Aftermath

by Nir Rosen

  Soon after, Osama and Abu Yasser’s fellow comrade Abu Salih arranged a lunch for Eid. He invited locals, including the local American unit. Abu Salih had become famous for helping many Shiite families come back and protecting them. The head of the Baghdad Operations Command, Abud Qanbar, came to shake his hand, and it was shown on Iraqi TV. But after lunch the Americans left, and a different American unit showed up and arrested him. He was taken to the major crimes unit of the Iraqi police and accused of terrorism. He too was tortured and hung by his arms, and had trouble walking afterward. Abu Salih also paid about twenty thousand dollars, Osama said, and his family expected him to be released when more money was paid.

  “They torture and wait for them to confess; they don’t use evidence,” Osama said. At least eight other men I knew from Osama’s group had been arrested since the INPs took over. His young deputy Hussein had managed to abscond safely. There was also a warrant out for Osama, and he could not return to Dora to visit his parents. Abu Yusef—Osama’s former ally—had switched allegiances and joined with Muhammad Kashkul, Osama’s old nemesis. But Kashkul was arrested by the Americans and taken to the prison at Camp Bucca. Abu Yusef fled before he could be arrested. Now a fat man called Abu Suleiman was in charge of Osama’s old area. “He’s not a good guy,” Osama said. He felt betrayed. “The Americans were only with us when they needed us,” he said. He called the Americans when Abu Yasser was first arrested, but they told him it was an Iraqi affair and that they couldn’t do anything for him. “The SOI [Sons of Iraq] was never supposed to be an amnesty program,” one American Embassy official in Baghdad told me defensively when I recounted this story to him.

  The British special operators Osama and some of his men worked with also rotated units. “The new guys were assholes,” he said. They warned Abu Yasser that the Americans would arrest him if he did not help them arrest Al Qaeda men. In his one year working with the British, Abu Yasser helped them arrest several senior Al Qaeda men, including an explosives expert called Abu Maryam. The British gave sources one hundred dollars per visit, but Osama refused to take their money. “I said I am not a source, I’m working for my country,” he told me.

  Dora had changed dramatically since Osama and I had toured its devastation in 2007. I got an introduction to the new Dora with Adil Adnan, a round man with a gray mustache, and his son Maher. For the past five years Adnan had been the Education Ministry’s supervisor for seventy-six schools in southern Baghdad. Before that he had been a school principal for twenty-four years. He drove me down Dora’s Masafi Street. “This street, you couldn’t drive on it,” he said. “It was empty. The concrete barriers helped a lot, even if it was annoying.”

  Adnan was originally from Arab Jubur. “I didn’t visit for three years because it was unsafe,” he said. “The Awakening saved the area.” Adnan took me to his house in Dora’s Jumhuriya area. He had a green yard and a small garden under a skylight in his living room, which he proudly told me was in a Spanish style. “In 2005 the resistance got strong here,” Adnan said. “Then Americans brought random groups to run the government in 2006 and 2007.” That’s when sectarianism started in the Education Ministry. Adnan knew at least five Shiite and Sunni school principals who were killed and twenty or twenty-five teachers who were killed, including a Christian physical education teacher. Militias came into schools and ordered teachers to give certain students good grades. Many children whose parents were wealthy were kidnapped.

  In 2006 Maher was kidnapped by the Mahdi Army. “They took me to the Kadhimein Husseiniya and beat me with pistols,” Maher told me. The cleric interrogated him. They told him he had killed Imam Hussein. Maher protested that his father was Sunni but his mother was Shiite. They called him a tali (lamb), as the Mahdi Army refers to victims about to be executed. Maher asked for a glass of water. “What do you think this is?” they taunted. “The Sheraton?” They put him in the trunk of the car and drove him to be executed, but he kicked it open and managed to run away.

  “There was no sectarianism before,” Adnan recalled, but now “there are still bad people talking about sectarianism. Even in the worst times I had seven Shiite headmasters who stayed in Dora. Some were transferred so Shiites took salaries to Sunnis and Sunnis took salaries to Shiites. Sunni teachers from elsewhere would come, and I would give them jobs.”

