Preacherman
February 28, 2003, 11:17 PM
From the London Daily Telegraph (http://www.portal.telegraph.co.uk/news/main.jhtml;$sessionid$LC3M0JFDWOL1PQFIQMFSFFOAVCBQ0IV0?xml=/news/2003/02/28/wirq228.xml):
We will gas you when US bombs fall, Kurds told
(Filed: 28/02/2003)
If war comes to Iraq, the Kurds of Kifri will be right in the line of fire. Iraqi officials have threatened that the moment the first American bomb lands, they will reply with a chemical assault on the town.
But in the entire place, there is not a single gas mask to be had, and no detection posts, decontamination centres or safe houses.
In lieu of proper protection, the residents of Kifri have been doing what they can to prepare. The women have baked high-energy biscuits that will keep fresh for weeks. The men scour the town's bazaar for extra blankets and plastic sheeting.
At night families listen intently to the news on ageing radio sets.
"It's going to be hard on the children," said Ali Muhammad Nasir, 30, who lives with his wife, Runak, and two little ones. "But we know only too well what Saddam's capable of."
Kifri is barely two hours' drive from Baghdad and at the southern tip of Kurdish-controlled northern Iraq. For years, the town has lived under the shadow of Saddam Hussein's forces. From its southern edge, a big Iraqi military base dominates the skyline. On the left, Baghdad's tanks are dug in and, to the right, is a missile silo.
Shells crash into the surrounding fields regularly and at night machineguns open fire without warning.
The town's misery has been dragged out for more than a decade. In 1991, its residents were forced to flee for the mountains when Iraqi troops rolled into town. Five years later, the Iraqis returned and they fled again. Mr and Mrs Nasir slept rough for 10 days.
In one vicious attack since then, the Iraqis used phosphor bombs that left victims horribly burnt.
"What can we do?" asked Mr Nasir, who earns a living as a petrol trader. "I would gladly give a month's salary for a gas mask, but there are none. The mountains are our only chance."
As he spoke, his three-year-old daughter Randa sat quietly at his feet. His wife said: "For her, it will be the first time. She is terrified."
In Kifri, the signs of war are everywhere. At the town's mosque, Bakar Abas was wearing cheap sunglasses to hide his ravaged eyes. He was blinded by an Iraqi rocket in 1993 when he was aged 11.
"Now I spend my days praying and studying the Koran," he said. In the main cemetery, the corpses of Kurdish peshmerga guerrilla fighters lie in neat rows. As we walked between the headstones, a tank shell landed just outside the town. At the last Kurdish checkpoint the officers looked nervous.
"The Iraqis have said they will overrun us when the fighting starts," said one. "We are brave, but we can't do much against tanks and missiles."
In the bazaar, demand for plastic sheeting, torches, ropes and blankets has soared. Asie Hamid Ali, 32, who runs a stall, said: "Everybody except the peshmerga is preparing to flee for the hills."
For some, escape is not even an option. All they can do is stay in their houses and hope for the best.
Wafa Kamal, 22, a housewife, wearing a bright pink dress, said: "In my house there are six children and four adults. But my uncle is sick with cancer and cannot walk. So we'll have to stay."
"I've bought some bread and sugar. What else can I do? Most of all, it's the gas that scares me. But nobody's told us what to do if it comes. All we can do is pray."
We will gas you when US bombs fall, Kurds told
(Filed: 28/02/2003)
If war comes to Iraq, the Kurds of Kifri will be right in the line of fire. Iraqi officials have threatened that the moment the first American bomb lands, they will reply with a chemical assault on the town.
But in the entire place, there is not a single gas mask to be had, and no detection posts, decontamination centres or safe houses.
In lieu of proper protection, the residents of Kifri have been doing what they can to prepare. The women have baked high-energy biscuits that will keep fresh for weeks. The men scour the town's bazaar for extra blankets and plastic sheeting.
At night families listen intently to the news on ageing radio sets.
"It's going to be hard on the children," said Ali Muhammad Nasir, 30, who lives with his wife, Runak, and two little ones. "But we know only too well what Saddam's capable of."
Kifri is barely two hours' drive from Baghdad and at the southern tip of Kurdish-controlled northern Iraq. For years, the town has lived under the shadow of Saddam Hussein's forces. From its southern edge, a big Iraqi military base dominates the skyline. On the left, Baghdad's tanks are dug in and, to the right, is a missile silo.
Shells crash into the surrounding fields regularly and at night machineguns open fire without warning.
The town's misery has been dragged out for more than a decade. In 1991, its residents were forced to flee for the mountains when Iraqi troops rolled into town. Five years later, the Iraqis returned and they fled again. Mr and Mrs Nasir slept rough for 10 days.
In one vicious attack since then, the Iraqis used phosphor bombs that left victims horribly burnt.
"What can we do?" asked Mr Nasir, who earns a living as a petrol trader. "I would gladly give a month's salary for a gas mask, but there are none. The mountains are our only chance."
As he spoke, his three-year-old daughter Randa sat quietly at his feet. His wife said: "For her, it will be the first time. She is terrified."
In Kifri, the signs of war are everywhere. At the town's mosque, Bakar Abas was wearing cheap sunglasses to hide his ravaged eyes. He was blinded by an Iraqi rocket in 1993 when he was aged 11.
"Now I spend my days praying and studying the Koran," he said. In the main cemetery, the corpses of Kurdish peshmerga guerrilla fighters lie in neat rows. As we walked between the headstones, a tank shell landed just outside the town. At the last Kurdish checkpoint the officers looked nervous.
"The Iraqis have said they will overrun us when the fighting starts," said one. "We are brave, but we can't do much against tanks and missiles."
In the bazaar, demand for plastic sheeting, torches, ropes and blankets has soared. Asie Hamid Ali, 32, who runs a stall, said: "Everybody except the peshmerga is preparing to flee for the hills."
For some, escape is not even an option. All they can do is stay in their houses and hope for the best.
Wafa Kamal, 22, a housewife, wearing a bright pink dress, said: "In my house there are six children and four adults. But my uncle is sick with cancer and cannot walk. So we'll have to stay."
"I've bought some bread and sugar. What else can I do? Most of all, it's the gas that scares me. But nobody's told us what to do if it comes. All we can do is pray."