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President Saddam Hussein iron ruled Iraq for 24 years. The Fifth President of Iraq, dictated with brutal firmness. The tough neighborhood of the Middle East was patrolled. Saddam in his younger days participated in a murder and then escaped by donkey to Syria.
His health minister in earlier years disagreed with him on policy at a Cabinet meeting. Descriptively claimed, Saddam saw the Minister after this meeting in his office. He removed a revolver out of his desk drawer and shot the minister point blank. He called his assistant afterwards and asked
could you please replace my white sofa?
While working in Iraq, I got called urgently to see my Iraq counterpart at the Red Crescent. He never bothered me nor requested urgent meetings. He helped negotiate lots of difficult situations in the post-Gulf War I situation. I rushed cross-town to his office. Dr. Ahmad sat at his desk alone.
He asked me about a food distribution in North Iraq near Mosul. At the time, CRS was distributing WFP food aid to needy families. It was in an area with mixed villages especially Kurdish people. Since we gave assistance to hundreds of villages, I knew our convoys but not specific towns. I told Dr. Ahmad that I didn’t know the details.
Dr. Ahmad said he got a call from the President’s office about our distribution in two adjoining villages. He told me the President’s office never bothers about specific distributions nor calls. However, this rang President Saddam’s bell. The Red Crescent head requested me as CRS director to stop food distributions to the villages immediately. There was no choice but to abide by the President’s office. Dr. Ahmad made it clear it became a third rail issue and don’t touch it.
In the textbook, experts could clamor that you must “negotiate humanitarian access.” This was not a negotiated settlement. I envisioned the big picture and followed the autocratic orders.
We never figured out exact reasons for the President’s office to stop the village food distributions. A secret Iraq military facility could be there. Perhaps there were Kurdish fighters hiding there. The towns could have harbored or were populated by anti-government supporters. Or did they contain criminals which the regime was seeking? Or foreigners possibly monitoring distributions?
Baghdad is one of the hottest capital cities during summer. I did endure a frigid 123.8 F (51 C) afternoon. Toasty. You break off from the office at noon for a small lunch and then an afternoon siesta until five was the modus of survival.
My routine after work was to savor a cooling-off swim at the hotel pool. The Meridien Hotel contained a large pool with gardens. I would swim most evenings. It was my retreat from stress of working in Iraq.
Usually, there was a large Iraqi man who came to the pool and swam his laps. His plainclothes security guy would discreetly glance around, place his bag, and then quietly sit at a table in a side garden alcove. I knew he was a VIP.
My fellow swimmer would always greet me with a big smile, friendly wave and warm greeting but never engaged in conversation. One day, my Iraqi secretary was working late since offices and rooms were all in the hotel. She came down to the pool for me to sign something urgent. She saw the Iraq gentlemen who would swim at the same time. The next day entering my office, she closed the door. She asked me,
do you know who you are swimming with?
I replied,
no idea.
She went on to tell me that was one of Saddam’s top general. He was a four-star general and had some sort of control over military intelligence and special forces. Iraq security conservatively killed over 250,000 people during Saddam’s rule.
I remained careful of my fellow swimmer with that sort of biography. My smile and hello stayed bright. He likely already complied a security dozier about me. I was at a time the longest American living and working in post-Gulf War I Iraq.
One night, I was resting after laps at the far corner in the pool end. My Iraqi “friend” was swimming his laps and stopped for a breather close to me but away from the lifeguard and the few people seating around the pool.
He approached me in a low voice and said, indeed I know you’re doing good work which is appreciated and helping Iraqi people. While patting his belly, he looked at me and said,
the big guy always eats.
He quickly dove underwater and continued his laps.
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