  Adnan had a principal’s impartiality and viewed all sides in the conflict as responsible. “Who was killing if everybody says it wasn’t me?” he asked dismissively. “The Awakening, the police, the Mahdi Army—all say it wasn’t me.” Then there was a change in the American behavior. “The Americans got better, they started to know the area, they spread out more, had more patrols.” Unlike most Iraqis I met, Adnan wasn’t worried about the impending American withdrawal. “Let the Americans leave,” he said. “It’s the same thing.”

  Maher drove me around the neighborhood. He pointed to a young girl. “Al Qaeda killed her father and brother,” he told me. Not far away some Shiites had returned and put up the religious flags traditional Shiites raise above their homes. Some people viewed it as a provocation and threw a concussion bomb at the house.

  On a different day I met Maher again, and we drove to Arab Jubur, where his family originally hailed from. The banks of the Tigris, an idyllic rural area, had been the scene of some of the worst Al Qaeda violence of the war. We passed empty fields where Al Qaeda used to dump the bodies of Shiites they captured on the highway. “They would take whole Kia buses full of people,” he said. “Ansar al-Sunna, the 1920 Revolution Brigade, the Army of the Mujahideen, Al Qaeda, were all here.” There were numerous checkpoints manned by Iraqi soldiers and Awakening men every few hundred meters. We drove past fields from where Al Qaeda had launched an attack on Abu Dshir. The road was scarred by IED craters that had been filled with dirt. On our left was the bank of the Tigris. Maher pointed to destroyed houses on the side of the road. “This one was Al Qaeda,” he said. “This one was a slaughterer.” Many homes had been destroyed by American airstrikes during the surge. The violence had destroyed the farms and roads. Most people in the area were farmers, and earning a living was much harder now. There were no services, no drinking water, no clinic.

  In the schoolyard I found an eighteen-year-old boy watching younger children playing. In 2008 he lost his hand when an IED went off. His brother had lost a leg from an IED in a different incident. On the road I found a small boy on his way to school, leaning on a crutch. He was missing an arm and had a prosthetic leg. One day in 2008 he was tending his sheep when an IED went off. On the side of the road a man called Sami Adnan stood by his hardware. Like many, he had fled the area when the situation was at its worst. “The Americans used to bomb randomly every day, and there were terrorists,” he said. His house was burned and destroyed when he was away, but he didn’t know who was responsible. He attributed the improved security to the Awakening men. “Even the Americans got better after the terrorists left,” he said.

  At a checkpoint I spoke with two Awakening men wearing blue uniforms. They had joined the Awakening a year and a half earlier to protect their area, they told me. Their salaries were two months late. “When the Americans were here, we got salaries every fifteen days,” one of them said. Until now none of them had joined the ISF, though they had all applied. “It’s only promises,” they said. As we left Maher told me that both men were former members of the Army of the Mujahideen.

  A local boy got in our car and directed us to the home of the Awakening boss, Amer Abdallah Khalal al-Rabia, of the Jubur tribe. “It became normal to see dead bodies here on the side of the road,” the boy said as we drove. We turned off the road and drove several hundred meters through dense foliage and palm trees.

  Amer was not home, but we met his twenty-five-year-old brother, Tahsin, who had joined the Awakening in 2007. He had been one of the first to join in all of southern Baghdad, he told me. In May 2007 he went to Mahmudiya to give the Americans information about Al Qaeda. His family had battled Al Qaeda even b
efore the Awakening groups were formed, and Al Qaeda had killed three of his brothers. Another brother was killed after they established the Awakening group. In the early days of the occupation Islamist militants killed their tribe’s sheikh, Khalid Dawud al-Rabia. “They accused him of collaborating and working with Chalabi,” Tahsin told me, “but he was trying to open a police station here, and he wasn’t working with Chalabi. A group of men belonging to Dr. Fatthi Yusuf Saleh al-Juburi, a local veterinarian, was responsible for the murder.” Dr. Fatthi was the biggest terrorist in southern Baghdad, Tahsin said; his group distributed papers to schools saying girls can’t attend.

