Gulf War I – Engaging Peace

Iraq’s borders were sealed (Liberate THIS, Part 12)

Posted on March 5, 2012April 29, 2012 by kathiemm

A continuing series by Dr. Dahlia Wasfi

Map of Iraq & Kuwait — Image in public domain

In late 2004 through early 2005, kidnappings of Westerners became prominent news stories. Fearing for my safety amidst ever-escalating anti-American sentiment, my Iraqi family advised me to stay safely at home.

Yet I was undeterred from making another trip and selfishly gave little thought to the potential danger for my family’s “harboring” an American.

That my father is Iraqi and I was on vacation probably wouldn’t mean much to those seeking expensive ransoms to feed their families or wishing to send a message to foreigners to get out of Iraq.

But I was mostly oblivious to the risks. I figured that if I were kidnapped, I could use the few words of Arabic I’d learned growing up (from when my father was angry) in reference to my government. Surely, I thought, with such skills of wit and a photo of my father, I could get myself out of any sticky situation.

By the end of 2005, with no end to the chaos in sight, my family agreed to host me once again, before the situation deteriorated further.

Because the road from Amman to Baghdad was now exceedingly dangerous, my trip was planned only for Basra this time. Hostility still governed relations between Iraq and Kuwait, not only from the era of Gulf War I, but from the decades of territorial dispute dating back to the early twentieth century.

Even with an American passport, I knew my Iraqi background might be sufficient cause for Kuwaiti border officials to make my trip more difficult. But I didn’t see any other option. I bought tickets to fly via London to Kuwait City, which sits about 82 miles (132 kilometers) from Basra, with the Iraq-Kuwait border about halfway in between.

I had a planned layover in London for two days to attend an anti-war conference organized by the UK Stop the War Coalition. My scheduled flight to Kuwait was for the following evening, December 11^th. If Kuwait had been my final destination, I could have made the trip without a problem.

However, four days before the scheduled December 15 elections, Iraq’s borders were sealed for “security” reasons. I had to postpone my trip out of London until the borders were reopened.

With bitter sarcasm, I joked with my family that the new Iraq had so much freedom in it that occupation forces had to close the borders to contain it all.

Shattering my world (Liberate THIS, Part 3)

Posted on September 26, 2011April 29, 2012 by kathiemm

[Note by Kathie Malley-Morrison: Today we are pleased to publish the third in our ongoing series from Dr. Dahlia Wasfi‘s book, Liberate THIS.]

The missiles that trailed across the Arabian night sky that January of 1991 fractured the calm over Iraq, like the war itself shattered my world and my memories to pieces.

Marine fighter planes during Iraq war (Image in public domain)

There was no question that the regime of Saddam Hussein was politically repressive. But now, Iraqis suffered under brutality from within and aerial bombardment from without.

Iraqi families were under attack. My fellow students were celebrating.

Yet, even though I had insight that no one else could have, I said and did nothing for our victims. At the time, assimilation was a higher priority for me than speaking the truth. I reeked of selling out.

More than 100,000 Iraqis perished during the 42 days of Gulf War I, but I was lucky. My blood relatives survived. The worst was yet to come, however, because our aerial assaults had purposely targeted Iraq’s electricity plants, telecommunication centers, and water treatment facilities. These attacks were in direct violation of the Fourth Geneva Convention relative to the protection of civilians in war[1].

In a matter of days, life became desperate. There was no potable water, no electricity, and with economic sanctions in place, there soon would be no means of rebuilding.

Severe economic sanctions had been imposed on Iraq four days after Iraqi troops entered Kuwait, on August 6, 1990. (In sad irony, that date was the forty-five year anniversary of another Western targeting of a civilian population, the atomic bombing of Hiroshima, Japan.) All of Iraq’s exports and imports were banned in order to induce Iraqi withdrawal from Kuwait.[2]

Though withdrawal was completed by the end of the 1991 Gulf War in April, those brutal sanctions remained in place for years. Once stored resources were depleted, Iraqis began to starve. It was a stringent medical, cultural, intellectual, and nutritional embargo that victimized the already-suffering Iraqi people.

I knew the direct correlation between my government’s actions and human suffering. I did nothing.

Dahlia Wasfi

[1] http://www.icrc.org/ihl.nsf/INTRO/380 Convention (IV) relative to the Protection of Civilian Persons in Time of War. Geneva, 12 August 1949.

[2] Herring, Eric. “Between Iraq and a Hard Place: A Critique of the Case for UN Economic Sanctions” in Falk, Richard, Irene Gendzier, and Robert Jay Lifton, eds. Crimes of War: Iraq. Avalon Publishing Group, Inc. New York, NY. 2006. p .223.

“They started bombing” (Liberate THIS, Part 1)

Posted on September 12, 2011April 29, 2012 by kathiemm

[Note from Kathie Malley-Morrison: Today we begin our serialization of excerpts from Dahlia Wasfi’s upcoming book on the invasion and occupation of Iraq from her perspective as the daughter of an American Jewish mother and an Iraqi Muslim father.]

Ordnance load on U.S. Marines plane during Operation "Desert Storm" 1991 (Image in public domain)

“Dahlia, come here,” my father called.

The resignation in his voice told me that something was wrong.

On the east coast of the United States, it was 7 p.m., January 16, 1991. In Iraq—my father’s birthplace—it was 3 a.m. the following day. I was upstairs in my parents’ house in Delaware, during winter break of my sophomore year at Swarthmore College.

When I heard his sad command, I tiptoed to the balcony overlooking the family room. I thought that if I stepped delicately enough, nothing would be disturbed when I reached my father. My efforts were futile. Peering over the railing, I saw him standing by the television.

“They started bombing,” he said. The assault of Gulf War I had begun.

I looked down to my father over the banister with helpless despair. He looked into the television screen with helpless despair. I wanted to reach down into the TV and stop what was happening, maybe even stop time until I could figure out a solution. But I could only stand motionless, frozen at the balcony, trying to process what was happening.

Even as I tell this story years later, my stomach churns as it did that day, for the hopelessness and helplessness of that moment. Fear and sadness instantly overcame me.

My relatives were among the millions of Iraqis who had no say in their government’s actions, but who would pay dearly at the hands of the most powerful military in the world. I couldn’t help my dad. I couldn’t help my family.

Moments later, once the initial shock of the news passed, I found myself nervously humming. I soon realized the song was R.E.M.’s “It’s the End of the World as We Know It.” For me, it was.

Dahlia Wasfi, M.D.