[h/t to Juan Cole]
>From a blog entry by ace Iraq McClatchy reporter Hannah Allam:
http://washingtonbureau.typepad.com/cairo/2008/04/sadr-city-griev.html
<key excerpt>
Believe what you will about Chalabi being a has-been (or
worse); precious few other Iraqi politicians can sail into Sadr City
with foreigners in tow and receive ironclad guarantees of safety from
the feared Mahdi Army. The militiamen greeted him with embraces, just a
day after Sadr issued a statement that discouraged the targeting of
Iraqis unless they have helped the occupation.
You might wonder, as I do, how Chalabi, the onetime Pentagon darling
who fell out of American graces, the man who ushered U.S. forces into
Iraq, the secular intellectual with dubious associates around the
globe, is able to preserve such close ties to the Shiite Islamist,
anti-American Sadr movement. We might never know the full story.
Critics will say that Chalabi's trip to Sadr City today amounted to
grandstanding; supporters will counter that it's about time an Iraqi
official, any Iraqi official, dropped in to see firsthand the suffering
of Sadr City's embattled residents. Whatever the case, I was just
grateful to tag along and finally be able to soak up the dizzying
sights of Sadr's sprawling Baghdad stronghold without the usual
wrangling with local militia commanders or U.S. military embed
coordinators.
<excerpt from beginning>
But this time, the slain son was no ordinary militiaman. He was one of
the closest aides and friends of the rebel cleric Muqtada al Sadr.
Riyadh al Nouri, head of Sadr's office in Najaf, was gunned down by
unknown assailants as he made his way home from midday prayers Friday.
No group has claimed responsibility for the killing, a brazen strike at
Sadr's inner circle, though leaders of the movement blame the U.S.
military occupation for the violent landscape where bullets too often
settle political disputes.
I ended up sitting on the floor with Nouri's mother and her friends
because of Ahmad Chalabi, who had invited two Western reporters and an
Iraqi television crew to accompany him as he paid his respects at the
funeral in Sadr City. (Another funeral was going on down in Najaf,
where Nouri was killed.) When Chalabi and the cameras disappeared into
the men's tent, the rest of us -- a female American reporter for
another U.S. newspaper, my Iraqi colleague Sahar and me -- decided to
visit the women's area.
This was the first time in nearly two years that I've walked around in
Sadr City, and the first time I've ever visited without our company's
own drivers to watch our backs. A young plainclothes guard led us
through garbage-strewn alleyways to the home where the women had
gathered in solidarity with Nouri's mother.
During the pins-and-needles walk to the home, I scanned rooftops for
snipers and saw none. My eyes locked with those of a menacing-looking
young militiaman with a Sadr badge pinned to his shirt. He offered a
half-smile and said, "Welcome" in Arabic. Naked, filthy children peeked
out of their squalid homes. Little boys played soccer in the dirt. A
father held his daughter's tiny hand as they crossed the street and
stopped at an ice-cream stand. Life was going on as usual in Sadr City,
a place that manages to be simultaneously dismal and vibrant.
But with all the U.S. air strikes and clashes here in the past couple
of weeks, Sahar and I were keenly aware of the myriad dangers that
still lurk in the warrens of Sadr City. Walking alone in this volatile
territory left me feeling more exposed than perhaps at any time during
my five years of covering Iraq. Sahar whispered for us not to say a
word in English, but of course it was obvious we were outsiders. The
baby-faced guard who led us to the home said that we need not worry,
and it turned out that he was right.
<coda>
As is customary, we'd taken off our shoes at the door and had to fish
them from a jumble of women's sandals on our way out. As we exited,
Sahar noticed an Iraqi man staring at our American colleague, who had
some stray reddish-blond hair sticking out from under her headscarf.
Sahar heard him sputter, "An American, one with blue eyes, has the
nerve to show up here?" It was time to go.
We rejoined Chalabi's convoy without incident and thanked our sweet
young guard for his protection. We made a quick stop at a food
warehouse where Chalabi and the deputy trade minister inquired about
rations shipments, electricity and other sorely lacking basic services.
Sahar and I hung back to chat with a bystander, 21-year-old Ali
Mohamed.
We asked Ali what Sadr City residents wanted from the Iraqi government.
"Water, electricity, rations," came the quick reply. "Where is the
future? From Saddam's time to now, what future do we have?'
We asked Ali what the residents sought from Sadr himself.
"We want him to get rid of the occupation," Ali said. He added that he
hasn't yet fought alongside the Mahdi Army, but wouldn't hesitate to
take up arms if Sadr issued the call.
"Of course I would go," Ali said. "Who is defending Iraq except him?"
During the drive back to Chalabi's compound I busied myself with taking
photos from the tinted windows of our armored SUV. At one point, Sahar
nudged me.
"I don't want to frighten you," she said, "but I've counted seven IEDs
on this road so far. Look, you can even see the wires coming out."
<end excerpt>
http://washingtonbureau.typepad.com/cairo/2008/04/sadr-city-griev.html
Michael