  Amer finally showed up wearing a loose-fitting suit, with a pistol tucked in his pants. A twenty-four-year veteran of the Iraqi army, he explained that he was responsible for the areas of Zunbaraniya, Uleimiya, and Beijia. Under the Americans he had commanded 629 men, but once authority for the Awakening shifted to the Iraqis, the Iraqi government fired fifty or sixty of his men every month. He now commanded only 490 men, not one of whom had joined the Iraqi Security Forces.

  When two of Amer’s men captured two Al Qaeda men, they turned them over to General Karim’s national police in Dora. But General Karim had Amer’s men arrested as well, and they had already spent three months in the serious crimes prison in Dora. “Our relationship with the Iraqi army is not good,” Amer said. “They don’t respect the Awakening. The Iraqi National Police don’t like the Awakening.” One month earlier Iraqi soldiers had beaten one of Amer’s men because he did not salute them. Now that the Iraqi army paid them, many negative things were happening. Salaries had been reduced. Amer’s salary was halved. Now he received the same amount as his men: about three hundred dollars. “The Americans used to come here to pay us,” he said. “Now we have to go to the Iraqi army battalion and wait on long lines. Some people wait for two or three days. We are treated with disrespect. For the last two months, there is no salary. It was all false promises. We are targeted by Al Qaeda and we have no protection.”

  Amer spoke of a new trend: families of slain Al Qaeda men were filing charges against him and Tahsin. “They made fake death certificates,” he said. “They said we killed people the Americans killed, and now there is a warrant for me in Baghdad.”

  Seven hundred and eighty-two families who had fled the area because of Al Qaeda had now returned. One factor limiting returns was the destruction of many homes. Sectarianism remained, but it was now more covert. The Americans were releasing terrorists from imprisonment in Camp Bucca, and there were rumors that the Awakening program would end in June. “Why did terrorism happen?” he asked me. “Because of the vacuum. If they don’t put the Awakening men in the Iraqi army or Iraqi police, problems will happen.”

  “Metrics” to determine “progress” in Iraq have always been difficult to determine. The American surge was meant to give space for Iraq’s politicians to achieve a modicum of reconciliation and progress. This had not happened, but it was an American-imposed standard. How did Iraqis feel about the situation? “The refugees are the best ones to determine the temperature on the ground, the best at keeping the pulse,” UN Assistance Mission for Iraq (UNAMI) head Stefan de Mistura told me. “If they return, the situation is normalizing. If they don’t, then there is a reason. They have returned but not in substantial numbers.” This was a contrast to other crises where he had worked. “In Kosovo we had two million people return,” he said. “We were delighted but overwhelmed.” After the January 2009 elections the changes became apparent: “We saw that the city of Baghdad changed its color. There was a cleansing.”

  Back in Baghdad I went to the Jihad district’s Mukhabarat area and met Ibrahim Saleh, also known as Abu Abdallah Hamdani. He was the local Awakening leader there; he was not pleased with Iraq’s new course. His area was walled off and the entrance was guarded by INPs and a tense Awakening man who barked at all strangers entering. I drove by a large lake of sewage and garbage, on a dirt road to Ibrahim’s large house, which was being built atop a hill. Hundreds of families had fled the area to the Anbar and elsewhere because mortars were falling on their homes. Ibrahim’s wife was among the victims of these mortars. The displaced started to return after the Awakening was established.

  Ibrahim took charge of 160 men in August 2008 after the INPs arrested his brother Taher, the previous leader. He and his brother joined the Awakening because there were no jobs and because they wanted to help protect the area. “Al Qaeda and the special groups were fighting each other, and the Friendly Forces [as he called the Americans] came to us and asked Taher to protect the area and give information. The Awakening was established here in July 2007.” He claimed Taher had a good relationship with the INPs, but one day Taher invited them to lunch, and after they finished eating they arrested him. “He was taken to the Fifth Brigade of INPs. They accused him of murder and stealing. In the beginning they beat him badly. He passed out for two days.” He was now in prison in the Shaab district. Both Taher and Ibrahim had been in the military before the war.

