Sand Castles

No amount of research could have sufficiently prepared me for my landing in Najaf, Iraq. I was the only westerner on the flight and I settled myself, a bundle of nerves in my window seat, hardly daring to make eye contact, blink or breathe. As the captain announced, what I could only presume was the landing instructions, I had my first glimpse of Iraq out the window. Sand, more sand and sand. Not the kind of sand you see on all the gorgeous beach destination travel sites, a non-descript grey sand that blends right in with the grey buildings. Not skyscraper city buildings, concrete blocks all on top of one another sinking back into the sand, as if they were being devoured into the sandy pits of oblivion. Najaf, I was later informed, was one of the most heavily hit city's in the war. I was rerouted to Najaf instead of the original plan to fly me into Baghdad as the Iraqi government was not allowing anybody except for Iraqi residents to fly into Iraq. Baghdad is the main airport so I would have been turned away immediately. Najaf on the other hand was pretty much a forgotten land left to its own devices. As I stepped off the flight and made my way over the tarmac to the small airport terminal, I was immediately pulled aside and asked for my passport by two men who could not speak a word of English. I was escorted away to a separate building and told to sit. At this point my heart was beating a hundred to one, my mind was jumping from one terrible scenario to another equally terrible scenario. Would I be taken hostage, would I ever see my family again, am I going to die? I could see and hear the two men shouting at other men in the visa room, while passing my passport back and forth between them. Not understanding Arabic, I became more desperate as I could not tell if they were angry words or not. As it is, Arabic is a very loud and guttural sounding language, so once again I decided not to make eye contact and stared intensely at the dirty, broken grey tiles on the floor, silently praying.

Finally, after what seemed like a life time, I was told “Come!”. I followed. Najaf airport felt and looked like a prison. Military personnel with guns stood everywhere. Not very inviting to say the least. We walked and walked. Outside behind a metal gate, stood Heba, the lady sent to assist me and get me safely to the compound. Colin had not been allowed to travel to meet me. In Najaf they do not like foreigners, and Colin being fair haired, would have drawn too much attention. It was decided that it would look more normal with two women travelling together. Heba threw a scarf at me through the gate and instructed me to put it over my head. Her English was good and for the first time since landing I felt I could breathe. One of the armed militaries noticed the interaction between the two of us and walked towards me, pulling at my arm and asking to see my passport. It was at this moment that I realized the two non-English speaking heavies who had met me at the terminal gate were just that, “heavies”. Sent by the company for my protection they kicked into action, pulling me in the opposite direction and guiding me to the Land Cruiser waiting on the side of the road. Once seated on the back seat trying to stop hyper ventilating, I looked to Heba who had climbed in next to me, for reassurance. She instructed me to keep the scarf on as my driver and security sped off in a dust cloud.

The hour and a half journey to the compound was spent looking hesitantly out the window and listening to both driver and security talking in loud Arabic. Absolutely nothing looked or sounded familiar and the lump in my throat constricting my crying began to hurt.

After getting through the security checks at the compound gates, I have never felt so relieved to see a familiar face. After a week of uncertainty in Dubai with my touch and go travel arrangements to get into Iraq, seeing Colin standing outside waiting for me in the arrival area almost caused me to finally release the flood of emotions and sob like a baby. However, I was on Iraqi soil now, this adventure was not for the faint hearted … pull yourself together Caroline, there is plenty more to come!