Travelling where you are not in charge : Ken Gibbs

Ruins at Hatra, Iraq

Recently, I remembered some ‘events’ at check points that we had to pass;

a) To get from Amman to Baghdad and

b) from Baghdad to Erbil and, of course, in the reverse direction, too

Typically, to exit Erbil back to the real world (at that time), took the best part of a week – to get all the permits and so on. It meant that when my mother died in the UK, and I was in Erbil, I was unable to return to attend her funeral, which was sad for me but as all my four brothers were there, the family was well represented.

With the distances that we were required to travel, it would have been easier and quicker had we been able to fly everywhere. However, the No-Fly-Zone put paid to air travel for most of the time. Only once during my time in Iraq, did I fly from Baghdad to Amman. It was on the day following the death of Princess Diana in Paris.

 
Given the situation, since the Check Points were manned by the Iraqis themselves, when UN staff came through, we were not exactly welcomed and there were times when Check Point staff wanted to make life for us as difficult as possible.

The first time I came to Iraq for the Food for Oil programme, I was travelling as a UN consultant, so came with my own laptop as is normal in every other country in the world. When we arrived at the Jordan/Iraq border, all our luggage was taken out of the car and placed on the ground for staff to examine. My laptop was taken out of my suitcase and I was asked what it was.

“My personal laptop computer” said I.
“Not permitted”, I was told. 

There was quite some discussion about this, so I suggested that it be ‘sealed’ so I couldn’t use it till UNICEF had cleared it with the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. With some ill grace, this was accepted and the computer case was sealed.

 
Philippe Heffinck, with whom I stayed for one night before launching for Erbil, said that this was something of a game for Iraq – so we never knew what they were going to try the next time.  I believe that Philippe had a quiet word with the appropriate counterpart staff member, probably saying that while the laptop was inoperative, no progress could happen on the Supply Lists for SCR 986, so could they have some system to avoid these unnecessary delays, please ? Whatever happened between the two of them, I never had a delayed laptop after this, even though I had to wait for around 6 weeks for it to be delivered to Erbil this first time around.

Between Baghdad and Erbil there were four or five check points. At each of these, our driver would take our passports and present them, while we remained in the car.  On one occasion, the Chief Check Point-er came over to the car in which I was the only passenger, and asked “American ?”I responded – as politely as I could – “No, Zimbabwean” (which is where I was born). There was an exchange between the driver and the Chief, and our driver says to me, “then why aren’t you black ?”  My response was that my mother had dropped me in the bleach as a baby – which, when it had been translated into Arabic, caused great hilarity and we were waved straight on.

Humour seems to have been useful from time to time, and the previous encounter had a parallel when I was working for OXFAM some time later, posted to Mindanao.  We had arrived at a check point which was manned by the Philippino Army. Because Mindanao is as far from Manila as it is possible to be in The Philippines, the army’s discipline was not monitored as it perhaps should have been. On arrival, it was clear that most of the staff manning the check point were blind drunk and the conversation between our driver and the army Captain (?) followed the same “American ?”, “No, Zimbabwean” pattern, causing the same confusion. Being “dropped in the bleach” seemed to mollify the Captain and we were waved on through. Lucky. His being paralytically drunk and holding a loaded rifle was not the most reassuring situation.

In Iraq, cameras were banned, for some of us. This was logical because if we could photograph missile emplacements and forward the photo by email, say, then this would be a disadvantage for the Iraqis. However, there were one or two cameras in Erbil – probably from staff who were there before the wars – so we occasionally got group photos of the staff in Erbil.

 
The only photos I have of Iraq are ones which our SPO took while he and I visited Hatra where considerable conservation of the original Parthian buildings was taking place. The SPO had a blue passport (while, as a consultant, I had to use my national passport). Quite why he was allowed a camera and I was not, I never did fathom, but an abundance of caution led me to leaving my cameras at home. Mobile phones (with in-built camera) had not become widespread and small enough to fit in a pocket by then.

There had been a market in Kurdish Iraq for precious items like watches, high spec binoculars, crystal glass sets and the like – because sanctions had hit the Kurdish population very hard indeed and they sought to exchange anything for money, just for their own survival. Some expatriates exploited this market to their own advantage while others tried to give fair value.

 
At the Iraq/Jordan Check Point, one of the expatriates exiting the country was found to have a very nice pair of binoculars which had been bought from someone in Erbil, so I was given to understand.  He was asked what they were used for ? His answer was misunderstood, so a fully fluent Arabic/English speaker was summoned to assist.  The Check-Point staff member had understood the expatriate to have said that the binoculars were for watching sheeps. The staff member was mystified – was this some long-range, pornographic bestial variant ? When the fluent Arabic/English speaker became involved, he was able to clarify that it was just for watching maritime movements (ships). At least it wasn’t for spotting SAM 7 placements, and he was allowed to proceed with the binoculars.

Not all ‘irregular’ purchases from Iraqi Kurds were picked up at check points.  One staff member who had worked in Erbil for quite a long time, had managed to buy some exquisite cut glass at below rock bottom prices so we were told, and when her ‘luggage’ had started its journey back to her home country, she rather unwisely discussed her purchase and its exit from Iraq with a colleague who was horrified. The consignment had just arrived in Amman where the glass was discovered and returned. History doesn’t relate whether the glass was returned to whoever sold it to the UNICEF staff member, but at least it wasn’t allowed as plunder.

My own final exit from Erbil, returning home, was sad for me. I was having to say farewell to a small group of really loyal colleagues, knowing that I might never see them again. They had insisted on coming to the first check-point outside Erbil where they remained safe provided they stayed on the Kurdish side. They had been party to an historic programme and I suppose they were grateful that we had made a very effective team.

 
I just hoped that my successors were accorded the same loyalty – and from messages from one of them, my secretary, who had tutored me in the recent history of the population in the Northern Governorates of Iraq; helped in translations and shared my dreadful sense of humour, and who remained positive at all times even when under attack at one time, made for a lasting bond between us. His wife lectured in English and I think she felt my handling of my mother tongue might benefit from some improvement from time to time. . . .so, any XUNICEF member tempted to leave a comment to this article is encouraged not to let her know the truth, thank you.