The Detouring Doctor

“Taxi meesta? Taxi meesta” is the chant that arose as I passed through Cairo airport. A wry smile crossed my face as I have flash backs to 40 years ago. Welcome back and nothing has really changed. Constant hassle and attempted extortion is still a way of life in Egypt. Cutting a swathe through the touts I negotiate a taxi to the pyramids. Starting price 1000 pounds, finall price 300 pounds and on arrival at Giza a further attempt, unsuccessful, by the driver to extract more money.

Strangely smoggy skies over Cairo have me wondering about the plan to break up my flight for a quick half day trip to the pyramids. I arrive at 8 am and walk up to the Giza plateau and literally have the place to myself. Not at all what I remember and it is both evocative and atmospheric. The clouds finally burn off and the kiss of morning sun lights up the yellow sandstone blocks of the pyramids and sphinx. I immerse myself in the peaceful beauty and wonder if post Covid had the Egyptian tourist industry taken that much of a beating?

When I was last here there was no ticket office and one could just drive up to the pyramids. Similarly the barrier to exclude tourists from the base of the sphinx is new.

At 9am I finally reach and turn around the Cheops pyramid to see the tourist buses disgorging passengers and almost instantly the place has become a veritable “zoo”. Clearly the tourist business is still alive and well. Nonetheless I manage to avoid the crowds successfully and collect some nice images in the process.

Bright sunshine and a cloudless day greets us for our final day as a group. Of the fellow travellers who have been with us for the full two weeks I will miss many of them, not to mention our vivacious guide Paris who has a knack for turning Arab mens’ heads. The road back to Erbil is multilaned pristine freeway and we cover a long distance quickly. There is a stop at Lake Dukan and at Koya to see the rundown decaying but interesting 12^th century caravanserai along the silk road.

Finally we are at Erbil and we have lunch at one of the many cafes in the large and pretty city square. High on the hill above is the Erbil citadel. Built 6000 years ago it is the oldest continually inhabited sites in the world.

The rain tumbles down from leaden skies as we arrive at the Red museum in Sulymani . It’s as if the heavens are reflecting the deep sorrows that we are about to experience here. Historically the poor Kurds have been the whipping boys of an assortment of countries but none more so than in Iraq, more recently with ISIS but then in the 1980s under the evil Saddam Hussein Baathist regime.

In Sulymani in 1983 Saddam’s reign of terror hit Sulymani. 182,000 people were killed, many buried alive, others imprisoned and tortured before their grisly demise. In total of 5000 villages 4500 were razed to the ground. The destruction was of epic proportions. As we walk into the entrance of the former jail turned museum the long corridor is illuminated with 4,500 little fairy lights in the ceiling one for each destroyed village. The walls are lined with 182,000 mirrored tiles one for each death. It is poignant and evocative.

We spend 2 hours here, room after room of photos and exhibits. We visit prison cells, torture chambers set up with recreations of the torture. Our pretty young Kurdish guide, Haana, relates how her further was strung oup hanging from a beam while electrodes were placed on his penist to deliver electric shocks. When he eventually, somehow escaped he had no fingernails nor toenails removed as part of the torture. A short video clip showing the violent beating of prisoners is a bridge too far for me and I walk out with tears in my eyes.

The rain continues and we visit another genocide site, Halabja. In 1988 Saddam struck again. Early in the morning of March 16 Iraqi airforce jets flew over this small townnear to the Iranian border. Apart from his hated Kurds there were stories of Iranian military infiltrating the area, double the incentive for attack. At first they pounded the town with conventional weapons to break windows and doors and force residents to hide in cellars. Then they released mustard gas, which being heavier than air sinks to the ground and any underground chambers right where their intended targets were hiding.Some 7000 people are believed to have died on the day another another 12000 for the after effects of the poisoning. There is a moving memorial there with a small museum and a commerative wall where the victims are listed.

Filled with enough stories of the depths of depravity that men can sink to the afternoon concluded with a visit to the little tourist town of Byara which is right up against the border with Iran. The border here is quite porous as Kurds live on either side and have free movement. We take the steep walking track up the hill and a small acqueduct marks the border. There is no fence nor officials on either side and we take the obligatory border photos with one foot in each country.

Just before sunset we make it to the Ahmad Awa waterfall and enjoy a coffee at the base. A perfect end to a confronting day.

No,not the musical it’s the engineer, stupid! Archibald Hamilton was a New Zealand engineer who was commissioned to build a road linking Kurdistan to Iran as a trade route. The road was to go along rugged mountains, gorges and over rivers in the time between 1928 and 1932. Everyone said that it could not be done but with dynamite, local help and unique cantilevered bridges he made it happen. While little of the original road remains intact, the modern day road is named the Hamilton Road in his honour.

