Phobia-Iraq-Love Trilogy Tale

25. Behind the Moustache - On the Road to Baghdad - Iraq

The GMC darted through one of the arches and past a statue of vague resemblance to the Iraqi leader; arm outstretched in a welcoming pose. My driver became surprisingly more serious. "And don't say anything - let me do all the talking," he concluded sternly as we pulled into a small parking lot in front of some dusty buildings.

We entered one of the buildings and found three men dressed in tatty green uniforms lounging against a desk. Upon our entrance the men returned to their efficient duty and many forms appeared amidst a babble of Arabic conversation. As I filled in the forms I noticed that just past the desk was a large room full of comfortable low chairs neatly and symmetrically arranged upon large rugs. Upon three of the walls were pictures of Saddam Hussein in various uniforms and dress looking for the entire world like a lovable caring dictator. The fourth wall near the entrance was entirely covered from floor to ceiling with a mural portrait of a young looking Saddam in traditional Arab dress which totally dominated the room. I could only imagine that the handful of waiting occupants of the room were being completely overwhelmed and intimidated by this dramatic imposition. VIP Room was painted on a small sign above the entrance.

That was where I assumed I would also have to wait but to my surprise I found myself being ushered back outside and into the GMC with the driver and one of the custom officials and driven to another office. At the official's request I was led into a small room where a fat sweaty man, also in green uniform, sat behind a small untidy desk and motioned me to the seat directly in front of him. I turned to find support from my river but was alarmed to see that he was being detained outside by the official who had quickly left the room.

The man stared straight at me for some moments without speaking. I noticed an old metal bed against the wall to my right. It had torn sheets and blankets thrown over it. I had heard that on some occasions custom officials will seek an aids test which has to be strongly opposed. I really wanted to pee.

Finally the man spoke in Arabic and made a gesture towards the small travel bag I was clutching. I interpreted this as some form of inspection so I placed the bag on the table and the man rose a little from his chair to peer inside. At that moment my body went to jelly and my bowels to souffl\u00e9. I suddenly remembered the money belt which was at the bottom of the bag. Iraq was a cash society without the convenience of ATM's, credit cards or a reliable banking sector so my only option was to bring enough cash in to last the three months until my next leave break. With accommodation, food, refreshments and incidentals to consider I over compensated with the sum of $US5,000. If discovered, most if not all, would be confiscated and it was probable that I would spend time in a prison cell as it was forbidden to cross the border with large sums of money. Lunging at the bag would arouse suspicion so I could do nothing but hold my breath and bladder. My saving grace turned out to be the books, papers and other items I had on top of the money belt as once he flicked them back and forwards a few times he became content with what he saw and sat back down heavily in his chair.

(For future border crossings I purchased a thin belt with a long zipper which I threaded through my jeans. I never had any more problems transferring money.)

"A tip for my friend," he attempted in broken English nodding at a tall thin man who had been standing motionless behind him. Anticipating a request of this nature I removed a $US5 note I had previously placed in my back pocket for such occasions and plonked it on the table. Having achieved their goals I was then allowed to leave the office and join my driver outside.

We returned to the main customs office to collect our passports considerably more subdued. Once the car was parked a man appeared dressed in civilian clothes and ushered all bags out of the car and onto a bench where they were opened and inspected thoroughly. Then he began a search of the vehicle which included looking under the bonnet. The driver followed him nervously.