Keep It In The Family

Photo by Reuters

hey detained my husband—he was a Baath Party member. He died from a heart attack, which was caused by his torture. We took his body from the prison in Abu Ghraib. After the funeral ceremony, the police knocked down the door to my house. They were fully armed and took my eldest son from me like barbarians.

I was taken to a big school where the rest of the detainees were blindfolded and handcuffed to the back of a pickup truck. It was early December 2005, and the air chilled my bones. The next morning they took me to a classroom. I realized this by seeing desks and a blackboard on wall. No one spoke to me. They fed me a piece of bread and gave me a glass of water. Eight other women were with me in the same room, each in a corner. Not a single word was exchanged between us. We didn’t know what crime we committed or why we were brought to the school.

There were voices of people outside the room—screaming, crying, and shouting. Males were being tortured. We were kept in the room until 5:30 PM, and then we were once again blindfolded and taken to a place where there were about 35 women. It was a women’s prison where prostitutes used to be jailed.

We were kept there for two days, then we were transferred to the second floor of Abu Ghraib and isolated in small, filthy, two-by-two rooms. There was a shared toilet, which was so dirty you couldn’t tell what color it was. It was covered in excrement. After five days, I was called to meet an American official. He accused me of hiding terrorists inside my house. He asked where they were, and I swore I didn’t know what they were talking about. This did not convince him. He slapped me many times and he threatened to rape me. However, I was not raped. None of us were raped as far as I know.

Our duty during the day was to empty the men’s toilets by taking buckets full of excrement to outdoor areas. Weeks went by. No one told us anything. We weren’t sleeping well due to males screaming from torture at night. Suddenly we were ordered to clean our whole floor in addition to the male floors because UN representatives were coming to visit the building. We were released two days after they came.

I still don’t know why I was detained—neither do the women who were with me. After I was released, a lawyer friend of mine tried her best to present my complaints to Parliament. There was no response. It was a total humiliation.

SANA X AS TOLD TO ARKAN HAMED

e used to live in Samara before the invasion, but we left for Baghdad afterward. My father was an ambassador in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. He was detained on December 5, 2005, and was severely tortured. He had a heart attack and died. He was 73.

My mother and I were detained at a nearby school. I saw her at the facility after I arrived, but she was moved after two days. I was kept there for two weeks. I was beaten day and night. There was absolutely no reason given for my arrest, or for anyone else’s. That’s part of the game for them.

They were looking for someone whom I didn’t know. They threatened to rape my mother right before my eyes if I didn’t tell them where he was hiding. “But I don’t know him,” I said. If I had known him, I would have told.

After this, I was sent to Abu Ghraib. I was handed to American prison guards. They had clippers and threatened to cut off my pinkie fingers and my ears. They also used an electric prod on my feet, knees, and neck. I always cried out, because those who didn’t respond to the pain would get it on their genitals.

The “party” started at 2 AM on the second day. “Party” was their word. Several prisoners were gathered in the hall. We were handcuffed and blindfolded, then kicked, slapped, and cursed. If we didn’t respond to a kick, we would get another kick. Their strength increased until they got a cry.

The violence continued every three days, always at night. I was interrogated every morning, sometimes into the afternoon. When UN representatives arrived at the prison, all the detainees were gathered in a big yard. On this day, I saw the assistant manager of the prison for the first time. He was an elegant American man with a white mustache. He threatened us quietly, in a kind voice, as though it was no threat at all. He said that if we were asked about conditions at Abu Ghraib, we were not to complain.

It’s needless to say that the food was not sufficient and the toilets were like nothing I have seen before. And as you know, there were speakers inside the cells that projected very loud voices and noises, especially at night. That was awful. It devastates you in the weakest hour, after getting only a few minutes of sleep.

After six months of detention, I was changed from a very calm, responsible lawyer into a wrecked man with no desires, no wishes, no interests, no work, no beliefs, and no dignity. I used to adore my country but not anymore. Ethics? Standards? They are all smashed, thanks to the Americans. They have wrecked everything lovely in my life. They must know that millions of Iraqis want revenge. So let them continue—Iraqis won’t forget the harm done to them.

SALEH X AS TOLD TO ARKAN HAMED