The laptop just arrived. It was supposed to get here at 2pm, so I started waiting downstairs at 1:30pm. I waited until 5, then asked one of the Iraqi fixers to call and see what was up. They were just about to leave now. Right on their way. I waited two more hours when the trip should have taken half that. Then, another call. "Listen. We're in Baghdad, but we can't make it to exactly where you are. Can you come meet us?" I emphatically insisted they come to the hotel, stating a whole host of bullshit reasons. Really, there was only one reason I wouldn't go: I was scared they would kidnap me or maybe just kill me. Another hour passed, and the sun was setting.
As it set, I saw Ahmad getting out of a car with my laptop. He spoke a few words to the driver, who grabbed an AK47 and looked it over. Ahmad then approached me, his walk impish and the laptop in plain view. He was clearly uncomfortable and suspicious. I could tell he was as frightened as I. I walked out to meet him and hugged him violently. We exchanged greetings, and he gave me the laptop. I noticed that his hand was bandaged and asked what that was about. "You know how it is." His gaze lowered.
He wouldn't even approach the hotel. He was so afraid of me and it that as soon as I was comfortable that the laptop was OK, he virtually ran away. He had every reason to be more scared of me than I was of him. If I were a collaborator, it wouldn't matter that he wasn't a fighter: Just being a Fallujah resident would have been enough.
tarek