It is a short drive to the Bekhal waterfalls. A pleasant small series of cascades the whole area is dominated by kitsch, gaudy tourist infrastructure that does not do the place justice. There are cafes and souvenir shops all around fortunately all closed. Similarly at the next stop the Gali Ali Beg waterfall which is more substantial but the surrounds were flooded and the cute lttle ducks paddling around were better than the potential hordes of tourists to descend upon the place. Eventually our vertiginous drive through the the deepest gorge in the Middle East, the Rawandaz gorge broadens out into the flat plains around the city of Sulymani, Kurdistan’s second biggest and our destination for the night.

The is a distinct chill in the air and heavy cloud cover that dogged us all day. There are mountains all around and this is definitely the antithesis of what I expect for Iraq. As the road winds up the mountains we stop briefly to see yet another Saddam palace, the walls around the perimeter painted with murals paying homage to the Peshmerga, the Kurdish military.

Our destination is Amediya also known as the city in the sky. Legend has it that the 3 wise men saw the star and set out from here to Bethlehem. It is built on a high mesa on the Great Zab river valley. It dates back 3000 years and is perfectly situated with just one entrance, the 300BC Bab Zabar gate. With natural spring water and ample food it perfectly withstood any seiges and was never taken. Sadly the poor weather amd reconstruction work means fairly dull photos.

After lunch we visit the Shanidar Cave. From 1955 – 1960 American archeologist Ralph Solicki discovered and excavated 7 Neanderthal skeltons dating back some 45,000 years. Remains of flowers with the bones suggest burial ceremonies and that the Neanderthal probably had social structures and customs better than what have thought in the past. Sadly, as so often happened in the past these remains are not here and are at the Smithsonian in Washington.

Overnight we are at at Rawanduz in Barzani country and our local guide tells us of yet another episode of crimes against humanity. In 1983 Saddam ordered his army to massacre the Barzani people. 8000 males over the age of 10 were killed by being buried alive. The gnocide brings me to tears. This is asociety where every family has been touched by violent death, rape, imprisonment or torture. Our 2 local guides relate imprisonment and torture and killings in their families also. It brings me to tears listening to it. I wonder who are the real savages, homo neanderthalis or homo sapiens sapiens.

I was completely ignorant of the fact that Kurdistan in the far north east of Iraq is an autonomous region ruled by its own parliament and own police force, laws and military. This has been a much abused area and the people have endured heart rending trauma. Firstly Saddam gassed them in the early 1980s and more recently these guys have been at the frontline in the war against ISIS. Looking at the map I see Mosul, Kirkuk and Tikrit all frontline war zones, all decimated by fighting all no go zones for tourists for fear of reprisals by ISIS sleeper cells believed to be there.

By contrast this is a beautiful area, greener than southern Iraq and with hills and mountains. The temerature is mild,the traffic is more orderly and gone are the roadside piles of rubbish that blight southern Iraq. The people are friendly, there is a tolerance of a variety of religions here.

We head off this morning on the 6 lane highway to Mosul. The road is beautiful and checkpoints are fewer and more of a formality. Some 50 km out we veer off northwards and climb out into the hills up a steep narrow hairpin bend road to St Matthew’s monastery. Built in the 3^rd century AD and restored over the years since this is a pretty Syrian orthodox complex. Peaceful, the vibe here is distinctly southern European. The service that was going at the time was reminiscent of my childhood Catholic experiences.

After lunch it was off to Lalish, the holiest site for the Yazidi people. These gentle people are partly a religion but more a tight knit ethnic grouping. Their faith does not resemble any of our mainstream religions. It is monotheistic but borrows elements of Christianity and Islam. You can only be a Yezidi if both your mother and father are Yezidi. Converts from the outside cannot be accepted. The Yezidis suffered most from the depravity of ISIS. Men were killed if they refused to convert to Islam and women were raped. Any offspring from that violence by definition could not be accepted into the Yezidi community.

Our arrival at Lalish coincides with a religious festival and the place is hopping. People everywhere, dancing, acts of devotion, baptisms. Everyone is dressed to the nines and the atmosphere is festive. Photography, including of the people is just fine and I and a few thers in our group join in the dancing.This was a special day in a really special place.

Basra sits on the main highway to Kuwait, south of Baghdad. It was common news in the media as the staging force for Saddam’s invasion of Kuwait in 1990 and then as a hard fought city in the US led coalition in 1991 to liberate Kuwait. It sits near to the confluence of the Tigris and the Euphrates and is effectively Iraq’s port city.

On the way we visit the marsh Arabs who live in the wetlands between the Tigris and the Euphrates. These people have eked out an existence in these wetlands for centuries. After the defeat of Saddam in 1991 after the gulf war, it was thought that many of the regimes opponents had sought refuge there. Taking rvenge Saddam built a series of dikes to divery water away and dry up the marshes. In a final act of bastardry he set fire to the marshes. It was only after Saddam’s defeat in 2003 that water flow was restored to the marshes and the community is thriving again.

Our final stop was Basra city itself which is a new and modern city. A cruise through the harbour area paints a different picture with half submerged ships in the middle of the harbour and rotting hulks everywhere, a veritable ship’s graveyard.

A short walk through Old Basra has a few old buildings being restored by UNESCO but the rubbish and sulphurous sewer smell make this a less than pleasant experience.

