The Iraqi Police are Either Inept or Corrupt

The Iraqi police are either inept or corrupt. The best one can hope for is some combination of both; meaning they are just ineffective at shaking you down. Of course, having a few dinar taken is nothing next to ending up in a mass grave just beyond the bounds of Baghdad; a fate known to many in my mostly Shiite neighborhood. These guys only want American currency anyway. Before the U.S. invasion I'd never seen a U.S. dollar, but when the Americans rolled in, they brought with them millions of dollars in cash, mostly hundred dollar bills. I've now heard the phrase 'greasing the wheels', which I know to mean bribing local clerics and anyone else who might hold some sway over public opinion. The effectiveness of this strategy would seem to be in doubt. There is no mistaking the presence, now, of a secondary economy based on the one hundred dollar bill. Having a Benjamin Franklin is a symbol of very high status. It requires that you are either someone of great importance, or you've managed to kill someone of great importance, itself a kind of transaction. Many high-value goods and services in Baghdad are now offered only in exchange for increments of one hundred U.S. dollars, simply because no one wishes to diminish the cache' of Benjamin.

If spent in the wrong place, though, American money can get one murdered. There are many Iraqi's who work for the Americans inside the Green Zone. These men and women are scared even to tell their own families about the true nature of their work. They change into high fashion office-wear after leaving home in the morning, and change back into less conspicuous attire before returning. These are not bad people, they are simply trying to avoid becoming the targets of one faction or another, or simply the victims of bandits (an aside: Bandits have assumed romantic connotations of late. They are murderers, yes, but they hold allegiance to no god, no state, and no warring faction. Their crimes are individuating in a society that has come to abhor individualism. They are scoundrels with a silent, though legion, fan base.). But, along with learning to lie to their loved ones, these U.S. employed Iraqi's also learn where their U.S. dollars can be safely spent. Since the invention of this new breed of Iraqi, numerous shadow clubs have cropped up throughout the city. The addresses of these places belong to the ephemera, constantly shifting and known only to those with connections to those who know. Clubs like this are referred to by Iraqi's as dollar pubs, as the only currency accepted is that of the occupier, and those who would do their work. The dollar pubs trade in things not available to typical Iraqi's, such as sex, alcohol, and other illicit drugs. Halal is not a concern. One can imagine why an air of secrecy is kept about these places. The need for the dollar pubs to maintain anonymity is what encourages those with U.S. currency to spend freely. Destruction is mutually assured should word slip to the wrong people.

The 'wrong people' is an interesting phrase these days. Most of those who used to be known to me as neighbors have now either fled the country, seeking refuge in Jordan, Iran, or Syria; or have been cut down in their homes, in their cars, or in their office parks by the insurgents/terrorists/loyalists/mercenaries, or whoever. As it is now, the entire population of Iraq is comprised of only the 'wrong people'. It is an improvised society, bound only by the velocities of violence. Death, of course, is a constant throughout the world. However, in Baghdad, carnage is our only constant. The shrieking mothers praise Allah when their child's lifeless body retains form enough to allow for a viewing before its deposit into the earth. To die of old age or disease is a luxury no longer afforded those outside the Green Zone. There is a joke in Baghdad that praises Iraqi genius in discovering a cure for cancer; sectarian violence. So, if only the 'wrong people' are left here, I wonder, what does this say about me?

Last week there was a large explosion inside one of the open air markets I happen to frequent. After the last of the remains of what used to be 35 human beings was scraped from the pavement, the police determined that the source of the explosion was a small pigeon cage which had contained actual live pigeons. It has since been advised that any pigeon-related activity be relayed to the proper authorities. Who those proper authorities might be, remains to be seen. There are as many people saying the Iraqi police planted the pigeon-bomb as there are those who feel it was the Americans, or Sadr's Sunni's (sounds like a footballing club). In truth, The Authority is whoever happens to have his boot on your throat at a given moment. The novelty of the attack has also spawned rumors of trained carrier pigeons, strapped with explosives, being employed by the Israelis as a means of striking Islam from afar. To worry about such things as who, or why is no longer relevant. It isn't relevant because it is everyone, for all reasons. One can either be crippled by the screws and nails used as shrapnel in the bombs that go off around the city, or he can be crippled by his fear. This is a false choice, but a large part of maintaining one's sanity is wrapped up in the ability to remain convinced that choices exist. A failure on this level is what compels many to explode themselves in the name of Allah. There is no path more certain than that which leads to paradise.

I will post again.