"The Tsunami of Iraq" by Dahr Jamail
** Dahr Jamail's Iraq Dispatches **
** http://dahrjamailiraq.com **
January 15, 2005
The Tsunami of Iraq
The morgues at the hospitals of Baghdad are filling to capacity. At
Yarmouk Hospital in central Baghdad, the three freezers reek of
decaying
bodies, despite the temperature.
The smell rushes out at us as the doors are opened. I’ve smelled the
burning bodies on the funeral pires in Nepal…but this is different.
This
smell…how do I describe it? But it never leaves me, long after we leave
the hospital later.
The smell rushes out at us as the doors are opened. I’ve smelled the
burning bodies on the funeral pires in Nepal…but this is different.
This
smell…how do I describe it? But it never leaves me, long after we leave
the hospital later.
Many of the bodies
are from Fallujah, obviously picked off the streets-parts of which are
eaten by dogs
.
The bodies from Fallujah have the typical oddly discolored skin
,
along with other abnormalities
.
I walk out of the first freezer straight into a metal pole. Two of the
people with me, including Abu Talat, make sure I’m ok as I stand there
stunned…I didn’t even feel the pole, just that it stopped me from
proceeding to the next freezer.
Bodies are piled into the freezers
and most are uncovered, but not all. The hardest visuals to get out of
my head are those of the eyes
.
The doctor with us says that most of the bodies have been shot…and are
not from Fallujah. The violence against Iraqis continues
unabated…worsening by the day.
I do my job…taking photo after photo of the most horrible thing I’ve
ever seen in my life. Many of the bodies are so old they are shrinking
into themselves.
After the last cooler, we start to walk away. I am spitting, trying to
get the smell to leave me…Abu Talat is staring off into distance. After
I gag, the hospital worker who accompanied us to the coolers walks
towards me with a small vial of scent, and begins rolling it across my
upper lip.
“Shukran jazeelan (thank you very much),” I tell him, then he proceeds
to do the same for Abu Talat, then we walk on.
We talk with the doctor more as we shuffle along. “The morgues in all
the hospitals are filling with bodies everyday, most of them shot by
soldiers,” she says, “But also from crime and accidents. So many dead
civilians.”
We walk, well, kind of shuffle out of the hospital, towards the car.
“That is the most horrible
thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” I say to Abu Talat.
We get in the car and just drive.
“I don’t know what to do,” I tell him, “What do you want to do?”
He holds his hands up, expressing that he doesn’t know either. “Let’s
just drive,” I say.
“Ok, I’m just trying to drive,” he replies.
I decide to go buy some supplies…grasping towards normalcy as I catch
whiffs of the decaying bodies despite the nice smelling scent that was
rubbed across my upper lip.
We buy some lunch only because it’s lunch time and we’re supposed to be
hungry, then drive the rest of the way to the hotel.
My head is spinning, as is Abu Talat’s. “I am traumatized,” I tell him.
“Yes, my head is spinning also,” he replies before adding, “I want to
take a shower.”
“I wish I could shower from the inside,” I tell him.
“From the outside it’s very easy,” he says quietly, “But how do we
clean
from the inside?”
We go to my room and I begin writing. The food sits in its bag on the
couch…Abu Talat says, “In Islam, if we touch a dead body, even if we
just see one, we should shower,” he says while walking into the
bathroom.
He pauses as he catches me staring out the window at nothing, “Hey,
don’t think about it. I know it is hard.” I slowly look up at him as he
adds, “It is harder on me, because I am Iraqi. My heart is shredding.”
He walks into the bathroom of my hotel room to take a shower, as I go
back to writing this.
Nobody knows who these dead people are. The coolers are full. Others
are
full too, in the other hospitals.
He finishes and begins to pray as I start my shower, trying to wash the
bodies away. It helps, some.
But it’s the eyes
that got me. And they won’t go away.
_______________________________________________
More writing, photos and commentary at http://dahrjamailiraq.com
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(c)2004 Dahr Jamail.
All images and text are protected by United States and international
copyright law. If you would like to reprint Dahr's Dispatches on the web,
you need to include this copyright notice and a prominent link to the
DahrJamailIraq.com website. Any other use of images and text including,
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** http://dahrjamailiraq.com **
January 15, 2005
The Tsunami of Iraq
The morgues at the hospitals of Baghdad are filling to capacity. At
Yarmouk Hospital in central Baghdad, the three freezers reek of
decaying
bodies, despite the temperature.
