daughter Zeina ‘had some work’ in Iraq and would soon be travelling to Baghdad, the grandmother could not contain her composure and gave praises in her still youthful voice. She looked at the miracle-working picture and shouted, ‘I kiss your hand, Virgin Maryam, for these good tidings.’
XIV
If Colonel Peterson hadn ’ t been an officer with our forces in Iraq, he could have made a lot of money as a Hollywood actor. I went in to meet him and receive my assignment on my first morning in Tikrit, and found myself standing in front of a handsome giant in his fifties, with thick eyebrows and a high chin, and a few attractive silver hairs shining through his dark locks. He resembled Burt Lancaster in From Here to Eternity . The colonel stood up, shook my hand with his soft plump palm that felt like an airbag, and said, ‘You got here just in time.’
They had one translator and urgently needed a second one, for reasons that I would later understand. A previous night they’d raided a palace that belonged to Saddam’s wife and in which they found countless documents and IDs, and large amounts of money. They wanted to be able to read everything. The colonel took me to an adjacent room, where two tables were covered with sparkling jewellery and ornaments. So these were the kinds of surprises that came with the job. It was like being in a jewellery store in the gold market in Dubai. A pile of papers written in Arabic caught my eye. I leafed through them and came across the Iraqi citizenship certificate belonging to Saddam’s wife, with a youthful photo of her with thick black hair and an upturned nose. Next to the photo was her name, written in blue ink: Sajida Khairallah Talfah.
I felt a cold shiver down my spine as I imagined whose fingers had touched this document before mine. But this wasn’t the time for daydreaming. I pulled myself together and told the colonel what the document was. He took it and put it in a folder and wrote something on it. He then led me to the other side of the table and pointed, with his palms opening like a magician performing an amazing trick, to something on the floor and watched for my reaction. Wow! My eyes took in piles and piles of hundred-dollar bills. So many new bundles of money that looked like they’d just been issued by the Bank of America. They were ordered tidily in two-foot-high stacks.
‘Oh my God!’ I cried out before I could stop myself. I bent down and was about to pick one up, but pulled my hand back before touching it and looked to the colonel for permission, who nodded encouragingly. ‘Sure, go ahead.’
The bundle I held in my hand might have been ten thousand dollars. I wouldn’t know because I’d never seen so much money in my life, not even in the biggest casino in Las Vegas. And these were dollars and not gambling chips. ‘Is this real money?’ I asked.
‘Of course.’
‘Aren’t you worried that it might get stolen?’
As soon as I’d uttered the question I realised how inappropriate it was, but it was too late to take it back. No, I didn’t mean, and it hadn’t at all crossed my mind, that one of our soldiers could steal any of the money. If I, for instance, had happened to find a fortune in one of the cupboards of the kitchen where I slept, I wouldn’t have taken a cent for myself.
I had an experience in a mall in Miami once that I considered a test of character. I’d been browsing through the expensive handbags when I found a bulging purse on the shelf. At first I thought it was one of the items on display. Then I realised it looked second hand and that someone must have left it there. I opened the purse and found fifteen hundred dollars in hundreds and twenties. I didn’t attempt to hide it or stick it in my bag and hurry out. I took it, matter-of-factly, to the store security, brought out the ID inside it and asked them to call the woman in front of me. I wanted to make sure that the purse would be returned to her. Mind you, I’m not
XIV
If Colonel Peterson hadn ’ t been an officer with our forces in Iraq, he could have made a lot of money as a Hollywood actor. I went in to meet him and receive my assignment on my first morning in Tikrit, and found myself standing in front of a handsome giant in his fifties, with thick eyebrows and a high chin, and a few attractive silver hairs shining through his dark locks. He resembled Burt Lancaster in From Here to Eternity . The colonel stood up, shook my hand with his soft plump palm that felt like an airbag, and said, ‘You got here just in time.’
They had one translator and urgently needed a second one, for reasons that I would later understand. A previous night they’d raided a palace that belonged to Saddam’s wife and in which they found countless documents and IDs, and large amounts of money. They wanted to be able to read everything. The colonel took me to an adjacent room, where two tables were covered with sparkling jewellery and ornaments. So these were the kinds of surprises that came with the job. It was like being in a jewellery store in the gold market in Dubai. A pile of papers written in Arabic caught my eye. I leafed through them and came across the Iraqi citizenship certificate belonging to Saddam’s wife, with a youthful photo of her with thick black hair and an upturned nose. Next to the photo was her name, written in blue ink: Sajida Khairallah Talfah.
I felt a cold shiver down my spine as I imagined whose fingers had touched this document before mine. But this wasn’t the time for daydreaming. I pulled myself together and told the colonel what the document was. He took it and put it in a folder and wrote something on it. He then led me to the other side of the table and pointed, with his palms opening like a magician performing an amazing trick, to something on the floor and watched for my reaction. Wow! My eyes took in piles and piles of hundred-dollar bills. So many new bundles of money that looked like they’d just been issued by the Bank of America. They were ordered tidily in two-foot-high stacks.
‘Oh my God!’ I cried out before I could stop myself. I bent down and was about to pick one up, but pulled my hand back before touching it and looked to the colonel for permission, who nodded encouragingly. ‘Sure, go ahead.’
The bundle I held in my hand might have been ten thousand dollars. I wouldn’t know because I’d never seen so much money in my life, not even in the biggest casino in Las Vegas. And these were dollars and not gambling chips. ‘Is this real money?’ I asked.
‘Of course.’
‘Aren’t you worried that it might get stolen?’
As soon as I’d uttered the question I realised how inappropriate it was, but it was too late to take it back. No, I didn’t mean, and it hadn’t at all crossed my mind, that one of our soldiers could steal any of the money. If I, for instance, had happened to find a fortune in one of the cupboards of the kitchen where I slept, I wouldn’t have taken a cent for myself.
I had an experience in a mall in Miami once that I considered a test of character. I’d been browsing through the expensive handbags when I found a bulging purse on the shelf. At first I thought it was one of the items on display. Then I realised it looked second hand and that someone must have left it there. I opened the purse and found fifteen hundred dollars in hundreds and twenties. I didn’t attempt to hide it or stick it in my bag and hurry out. I took it, matter-of-factly, to the store security, brought out the ID inside it and asked them to call the woman in front of me. I wanted to make sure that the purse would be returned to her. Mind you, I’m not
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