these materials are rising steadily, reflecting demand. Moreover, the street merchants were selling whole walls of new-in-box refrigerators, air conditioners, and generators, followed by clothing, shoes, and hats. But perhaps the most precious commodity filling the sidewalks and storefronts were hundreds of children. Most combat journalists and soldiers know that when the locals let the kids out to play, danger is unlikely.
So here's the rub: despite criticism that "embedding" with the military equals "in-bed" with the military, the one thing beyond anyone's power to script is street life. The hour's ride there and back to Sadr proved that the cable talking heads and editorial writers back home, the experts and their out-country blogs and Op Eds who describe Iraq as in the grip of a civil war are wrong. There is sectarianism aplenty, to be sure. Traveling through Sadr one sees Shiite militia men garbed in black, often lurking near the red-bereted Iraqi Security Forces and blue-shirted police. But the streets were otherwise full of people living their lives in normal civilian rhythms.
I came here in part to investigate claims of a civil war. However, thus far, I've seen nothing of the sort. There are many who have invested cash, manpower or political capital hoping for such an outcome—the Iranian and Syrian governments, the Western hard left, jihadis, and so forth all come to mind. But without Iraqi help, the outsiders and local opportunists will succeed only in killing a lot of people. And thus far, it is the Iraqis who seem to have drawn a bright line at a brink they will not cross.
9 March, 2006-03-09
At 12:10 hours we—a group of journalists and soldiers—boarded the brown colored armored box-on-wheels better known as the Rhino-Runner for an hour plus journey to Sadr City, a name likely to inspire fear in the hearts of cable television audiences everywhere. The Rhino seats 23 uncomfortably behind bullet-proof glass windows and steel plates thick enough to take a hit from a 30 caliber, 166 grain bullet traveling at a mere 2850 feet per second. It's also good against many IEDs although the manufacturer is understandably reluctant to discuss tolerances, and few are the embedded journalists willing to honor the "public's right to know" on that sensitive question. Today's sky matched the color of the Rhino, as a moderate sandstorm had blown over Baghdad, blowing fine dust into lungs, cameras, laptops and exposed electrical contacts.
Sadr City is often referred to by media as a "Shiite slum." But whoever first called this area a slum must have been at a loss for words for what he saw and so snatched the first term that came to mind. Sadr City is no mere slum—it's a ruined, broken expanse of densely crowded ramshackle buildings, sometimes separated by shallow wetlands on which donkeys, dog packs and children compete for space over the same piles of rusted junk, stinking garbage and fetid streams clogged with indescribable organic refuse. Meanwhile, a few miles down the road one can see the public monuments and official buildings constructed by Saddam, all in such bad taste that would have likely offended even Stalin's architects.
This place used to be called Saddam City, but after the U.S. invasion, was renamed after Mohammad Sadr, a revered imam killed by Saddam Hussein. When the place was first named Saddam City, the dictator himself appeared in the Municipal Building to make a speech then reportedly never darkened its door again. "There are three things I do not understand why God made," Saddam supposedly once said. "Persians [Shiites], flies and Jews."
But there are more than a few hints of a future here. We passed through one Sadr neighborhood that hosts suppliers of building material. Colored tiles, mounds of concrete-ready sand, and enormous stacked palettes of bricks suggested a building boom. And indeed, an Iraqi I spoke with confirmed that prices for these materials are rising steadily, reflecting demand. Moreover, the street merchants were selling whole walls of new-in-box refrigerators, air conditioners, and generators, followed by clothing, shoes, and hats. But perhaps the most precious commodity filling the sidewalks and storefronts were hundreds of children. Most combat journalists and soldiers know that when the locals let the kids out to play, danger is unlikely.
So here's the rub: despite criticism that "embedding" with the military equals "in-bed" with the military, the one thing beyond anyone's power to script is street life. The hour's ride there and back to Sadr proved that the cable talking heads and editorial writers back home, the experts and their out-country blogs and Op Eds who describe Iraq as in the grip of a civil war are wrong. There is sectarianism aplenty, to be sure. Traveling through Sadr one sees Shiite militia men garbed in black, often lurking near the red-bereted Iraqi Security Forces and blue-shirted police. But the streets were otherwise full of people living their lives in normal civilian rhythms.
I came here in part to investigate claims of a civil war. However, thus far, I've seen nothing of the sort. There are many who have invested cash, manpower or political capital hoping for such an outcome—the Iranian and Syrian governments, the Western hard left, jihadis, and so forth all come to mind. But without Iraqi help, the outsiders and local opportunists will succeed only in killing a lot of people. And thus far, it is the Iraqis who seem to have drawn a bright line at a brink they will not cross.
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