  Ibrahim claimed that both Al Qaeda and Shiite militias had tried to assassinate him. Two weeks before I met him, one of his Awakening men was arrested and beaten until he confessed to murder. An Awakening commander in the nearby Furat district was arrested in October 2008. I told Ibrahim it seemed to me that the Awakening groups were used and disposed of. “This is the reality,” he said. “I will be arrested, 100 percent. As soon as they finish with me, they will arrest me.” He too felt betrayed. “We were with the government of Iraq and the Americans. The arrests can’t happen without the permission of the Americans.”

  Jihad was a desperate area. Most young men had no jobs, Ibrahim said, and there were a lot of widows. There were many poor people and IDPs who didn’t get any compensation. “You have to spend a lot of money to register,” he told me. The Americans used to control the area firmly, he said, but since the Status of Forces Agreement took effect in January 2009, the Americans stopped coming around much, and whenever Ibrahim contacted them they told him he should talk to the Iraqi government. Although people started to return after security improved, once the arrests started again some fled anew. “People felt like it was a plan to make us come back and arrest us,” he said. “It’s only Sunnis being arrested.” I met him alongside two members of the local council for Jihad and Furat, which had a total of twenty members. They all believed the Iraqi government was still sectarian and that when the Americans left the Iranians would occupy the country and fighting would resume. Only those loyal to Iran wanted the Americans to leave, they told me. Despite all this, Ibrahim had a positive view of Prime Minister Maliki.

  Across Baghdad, I met other Awakening leaders who were experiencing the same frustrations that Ibrahim had. In Adhamiya I met Abu Omar, or Khalil Ibrahim, one of the Awakening leaders in the area. It was the birthday of the Prophet Muhammad, the first time I had ever seen a festive mood and celebration in a Sunni part of the country, yet Abu Omar was not in a festive mood himself. I found him chatting with American soldiers across the street from the mosque. When he finished with them, he took me to sit with him on plastic chairs in the square by the mosque. Abu Omar had dark red skin, a bulbous nose, small eyes, and a large belly. As we sat and drank tea, small boys ran around us. One of them, whose father was a slain Awakening fighter, played with a plastic pistol, shooting at us. The main square was adorned with pictures of slain Awakening fighters, including two of Abu Omar’s sons. I worried about suicide bombers, since several of Adhamiya’s Awakening leaders had been killed by them. And it was a Yemeni suicide bomber who killed one of Abu Omar’s sons.

  Adhamiya was the last Sunni enclave in eastern Baghdad. “If the Awakening wasn’t here, then in twenty years the Iraqi army and U.S. Army wouldn’t be able to come in,” Abu Omar said proudly, bragging that “this was the third-hottest area in Iraq.” He was also proud that Saddam had made his last appearance in his neighborhood. Abu Omar fought the Americans on that day as well. “There were eleven Syrians [foreign fig
hters], God have mercy on them,” he said. “They were martyred here.” I asked him how he could collaborate with his former enemies. “The Americans are leaving, but the Iranians are staying,” he told me.

  In November 2007 Abu Omar joined the Awakening in his area with thirteen other family members. “Two previous groups tried but failed,” he said. “They sat and would watch the killers.” Most of the killers were from outside Adhamiya, he said. Abu Omar had been a noncommissioned officer in Iraqi army intelligence, with nineteen years of service. He claimed that after the war he was jobless and sold gasoline on the black market. “We saw the killing and kidnapping,” he said, and wanted to put an end to it. The Americans approached them through the Sunni endowment. After an initial confrontation with Al Qaeda, Abu Omar and his men seized the Abu Hanifa Mosque. A comrade called Abu Muthana got on the mosque’s loudspeakers and issued a statement to the people of Adhamiya, announcing the establishment of their Awakening group and their aim to rid the area of Al Qaeda. (Abu Muthana had since been arrested by the Iraqi authorities.) After Abu Muthana’s statement, Al Qaeda men in nearby buildings opened fire on them, and one of Abu Omar’s men was killed. Abu Omar says his men captured many Al Qaeda members and handed them over to the Americans.