I am an Iraqi British woman (half-Kurdish, half-Arab). I have lived in Britain
since 1976. I can't go back to Iraq because, like many Iraqis, I was imprisoned
and tortured. When I was released I was haunted by human howls of pain and memories
of the dead.
Once in London, I could hardly believe I was safe in a democratic country.
The day that I first exercised my right to vote was one of the happiest of my
life. On election day 1979, I was up at 5am. I was the first to vote that day.
I voted Labour. The Conservatives won.
The massacre of Halabja in 1988 went unnoticed here. Iraq was then the darling
of the west. Iraq fought the west's war with Iran, to protect their interests
and ensure a free market for oil. But this was Mrs Thatcher's government, which
supported friendly dictators and normalized relations with military regimes.
In 1990, the Iraqi regime occupied Kuwait, and the US and UK decided Saddam
had breached his contract of employment. In January 1991, hell was unleashed against
the Iraqi people. The bombing lasted 43 days, destroyed many civilian targets
and massacred tens of thousands of defenseless conscripts. Iraqis were shocked
and confused: it seemed bizarre to punish them for the crimes of their persecutors.
Confusion turned to numbness when people discovered they were to be subject
to one of the most comprehensive campaigns of economic sanctions in modern history.
On December 6 1995, I sent an A4 padded envelope to my nieces and nephews in Mosul.
It contained one pencil case, three erasers, three sharpeners, six fountain pens,
two markers, one glue-stick and two Biros. It was marked "gift for children".
The envelope was returned, stamped: "Due to international sanctions against Iraq,
we are not able to forward your packet." But that was under John Major.
In 1997, the Labour party was at last elected, and Robin Cook declared the
government's foreign policy to be "ethical". I applauded. But what has the restoration
of hope brought? Continuing sanctions, for a start, which has meant starvation,
death and intellectual stagnation. The bombing of Iraq has never stopped either.
The USAF and RAF have been bombing civilians almost daily since December 1998;
144 civilians were killed in raids in 1999 alone. For the rest, life in Iraq goes
on, as hard as ever.
Here are some paragraphs from two personal letters. The first, from a relative:
"We women spend most of our time doing what our grandmothers used to do: we are
staying home, sieving flour, baking bread, preparing and storing tomato puree
and raising chickens."
The next, from a friend: "Let me share a laugh with you. As Selma, my wife,
was being wheeled out of the operating theatre, the doctor handed me two things:
a long prescription and, what else, do you think? Selma's uterus! I had to go
find the medicine as soon as possible, and also to take the uterus to a private
lab for a biopsy. It was the start of a 20-hour madman's journey around Baghdad."
So how do I now find myself standing by Iraq's dictatorial regime, while Tony
Blair presents himself as the defender of both democracy and the Iraqi people?
For decades, it was the other way around. Iraqis were not only resisting the oppressive
regime, they were sacrificing their lives for change long before the occupation
of Kuwait. They appealed for help from western governments. Their request was:
stop supplying the Ba'ath regime with weapons. Nobody listened.
It's 2001: election time again. I hesitated, but still voted Labour. What choice
did I have? Now the US is pushing for a massive assault on Iraq, and Blair is
one of the few leaders willing to offer troops. Can it be true that the man I
voted for is now preparing to "liberate" Iraq, in the same way he liberated Afghanistan,
by ensuring the death of thousands of civilians? Is it true that he is relying
on the Iraqi National Congress, a group set up in the early 90s with CIA help,
and now funded by the State Department? Does he know that they are loathed by
most Iraqis?
You are "either with us or against us", they say. As an Iraqi that means choosing
between war and the dictator. To be on the side of the oppressed does not mean
we are unaware of the complexity of the situation. To campaign for the lifting
of sanctions, for an end to the paralyzing bombardment and daily threat of war
is to stand by the Iraqi people; it is that policy which will help them to change
the oppressive regime. Any change should be initiated from within Iraq, not imposed
by Bush or Blair.
When I hear Tony Blair speak on Iraq, I am reminded of my old landlady, who
asked me, politely, in the late 1970s, about home. I explained a little about
the government there and how it doesn't give a damn about people. She listened
attentively then, in a nice, gentle way, said: "Next time, don't vote for him
dear."
Haifa Zangana
is a novelist and painter.
© Guardian Newspapers Limited 2002
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