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| War brought misery to
Iraqi town Once-lovely Iraqi resort now filled with suffering Gulf War brought era of pollution and cancer Hadani Ditmars, Chronicle Foreign Service |
Friday, February 15, 2002
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Basra, Iraq -- The view from the Basra Sheraton would be downright romantic if it weren't for the statues of dead Iraqi pilots pointing accusingly across the bay at Iran. The latticed windows reveal a scene of ships and fishermen, palm trees and sea promenades that could easily convince one that this ruined city is still the beautiful resort town it once was. But underneath the charming visual surface lie tales that would chill the bones of any tourist. Iraq's wealthiest and most exotic city before the Iran- Iraq and Gulf wars, Basra today bears the scars of two decades of warfare. With its sewage, water treatment and electrical facilities heavily bombed during the Gulf War, Basra's canal system is a huge sprawl of raw filth mixed with muddy rain waters. Those waters spawn diseases that are the prime factor in the city's high infant mortality rate. Because of the lack of maintenance and the absence of new investments, Iraq's drinking water supply systems and sewage evacuation networks have constantly deteriorated since the end of the Gulf War. In many areas they have broken down completely. The Red Cross has made an admirable effort to repair Basra's central Hamdan sewage treatment facility. But contracts to obtain the needed spare parts have often been subjected to "holds" under the terms of the United Nations' "oil for food" humanitarian program, slowing progress to a crawl. If the water doesn't get you here, the depleted uranium (DU) might. An estimated 300 tons of the stuff -- a heavy metal used in armor-piercing munitions that is a less radioactive byproduct of natural uranium -- was dropped on Iraq during the Gulf War. No conclusive link has been established between DU exposure and cancer, and radiation testing equipment needed for recording proper data on DU poisoning is unavailable in Iraq because of the international sanctions. But physicians at the Basra Maternity and Pediatrics Hospital have kept shocking photographic records of what they say are the effects of inhaling or ingesting DU-contaminated dust. In his sunlight-flooded office, hospital director Amr Issa al-Jabari graciously offers tea and then pulls out a book of photographs of "monster babies" -- some born without brains, or with their intestines outside their bodies, or with their nose where their eyes should be. "We have experienced seven times the normal number of birth defects and pediatric cancers since the end of the Gulf War," he said. Seated beneath a idyllic pre-war photo of Basra's waterfront, al-Jabari explained the theory of "radiation transference," or how radiation is spread by wind. Since DU, also known as Uranium-238, has a half-life estimated at over 4 billion years, the Basra area may be fighting poison virtually until the end of time. Even the palm trees suffer from mysterious diseases from the pollution and a sanctions-related lack of pesticides. "This is not just a local problem," al-Jabari added. "The border areas in Saudi Arabia and Kuwait were also affected by the bombing." He is convinced that authorities in those countries are deliberately suppressing DU-related health statistics for political gain. "How would it look if they point the finger at their ally -- the U.S.?" His voice rising to an emotional pitch of indignation, al-Jabari added, "What about all the American servicemen who are suffering from DU poisoning?" DU poisoning is often cited as a possible cause of the mysterious malady known as Gulf War syndrome, which afflicts an estimated 100,000 American veterans. Jinan Ghalib, the hospital's specialist in pediatric cancer, arrived to lead a tour of her wards. She is a petite woman with a pretty face, but her voice was a low monotone as she recited in near-automatic fashion a list of the cancer-treating drugs the hospital lacks. Her clinical tone might have reflected either stringent training or a kind of moral exhaustion. "We have fewer drugs available this year than we had last year," Ghalib said. "But the real problem is that we don't have consistency, so that a patient may not have a full course of, say, antibiotics or other drugs, and therefore will not heal properly with an incomplete course." She blamed the oil-for-food program, which comes up for renewal every six months and thus shortens the length of medical supply contracts to that span. A patient with high blood pressure, for example, must switch to a new medication every half year. Many families sell their last remaining possessions to pay for medicine that will only have a limited effect. Ghalib moved on to a ward where a young mother held her baby -- 42-day-old Ali, who is swathed in blankets and tubes and hooked up to an oxygen tank. The doctor said the baby had pneumonia complicated by marasmus (severe malnutrition). The mother is also suffering from anemia and malnutrition -- health issues in Basra, whose primarily oil-based economy was harder hit than Baghdad's after the Gulf War and whose rebuilding has lagged behind the capital because of its provincial location. The mother gently rocked her tiny boy in a slow, hypnotic rhythm. Her eyes were hollow as she glanced up at the visitors. In another ward, a better-fed and slightly older mother comforted her pale infant son, his head bald from chemotherapy treatment. The woman introduced herself as Rawdha Kadhim, a 30-year-old mother of three. She seemed to want to talk. "My child is suffering from leukemia," she said. "Just a few months ago, he started to have fever and flu-like symptoms. Then we took him to the hospital." The eventual diagnosis was a huge blow. In Basra, cancer usually means death. The doctor says that the child's chances of survival -- with the incomplete course of medicine available -- are slim. "We borrowed money from friends to buy medicine on the black market," Rawdha said, "but we couldn't find all that we needed there." Her eyes flashing with anger, Rawdha spoke of her family's pre-Gulf War existence: "We had a good life before. My father was a civil servant who earned a decent salary. "My childhood was beautiful. We used to have fun, play games, go on picnics. The lives my children have now are not the same. "I blame the Americans. I wish they would just leave us alone. We just want to be free to live normal lives." But a normal life in Basra is almost impossible -- even for the small percentage of sanctions-profiteering nouveau riche, whose villas stand out gaudily among the garbage-strewn streets. The sounds of Julio Iglesias emanated from an upscale restaurant in the new- money neighborhood of Bradhiya, where a huge outside generator ensures a plentiful supply of electricity (normally unavailable except at night). But the cuisine leaves something to be desired. A patron complained, "You see, the food has no flavor -- or if it does, it has a strange kind of aftertaste." "The rice we get in our monthly rations we just throw out; it tastes like cardboard," said another diner. Chewing on her lamb and rice, a foreign reporter pondered the grass that local sheep eat and the soil that it came from -- and the water used to boil the tasteless rice and the soil it grew in. The way back to the Sheraton takes visitors through the central market, where a huge portrait of President Saddam Hussein presides over a sign screaming Basra Shopping Centre. The area, a square kilometer or so of shops selling everything from food to football uniforms, bisected by a filthy canal of fetid water, was once middle class -- before that class disappeared in the early '90s. A distorted, warped-pitch version of the Beatles' "Yesterday" fills the Sheraton's cavernous lobby. The suites retain a faded grandeur, but the brown water that flows from the bathroom pipes is cut off at least once a day. The television offers a pirated Schwarzenegger film. Arnold -- a big star in Iraq -- arrives home one day to find that a clone has replaced him and taken over his life. He must spend the rest of the movie struggling to get back home, fighting to get his life back. Basrans still seem stuck in the last bit of the movie, before Arnold defeats the villains and arrives safely home. And they might never get back. Canadian journalist Hadani Ditmars recently returned from a monthlong reporting trip to Iraq. |
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