his mid-forties, kind eyes that seemed to hold a tinge of sadness, dark hair beginning to go grey at the sides. A sober blue business suit over a lemon open-necked shirt made for such a modern appearance that Alex felt she could be on Broadway – supper after the show. His wife, her dark hair in elaborate ringlets, wore a black shawl, tastefully embroidered in red and gold, over a white silk trouser suit.
‘That’s a beautiful wrap, Farrah,’ Alex said touching it.
‘Yes. An anniversary present from my husband – from Syria. Say one thing about Saddam, we can… we could wear what we like. For how much longer, I don’t know.’
Her husband took a bread stick from a holder on the table, snapped it in two, and began chewing, waving the other half in the air. ‘There is a feeling, particularly among women, that the religious zealots might now come to the fore… people are afraid.’
Alex needed another drink. Clenching her hands under the table, she braced herself and ordered fizzy water instead. Taking several sips in quick succession, the bubbles burst at the back of her throat, helping ease the cloying grime of the day.
Her heart went out to the couple when she learned Aban was out of a job, having held a senior position in the Ministry of Commerce. They had two sons and were now living off their savings.
‘But surely they’ll ask you back,’ Alex said. ‘The new administration here must desperately need men of your experience to carry on where you left off. I mean, the country’s in a terrible mess.’
‘Maybe. Who knows? Perhaps the Americans think they can run Iraq better than we did.’
They found Aban in talkative mood. Alex was happy at first, allowing herself to be the sponge of his anxiety. It deflected her own problems for a while. But, as he unloaded his fears for the future of the country, she could feel the tension rising within her.
A waiter came to the table. Greg pointed to the menu. ‘Masgouf.’
‘A very nice river fish, Alex,’ Aban said. ‘I have forgotten what it is called in English.’
‘River carp,’ Greg replied. ‘Okay for all?’ Everyone nodded in agreement.
‘Tell me,’ Alex said, ‘what was Saddam really like?’
Aban lowered his voice, looking about him. Old habits died hard. ‘You could say good and bad, but mostly bad. I believe he operated on two levels, fear and greed. A complex man, paranoid certainly, breathtakingly ruthless. But, under his reign Iraq made good progress. Infant mortality was down, literacy up – the highest school enrolment of any developing nation – healthcare improved enormously.’
He broke off to take a sip of water. ‘But it was a dictatorship all the same, one that must be measured against the worst human rights record in the world. That was until the sanctions took effect after the Gulf War and the country headed into serious decline. Can you imagine your child with cancer and no drugs other than paracetamol to treat the pain? A few weeks ago I could not speak like this. I dared not even think it, never.’
‘A few weeks ago, Aban, you were Aban Mohammed Ali,’ Greg said.
‘Yes, it is true. Saddam forbade any of us in high positionsfrom using our tribal names. Instead we had to use our own first name, then of our father, and that of our grandfather. So many of us Sunnis in government, you see – but no one could identify us as such by our name.’
The waiter brought the fish, filleted it at the table.
‘And how long are you in Baghdad, Alex?’ Farrah said.
Alex hesitated. ‘Perhaps rather stupidly, I’ve just accepted a stint for a few weeks embedded with an infantry unit – in a Bradley Fighting Vehicle.’ Her face suddenly turned serious. ‘I was due to go back home tomorrow… I’m not sure I’ve made the right decision. From what you say, things are going to get a lot worse.’
The table fell silent for a moment. Alex felt everyone’s eyes on her. She gulped and bit her bottom lip, unaware her fingers
‘That’s a beautiful wrap, Farrah,’ Alex said touching it.
‘Yes. An anniversary present from my husband – from Syria. Say one thing about Saddam, we can… we could wear what we like. For how much longer, I don’t know.’
Her husband took a bread stick from a holder on the table, snapped it in two, and began chewing, waving the other half in the air. ‘There is a feeling, particularly among women, that the religious zealots might now come to the fore… people are afraid.’
Alex needed another drink. Clenching her hands under the table, she braced herself and ordered fizzy water instead. Taking several sips in quick succession, the bubbles burst at the back of her throat, helping ease the cloying grime of the day.
Her heart went out to the couple when she learned Aban was out of a job, having held a senior position in the Ministry of Commerce. They had two sons and were now living off their savings.
‘But surely they’ll ask you back,’ Alex said. ‘The new administration here must desperately need men of your experience to carry on where you left off. I mean, the country’s in a terrible mess.’
‘Maybe. Who knows? Perhaps the Americans think they can run Iraq better than we did.’
They found Aban in talkative mood. Alex was happy at first, allowing herself to be the sponge of his anxiety. It deflected her own problems for a while. But, as he unloaded his fears for the future of the country, she could feel the tension rising within her.
A waiter came to the table. Greg pointed to the menu. ‘Masgouf.’
‘A very nice river fish, Alex,’ Aban said. ‘I have forgotten what it is called in English.’
‘River carp,’ Greg replied. ‘Okay for all?’ Everyone nodded in agreement.
‘Tell me,’ Alex said, ‘what was Saddam really like?’
Aban lowered his voice, looking about him. Old habits died hard. ‘You could say good and bad, but mostly bad. I believe he operated on two levels, fear and greed. A complex man, paranoid certainly, breathtakingly ruthless. But, under his reign Iraq made good progress. Infant mortality was down, literacy up – the highest school enrolment of any developing nation – healthcare improved enormously.’
He broke off to take a sip of water. ‘But it was a dictatorship all the same, one that must be measured against the worst human rights record in the world. That was until the sanctions took effect after the Gulf War and the country headed into serious decline. Can you imagine your child with cancer and no drugs other than paracetamol to treat the pain? A few weeks ago I could not speak like this. I dared not even think it, never.’
‘A few weeks ago, Aban, you were Aban Mohammed Ali,’ Greg said.
‘Yes, it is true. Saddam forbade any of us in high positionsfrom using our tribal names. Instead we had to use our own first name, then of our father, and that of our grandfather. So many of us Sunnis in government, you see – but no one could identify us as such by our name.’
The waiter brought the fish, filleted it at the table.
‘And how long are you in Baghdad, Alex?’ Farrah said.
Alex hesitated. ‘Perhaps rather stupidly, I’ve just accepted a stint for a few weeks embedded with an infantry unit – in a Bradley Fighting Vehicle.’ Her face suddenly turned serious. ‘I was due to go back home tomorrow… I’m not sure I’ve made the right decision. From what you say, things are going to get a lot worse.’
The table fell silent for a moment. Alex felt everyone’s eyes on her. She gulped and bit her bottom lip, unaware her fingers
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