On Photography, Nothing More

Baghdad Before the Bombs

fotojournalismus:

By Alexandra Boulat

Photographs by Alexandra Boulat

Published in National Geographic Magazine’s June 2003 issue.

January 1, 2003 : 

“Enough pictures!” says an Iraqi soldier, stopping for tea at one of Baghdad’s many falafel stands shortly before the U.S.-led coalition invasion of Iraq. Iraqis love to be photographed, but I’d already taken a whole roll of these guys at the military parade. They seemed edgy as U.S. forces gathered on the Iraqi border.

February 11, 2003 :  

On the first day of Id al-Adha, Muslims everywhere go to cemetaries to visit their dead. Here, at al Baratha in Baghdad, the cemetary is filled with hundreds of graves of children, many of them dating from the early years of the UN embargo, before the Oil-for-Food program began in 1996. People say that during those years, dozens of dead children were buried in this place every day.

February 16, 2003 :  

During a ceremony at the Martyrs Monument, a number of military officials came to lay flowers in memory of the hundreds of thousands of Iraqis who died in the Iran-Iraq war. All of them stood still, straight and impassive. Once the ceremony ended, these Republican Guards moved in lockstep back to their bus. Perfection was part of the regime’s image. All the monuments and palaces were designed in grandiose style. And the Iraqis themselves seemed very concerned about keeping up appearances.

March 12, 2003 : 

The Iraqi people cannot imagine the invasion of their country by Americans, and even the thought of it is forbidden. The topic is taboo. Most of them secretly wish that Saddam would disappear, but not at the price of an American invasion. For it is not war they fear but consequences. Yet without admitting it, the people are waiting for war. And so am I. Over time, the constant tension between the hope for peace and the fear of war becomes so unbearable that everyone ends up wishing that war would just begin.

March 15, 2003 : 

Accompanied by her husband and three children, a woman in Baghdad waved goodbye to her mother, who was leaving on a bus for Damascus. As the war approached, many people in Iraq chose to take refuge in Syria until the situation returned to normal.

March 19, 2003, Palestine Hotel :  [the start of the invasion of Iraq]

The mood is so different today. People are scrambling to the shops to stock up on supplies. Families are packing, taping their windows, phoning overseas relatives one last time. Everyone in Baghdad knows war is about to crash down on them, but no one knows when. It’s hard to sleep or think clearly. So you’ve got a city of five million people who are completely stressed out and sleep deprived. You can see it in their faces.

It’s strange because even just last week, people were still trying to keep up a normal life, acting like nothing bad would happen. When I got here in January, I thought the Iraqis were in denial or maybe so hardened by past wars that they really weren’t afraid. But after talking to people, I realized they thought the idea of foreigners invading their country was crazy. They simply couldn’t believe it might really happen. So people carried on as if everything was fine. Just a few weeks ago I went to a wedding celebration that lasted two days and no one talked of war. It seemed as if everyone in Baghdad was getting married, fussing over food and clothes, and spending a fortune. If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought Iraq was on holiday, with spring just around the corner.

Now suddenly soldiers are piling sandbags everywhere. Most journalists have pulled out, and who can blame them? But I’ve decided to stay. I’ve been traveling around Iraq for months looking for clues to what is real here in the lives of ordinary Iraqis. It’s been difficult to figure out what people truly think and feel, made harder by the guys from Iraq’s Ministry of Information who’ve been assigned to watch my every move. But I’ve been here long enough, and kept my profile low enough, that occasionally people relax and let their guard down.

Even now, on the eve of war, most of the Iraqis I talk to believe they will survive. I spent the other evening with a well-to-do woman whose villa was filled with art and antiques. She has decided not to leave Baghdad. To protect her belongings against any damage, she had packed up most of her furniture. But the next morning she woke up in her empty house and felt so depressed that she unpacked everything. She says she’s not worried about the war, but about what will happen afterward. Who will rule Iraq? Will there be a civil war? What will be left standing? Will Iraq survive as a country? These are the biggest questions of all, and no one here can answer them.

Field Notes : Alexandra Boulat

Q : Best

A : The Iraqi people were remarkable. Even as the war approached they remained friendly and open-minded toward foreigners. Rather than see us as representatives of a state, they treated us as if we were friends or brothers. They could have easily become aggressive or anxious because they were scared, but I saw no sign of that on the street. I still had the confidence of the people with whom I was working, so I was able to work quite freely.

Q : Worst

A : It was very stressful dealing with the Press Center, which depends upon the Ministry of Information. They give out ten-day visas, so every ten days I’d have to go back to get an extension. Each time it took two whole days to get things sorted out and to explain my case and convince them to let me stay. They seemed to enjoy it. 

I couldn’t see the need for them to be so strict. I was by myself. I had no TV crew. I just couldn’t understand what the problem was. Why didn’t they want me to stay? I think it was just a power game for them. Each time I had to deal with them, I didn’t know if they would allow me to stay or not.

Q : Quirkiest

A : The Iraqi government wanted to maintain their pride, so they told the people there wouldn’t be any war. As a result, the Iraqis didn’t take steps to prepare. I was out one day with my driver in Baghdad when I saw deep trenches newly excavated in front of some houses. “Aha! They’re digging trenches,” I said, thinking the people were about to erect barriers. “No,” my driver told me, “they’re just repairing the public water pipes.” 

Right before the bombing began, Baghdad utility workers behaved as if everything was normal.