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Local Elite In Iraq Losing Faith In U.S.
By
Amy Waldman
The New York Times
Wednesday 09 July 2003
Woes over security, electricity and water don't get
resolved
ABU GHRAIB, Iraq On a recent morning, the Abu Ghraib town council was hearing
the usual litany of complaints, offering its usual mix of help and, mostly,
impotence in return. Overhead, a fan turned, but the air did not.
The constituents' woes came down to the essentials. They had no
power, and thus no clean water - could they get generators? They had no security
- could they get weapons permits?
If anyone could help them, it should have been the man at the
center of the scene, Sheik Dari Hamis al-Dari. In April, he was selected by the
local tribes to lead Iraq's first freely formed town council after the fall of
Saddam Hussein. Since then, he has sat at this desk in a white robe and
headdress, in a room lined with men in tribal robes and Western dress all
looking to him for answers. He has not had many.
He could do nothing for the man who, lacking electricity, stayed
up all night fanning a sick child, nothing for the 5-year-old child who was left
legless by unexploded ordnance, a sight that caused him to weep. He could do
nothing for the multitudes complaining of cars, weapons or relatives taken by
U.S. forces, other than give their names to the Americans. He could do nothing
for those lacking drinking water or waiting for food rations.
"What do you tell the people - have more patience?" he asked
rhetorically the other day. "Till when?"
If America has natural allies in Iraq, they are men like Dari. He
attended the American Jesuit school in Baghdad, and then university in
Frankfurt. He has lived in Europe and speaks excellent English. He maintained
his independence throughout Saddam's rule, shunning the material blandishments
with which Saddam bought the loyalty of many tribal sheiks.
A part-time farmer and businessman, he is a member of the sizable
Zobaa tribe, which his brother heads. He welcomed the Americans in, and has
worked closely with their military commanders in his area.
So the impatience creeping into his voice and the frustration
lining his handsome face bode poorly for the fate of the U.S.-led occupation
here - even if they succeed in drawing Iraqis into a new national leadership.
There is no indication that Dari, who is 64, would turn on the Americans. He is
simply losing faith in them.
"Conditions have never been worse," he said bluntly last week.
"We've never been through such a long bad period."
Abu Ghraib - a largely agricultural area just west of Baghdad
that is also home to Iraq's most notorious prison - has had only one to three
hours of power a day in recent weeks. Drinking water cannot be pumped without
electricity, so people are taking water from dirty canals.
The food ration system that functioned smoothly under Saddam is
breaking down, out here at least. Trucks leave Baghdad laden with food, but it
mysteriously gets offloaded at markets along the way.
Crime, rare under the old government, is rampant. Dari's car was
taken from him at gunpoint in Baghdad recently. Four of his council members have
been the victims of carjacking attempts. And while the criminals are well-armed,
the Americans are disarming the victims, taking weapons while the weapons
licenses they insist on are in short supply.
"People here feel naked without their pistols," Dari said,
putting his own in a holster.
In a time of rising discontent, Dari is the buffer between
occupier and occupied. It is a role that, historically, has earned little
appreciation. Recent attacks on Iraqis cooperating with the Americans suggest
this chapter will be no different.
"We are stuck between the Americans and our people," he said of
the council, which sits, for no salary, from 8 a.m. to 2 p.m. daily. "And there
were so many promises from one side."
Some people are already calling the council "America lovers" and
traitors, he said, because they are working with the Americans and making things
easier for them.
"He's caught in the middle," one of Dari's American partners,
Lieutenant Colonel Jeff Ingram of the 1st Armored Division, acknowledged. "He
defends us a lot." These days, Dari is warning the Americans more than he is
defending them. When he first met with them, he said, he told them that they
didn't have much time to meet people's expectations. That time is almost up, he
believes.
"I'm not threatening you with another Vietnam - God forbid," he
said. "I'm just trying to get help for the people before something happens."
Something is already happening, of course. Out here, as across
much of Iraq, the attacks on Americans are stepping up. Ingram said his company
is being attacked at least once a day, fortunately by men who aren't very good
shots.
Ingram blames the Iraqis for most of the area's problems, saying
it is they who have torn down the power lines he fixed, they who are robbing one
another. "The U.S. is not the problem, it's the solution," he said.
But he too has questions about the slow pace of rebuilding. "I
would have expected the U.S., the biggest country in the world, to say here's
the water purification system, here's the big generator," he said.
As of last week, neither Dari nor Ingram had ever had any contact
with the U.S.-led civilian administration ostensibly governing Iraq, although
Dari oversees an area that is home to 900,000 people.
S. forces operating in the country, the U.S. military announced
early Wednesday, Agence France-Presse reported from Washington.
Mizban Khadr al-Hadi, number 23 on the list, a high-ranking
regional Ba'ath Party leader, turned himself in to U.S. troops in Baghdad,
according to the Central Command.
Former Interior Minister Mahmud Dhiyab al-Ahmad, number 29, was
captured at an unidentified location.
(In accordance with Title 17 U.S.C. Section 107, this material is distributed without profit to those who have expressed a prior interest in receiving the included information for research and educational purposes.)
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