The smell rushes out at us as the doors are opened. I’ve smelled the
burning bodies on the funeral pires in Nepal…but this is different.
This
smell…how do I describe it? But it never leaves me, long after we leave
the hospital later.
The smell rushes out at us as the doors are opened. I’ve smelled the
burning bodies on the funeral pires in Nepal…but this is different.
This
smell…how do I describe it? But it never leaves me, long after we leave
the hospital later.
Many of the bodies
are from Fallujah, obviously picked off the streets-parts of which are
eaten by dogs
The bodies from Fallujah have the typical oddly discolored skin
along with other abnormalities
I walk out of the first freezer straight into a metal pole. Two of the
people with me, including Abu Talat, make sure I’m ok as I stand there
stunned…I didn’t even feel the pole, just that it stopped me from
proceeding to the next freezer.
Bodies are piled into the freezers
and most are uncovered, but not all. The hardest visuals to get out of
my head are those of the eyes
The doctor with us says that most of the bodies have been shot…and are
not from Fallujah. The violence against Iraqis continues
unabated…worsening by the day.
I do my job…taking photo after photo of the most horrible thing I’ve
ever seen in my life. Many of the bodies are so old they are shrinking
into themselves.
After the last cooler, we start to walk away. I am spitting, trying to
get the smell to leave me…Abu Talat is staring off into distance. After
I gag, the hospital worker who accompanied us to the coolers walks
towards me with a small vial of scent, and begins rolling it across my
upper lip.
“Shukran jazeelan (thank you very much),” I tell him, then he proceeds
to do the same for Abu Talat, then we walk on.
We talk with the doctor more as we shuffle along. “The morgues in all
the hospitals are filling with bodies everyday, most of them shot by
soldiers,” she says, “But also from crime and accidents. So many dead
civilians.”
We walk, well, kind of shuffle out of the hospital, towards the car.
“That is the most horrible
thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” I say to Abu Talat.
We get in the car and just drive.
“I don’t know what to do,” I tell him, “What do you want to do?”
He holds his hands up, expressing that he doesn’t know either. “Let’s
just drive,” I say.
“Ok, I’m just trying to drive,” he replies.
I decide to go buy some supplies…grasping towards normalcy as I catch
whiffs of the decaying bodies despite the nice smelling scent that was
rubbed across my upper lip.
We buy some lunch only because it’s lunch time and we’re supposed to be
hungry, then drive the rest of the way to the hotel.
My head is spinning, as is Abu Talat’s. “I am traumatized,” I tell him.
“Yes, my head is spinning also,” he replies before adding, “I want to
take a shower.”
“I wish I could shower from the inside,” I tell him.
“From the outside it’s very easy,” he says quietly, “But how do we
clean
from the inside?”
We go to my room and I begin writing. The food sits in its bag on the
couch…Abu Talat says, “In Islam, if we touch a dead body, even if we
just see one, we should shower,” he says while walking into the
bathroom.
He pauses as he catches me staring out the window at nothing, “Hey,
don’t think about it. I know it is hard.” I slowly look up at him as he
adds, “It is harder on me, because I am Iraqi. My heart is shredding.”
He walks into the bathroom of my hotel room to take a shower, as I go
back to writing this.
Nobody knows who these dead people are. The coolers are full. Others
are
full too, in the other hospitals.
He finishes and begins to pray as I start my shower, trying to wash the
bodies away. It helps, some.
But it’s the eyes
that got me. And they won’t go away.
_______________________________________________
More writing, photos and commentary at http://dahrjamailiraq.com
You are subscribed to the Dahr Jamail's email Iraq Dispatches because
you requested a subscription at some point.
You can visit http://dahrjamailiraq.com/email_list/ to subscribe or
unsubscribe to the email list.
Or, you can unsubscribe by sending an email to
iraq_dispatches-request@dahrjamailiraq.com and write unsubscribe in the
subject or the body of the email.
(c)2004 Dahr Jamail.
All images and text are protected by United States and international
copyright law. If you would like to reprint Dahr's Dispatches on the web,
you need to include this copyright notice and a prominent link to the
DahrJamailIraq.com website. Any other use of images and text including,
but not limited to, reproduction, use on another website, copying and
printing requires the permission of Dahr Jamail. Of course, feel free to
forward Dahr's dispatches via email.
Iraq_Dispatches mailing list
http://lists.dahrjamailiraq.com/mailman/listinfo/iraq_dispatches
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