Yet another long day’s driving this time the checkpoints were kinder to us.Our overnight destination is Najaff again another pilgrimage site.On the way we visit the ancient Sumerian capitol of Ur. We struck gold here as the spritely elderly guide speaks excellent English and his knowledge really brings the place alive. Founded in 3800 BC it was finally dissolved in 500 AD. The site includes royal tombs and excavations of palaces but the best preserved is the ziggurat. This one is built in the dome and minaret dazzling at night under lights. The inside sparkles with a forest of chandeliers style of a stepped pyrimid and once had a temple at the summit. The heat is ennervating and it is definitely over 40C as we climb the stairs up to the top of the ziggurat for a view of the surrounding countryside.

It is after dark when we arrive at Najaf and visit the mosque there. This is smaller but even more beautiful than the Karbala complex. It is the burial place of Mohammed’s son in law and a muslim pilgrimage site second only to Mecca and Medina. The outside of the mosque featues the gold leaf dome and minaret dazzling at night under lights. The inside sparkles with a forest of chandeliers beneath a roof of beatiful coloured glass.

Thirty minutes into our checkpoint wait and our Iraqi guide comes back ashen faced. It’s not looking good. He mutters something about motherfuckers and heads back out to negotiate further with the militia. Ten minutes later he is back with our passports with the news that we have to turn back. My heart sinks, after 2 hours drive we are just at the threshold of entering Karbala and we are turned back. Disbelief is suspended when our bus makes a U turn and we drive back. He promises us that we will go to other mosques instead but to me that is like landing in Rome and being turned away from the Vatican with the promise that we can see some other churches instead!

Karbala is a muslim pilgrimage site especially for the Shiites. In the year 680 AD a dispute arose between descendants of the prophet Mohammed. War ensued at Karbala and Hossein Ali was killed. His followers venerate him as a martyr and the Shiite sect was born.

Ten minutes down the road the guide gets a call. Judging by his face he does not know the number and for a fleeting second I hope against hope that maybe we have been granted a reprieve. A couple of Iraqi sentences later he hangs up and announces that we have been granted permission. My hope is fulfilled and we let out a cheer.

The walk into the mosque is along roads lined with stalls selling anything from food to clothes and religious trinkets. Interestingly many sick pilgrims are brought in wheelchairs and on wooden trolleys. These are scenes reminiscent of my time in Lourdes. We reach the mosque and are frisked by security before entering. A service is in full flight with chanting and prayer and we walk around the congregation taking photos. This is a massive high ceilinged space coloured dark green but with intricate mirrors, murals and mosaics along the walls and the ceiling dripping with multiple chandeliers. The chanting by the imam produces a serene vibe as does the rhythmic movements of the people. Stunning! The devotion of the congregation is most on show with the inner sanctum which has the tomb of Hussain Ali and people drape themselves on the bars around it to get a touch of the martyr.

Next stop Babylon known in antiquity for having one of the 7 wonders, the hanging gardens. Sadly this place has been hijacked by he late dictator Saddam Hussein. This site was the capitol of the massive empire of Babylon between the 19^th century and the 16^th century BC. Some foundations of the original are still there but in a poor state and unreconstructed. All around is a garish poor quality reconstruction done by our old friend Saddam who wanted to have the site compare himself with one of the great empires of antiquity. One of the locals points to a slope behind a few date palms as the site for the Hanging Gardens but in fact noone knows where the gardens really were. High on the next hill is the massive, lavish palace of Saddam Hussein which has been looted and severely damaged. It is a graffiti ridden epitaph to one of histories nastiest dictators.

Finally I am in seventh heaven! I get blown away by antiquities and that is what the fertile valley betwen the Tigris and the Eurphrates is all about. This was a cradle of civilisation. Fossil remains show prehistoric remains that confirm that this was one of the centres where man evolved from apes.

Subsequent empires here include the Sumerians, Babylonian and Assyrian empires. These early rulers built massive cities developed the first written language (cuneiform) and the first code of laws governing socities and her I am revelling in it all at the Iraq museum. Tragically in between the fall of Saddam Hussein in 2003 and the US forces taking full control some 15,000 pieces were looted most have never been recovered. Nonetheless this is an impressive collection af ancient treasures.

The newly sealed highway out of Baghdad offers a good run up to Samarra. The sky has a smoggy haze look probably dust storms and the thermometer tops 39C. The countryside is dead flat and scrubby fields are lined with date palm. Intermittent villages punctuate the desolation and are introduced with military gun turrets. The shanty towns have a few crumbling houses and mountains of litter and dead, rotting vehicles. Truly post apocalyptic.Every 20 minutes or so has us stopping for a security check which ranges from efficient through to outrageously long and tedious. Passports are checked and the driver and guides interrogated.

Samarra our destination this afternoon was the capitol of the Abbasid empire and the world’s biggest mosque at that time was built there. Today the walls of the mosque remain along with the 52 metre high minaret now known as the Ziggurat of Samarra. It is punishingly hot but we all climb around the corkscrew stairs without rails around the perimeter.