Read Online Babylon's Ark by Lawrence Anthony - Free Book Online Page A

but I pledged to get whatever passage and protection I could from the Americans. My staff, like all civilians, was not allowed even to approach checkpoints and had to come the long way around, through the bomb-blasted gate on the northern perimeter of the park. However, I had no doubt men such as Lieutenant Szydlik would assist us.
    Ticking with my fingers, I tabled our priorities.
    First we would get what water we could to the cages, as we had done yesterday. That was essential. Water was life.
    Next we would feed the animals with what was left of the buffalo meat from Kuwait.
    Then we would inspect the animals to determine which ones needed emergency medical attention. I stressed the word emergency, as the entire wrecked zoo’s inmates needed urgent care. I had brought a limited supply of medicines and antibiotics with me from the Kuwait City zoo—but unfortunately no sedatives—and said I would try to get disinfectant and other basic pharmaceuticals from the Americans.
    Hygiene would be the next priority; we would have to scrub the filthy cages until they were livable.

    Last, I repeated what I had said to Husham the day before. Any staff members who came back to work would be paid. As I said that I waved a crumpled dollar bill.
    â€œDollars make them more brave,” said Husham, and they all burst out laughing.
    I had been waiting for something positive to end the meeting on and decided this was it.
    â€œLet’s get started,” I said.
    That humble gathering of very ordinary men held in the shell of a wrecked office was possibly the most crucial—and emotive—meeting in the zoo’s history. Amid the chaos and carnage, without even a chair to sit on, the tiny group of men huddled around me as I outlined in the sand my vastly overoptimistic plan of action.
    Somehow, without me even knowing, my simple words— food, water, care, nurture ; the essence of Mother Earth—touched a chord. We were going to save the zoo, whether we dropped dead in the attempt or not. I could see it in their eyes. Their determination was tangible. Dr. Husham in particular was moved almost to tears.
    This was to be our stand. This was more than just a zoo in a war zone. It was about making an intrinsically ethical and moral statement, saying: Enough is enough. You just can’t say to hell with the consequences to the animal kingdom. It’s all very well getting rid of a monster like Saddam, but that doesn’t mean we can forget what we are doing to the rest of our planet. It doesn’t excuse a zoo getting trashed just because nobody had the foresight to put a basic survival plan in place for hundreds of animals utterly dependent on humans.
    As the men grabbed whatever receptacles they could to ferry water, I walked around the shattered grounds, stopping at every inhabited cage. It was an individual ritual I would go on to repeat daily, calling to each animal—be it a lion, tiger, or timid badger—and as it warily came to the bars I would speak softly, words of encouragement and comfort.
    First to come to me was Saedia, the blind brown bear. At last out of her terror-stricken fetal hug, she tentatively approached the bars.
Her eyes were milky opaque, but I sensed somehow she could picture me.
    â€œIt’s going to be all right, girl,” I said softly. “You’re going to be safe now. We’ve got nice food for you. We’ve got water for you to drink. When it gets too hot, we’re going to give you a nice long, cool shower. There’re going to be no more bombs here. It’s going to be all right.”
    She cocked her head. I believed she had acknowledged me. At least I wanted—needed—to believe that. I knew from past experience that it was vital to get an acknowledgment, be it as modest as a furtive look or a small body movement.
    I moved on to the next cage, then the next, speaking quietly until I got some form of recognition, no matter how insignificant,