Iraq. Part III. Al-Hindiya, Babylon, Hillah, Najaf

April 15–20, 2012

Sandstorms are beautiful.

There are other military vehicles here besides Humvees. The second most common type is a Ford.

In third place are these mysterious military trucks.

Al-Hindiya

A traffic controller at his post. Invariably with a water cooler.

Al-Hindiya is interesting for having the world’s largest population of RAF minibuses (the USSR’s most widely used and practically only minibus model) in running order. There are hundreds of them here. They serve as shuttle buses.

Babylon

The ancient city of Babylon, described in detail in the Bible and other sources, led a tranquil and undisturbed existence until German archaeologists showed up at the beginning of the 20th century, dug it up, marveled at its beauty, and stole all of it back to Germany (if the English could do it, why couldn’t they?). All that was left was ruins and outlines.

Then Saddam Hussein, who was as stupid as he was vain, came to power. And gave orders to fix up the ruins—who wants to see a pile of old bricks, after all? Everything was conscientiously rebuilt with new yellow brick. The result came out looking like a 70s-80s era residence for high-ranking Soviet functionaries.

The director of the museum demonstrates a photograph (the top left one) where you can see the arch (in the background, it’s the thing that looks like a mouse hole) before its restoration.

At least now they can show the place off with pride.

Saddam liked that some of the old bricks had cuneiform impressions.

So impressions with Saddam’s name were made on some of the new bricks. About how great he is and how he’s the son of Nebuchadnezzar and all that.

Before and after.

In Babylon, every last corner is historic. This stage, for instance, which looks like it belongs in a community theater, is actually the throne of King Belshazzar. It was right here that he saw the mysterious fiery writing on the wall.

Rembrandt even created a painting on the subject (Belshazzar looks like the Russian actor Leonid Yarmolnik here):

Some sort of crap in Hebrew [inscription on painting]

Saddam liked the result of his efforts so much that he decided to build one of his residences next to Babylon. In the form of a ziggurat.

And put it on top of a 50-meter high artificial hill.

Now the palace sits unused.

Even though it has some of the most valuable views in the world.

The main entrance to the palace is decorated with bas-reliefs of its owner’s profile. Saddam, the descendant of Hammurabi. Saddam, sun of the nation, leader of soldiers, workers and peasants.

Inside, the palace is in a state of neglect.

The floors are still intact.

The walls are covered with ornaments.

The grand entrance.

The grand staircase to the upper floors.

The elevators are out of order.

For a period of time, the palace served as a US military headquarters.

There’s practically no graffiti in English, however—the soldiers were evidently prohibited from self-expression of this type (yet in Babylon itself, the Americans set up a helipad and a parking lot for heavy vehicles and had no scruples whatsoever about removing a bunch of historical bricks from the famous Ishtar Gate).

The palace’s quality of construction is as bad as its owner’s taste. Reminds me of a certain other country I know.

The throne room with its formidably garish ceiling painting. On the right side is a dais for the throne, on the left—a basketball hoop.

The Jacuzzi.

A magnificent view of Babylon. I wonder how soon the Hilton Resort and Hotel Babylon will open here.

Our tour of the palace would be incomplete without a visit to the Russian hall.

Vasya was here. Natasha. Ksyusha I love you Valya

If they manage to find enough money, the disfigured Babylon will be returned to its original decayed state. All the modern bricks will be removed, and UNESCO will reinstate Babylon’s World Heritage Site status. Meanwhile, we can speculate about where Saddam might have built himself a palace had the Germans not been so into archaeology.

Incidentally, until Babylon is restored back to its proper state, you can enjoy complete solitude here. It’s like if the Red Square were closed off for your own personal enjoyment.

Biblical landscapes with nary a soul all around.

Behind an abandoned watchtower and a barbed wire fence is the place where the Tower of Babel once stood. It’s an island surrounded by a water-filled moat. The length of each side of the moat is 91 meters.

Hillah

A kilometer away from the restored ruins of Babylon is a small modern city that previously used to live off tourism.

It was here that I photographed a wall which turned out to belong to some kind of government building.

As a result, I was detained for three hours while the local KGB proceeded to jerk me around. A crowd of police, military, special forces and other men in uniform kept cheerfully offering me cigarettes, tea, a chair and a fan the entire time. At the peak of it all, I counted 23 people. Throughout these three hours, the soldiers did absolutely nothing. I was their only event for the entire past week.

At last someone managed to get a call through to the local governor, who sent over his press secretary, who deleted all the photos that weren’t to his liking, to the satisfaction of the security officer present. The press secretary left me his business card, according to which he moonlights as an artist and 3ds Max designer.

Najaf

A very busy pilgrimage destination. This is the site of the tomb of Imam Ali, the son-in-law of the prophet Muhammad who is so revered by Shiites (and whom the Sunnites couldn’t care less about).

In order to get into the downtown area of the city, you have to get searched by the police. My hotel turned out to be inside this guarded area, and I had absolutely no ill intentions whatsoever when I proceeded ahead with a suitcase containing a barely touched bottle of exquisite 21-year-old single malt whiskey. The policeman exhibited incredible understanding and goodwill when, instead of causing a scandal and arresting me, he simply asked me to put the bottle in a plastic bag and leave it off to the side, where it will presumably be picked up and then destroyed outside the city by Shiite sappers. The view outside the window of the hotel:

All the police booths look like a policeman’s cap with a tie inside. This type of booth can also be found in other cities in Iraq, but Najaf has the most of them by far.

Payphones.

A post office with rows of PO boxes.

Clothing and fabric salesmen.

Female pilgrims examining gold in a shop window. The degree of Arab women’s love for gold is inversely proportional to the degree of openness of their clothing.

The bright sun is no impediment to using electrical lighting.

When was the last time the reader saw children running around unimpeded or someone in a wheelchair inside an Orthodox Christian church? God forbid, how inappropriate—it’s a place of worship, after all. But there’s no problem with that here. Or in any other mosque: everyone is perfectly okay with the fact that children run around and handicapped people exist.

Ice being chopped.

A mosque attendee drinks free water out of a communal cup.

Trash dumpsters.

A loud crowd runs out through the main gates of the mosque bearing a coffin: a dead man who has visited Najaf will be much better off in the afterlife.

The traditional Iraqi grave looks something like a cross between a toilet and a computer from the mid-1990s.

The fashion these days is to decorate the grave with a portrait of the deceased printed on a color printer. Because a black and white photo is a sign of poverty, while a color one is a sign of prosperity. Let no expense be spared for the dear dead.