He squinted his eyes, the wrinkles of age showing through heavily. "You might make it a month, but you definitely won't last two." I laughed nervously at the oft-repeated vote of no confidence, and asked for clarification: "You mean I'll get shot, or I'll go crazy?" "Maybe both," he said.
And with that, I ended my day yesterday. I shook the man's hand and checked into an Iraqis-only hotel, where I'll spend $10 / night until I can find something more reasonable. By shortly after sunset, there was nothing left to do, so I went to sleep.
Today, I started about the business of trying to be useful. After some conversation yesterday with like-minded westerners, I figured that it made most sense for me to try to get into a hospital to report and volunteer. Of all the hospitals around, everyone says that the ones in Sadr city are the most desperately in need, and so I figured I would start there.. The only problem being that you can't just waltz into Sadr city, a "renegade" city ruled by "radical cleric" Moqtada Al-Sadr.
And so I formulated a brilliant plan. I went to one of the Imams (Muslim leaders) and asked to meet with him after he gave the Friday prayer sermon at a Sunni mosque. The sermon was incendiary, viciously attacking the Shiite branch of Islam and its followers. Well.. Sadr City consists of 2-3 million Shiite people, so I doubted that walking in with a reference from this particular man was wise. After prayers finished, I tried to quietly withdraw from the mosque. On my way out, I ran into a man who asked if I wanted to speak to the Imam. "You're the Palestinian, right?" "umm. Yes I am."
Not wanting to broach the real reason for our meeting, I instead asked the Imam what he thought of me working with Shiites. Forbidden, he said. So is buying from them, selling to them, walking with them, entering their homes or helping them in any way. rriiight..
With that ingenious plan mothballed, I went to a Shiite place of worship and asked to speak to an Imam (Syed) there. We spoke for some time before he decided we should go to Sadr City to continue. Off we went, and before I knew it, I was in the Imam al-Shahid Sadr offices. Some guy symbolically checked me for a gun (he patted my arm pits), and then we sat and waited.. and waited.. and waited.. Good to know that even this could have the wait-times of a proper bureaucracy.
Sadly, the end of this day is as anti-clamactic as most days in a passport office. It's Friday, so while we were waiting, it came time to close the office "Come back tomorrow. We open at 8am, but you should come at 5:30pm when the line has thinned out."
tarek