Authors: Lawrence Anthony
Babylon's Ark (19 page)
The SF troopers came over to the zoo, told me all about Farah, and asked if as a special favor to them, I would take her on the staff at the zoo. I agreed immediately and they went off and came back with her.
As soon as we introduced ourselves, she burst into tears. I wasn't quite sure what to do, as you tend to forget how traumatized everyone was at the time once you got used to the permanently tense situation. However, she soon regained her composure, and it didn't take a genius to realize she was a quality person and we were extremely lucky to have her with us. Her honesty, integrity, and capacity for hard work were exemplary.
However, what really interested me in that initial meeting was that Farah spoke excellent English. I desperately needed a reliable interpreter. Although my communication with Adel and Husham had been forged through hard times and was honest and good, it was still done in pidgin talk. I also knew that as a post-Saddam Iraqi administration slowly came into being, I would increasingly be dealing with officials who at best knew only a smattering of English.
Farah could be a vital communication link, and she was a qualified vet to boot. She also was prepared to work for free. What more could you ask for?
She said she needed to take care of some things and would be back in about ten days to start. True to her word, she returned, and I was very pleased indeed to have her on the team.
Apart from that, for some weeks I had been toying with the idea of setting up an Iraqi SPCA based at the zoo, and as a committed
and qualified animal carer Farah was the ideal person to kick-start it.
and qualified animal carer Farah was the ideal person to kick-start it.
I introduced her to Adel and Husham. At first they were noncommittal; Arab society is relentlessly male oriented and a woman in the workplace is not encouraged.
To compound matters in their eyes, Farah is about as opposite to a traditional Iraqi woman as you can get. She dresses in jeans and blousesâeven shorts sometimes. She wears makeup; her raven hair has a bleached streak. On a hot day she is not averse to sipping a cool beer. In fact, she is so far removed from a subservient Arab female that Iraqi men think she is foreign, something she encourages by speaking with a fake Jordanian accent.
But perhaps the biggest aspect of her feminine independence is the fact that she openly smokes. This requires a major leap of chutzpah and courage in Arabia, but courage is something Farah is not short of. For while Iraqi men smoke like bonfires, they forbid their women to do so in public. Indeed, an ironic joke among Iraqi women goes like this: A husband comes home early one afternoon to find his wife in bed with another man. “Look at you,” he says. “See what's become of you. If you carry on like this soon you'll be smoking as well.”
Despite her modern style, with her contacts in the veterinarian world, her extensive family connections, her courage, and her cheerful capacity for hard work Farah soon more than proved her worth to the zoo. And eventually led us to Wounded Ass bear and Saddam's ex-vet.
His name was Dr. Nameer and although the Baghdad Zoo staff knew of him, they had had no professional contact due to his “exalted” position. Or former position, now that his boss had fled.
When quizzed by the Americans, Nameer said he had been a specialist police dog trainer until one day when he was abruptly summoned to Saddam's palace. The dictator told Nameer he was now his personal veterinary surgeon and instructed him to dissolve his old practice.
Defying Saddam was not something you did if you wanted to
live. It only was Nameer's professional expertise that kept him on the dictator's payroll, not Ba'athist loyalty.
live. It only was Nameer's professional expertise that kept him on the dictator's payroll, not Ba'athist loyalty.
Or so he claimed. Nameer did have some difficulty explaining why he had been a Ba'ath Party VIP card carrier, but one has to be careful of being too judgmental of what happened in those days of terror.
However, it's impossible not to be judgmental about Nameer's skillsâor perhaps lack thereofâas a veterinarian. When Brendan and Farah went to inspect the bear at Nameer's practice they were shocked rigid. She was only three years old, about five and a half feet tall, and squashed so tightly into a transport cage she could barely move. The cage was roughly six feet by six feet and placed on bricks so bodily wastes could slide though the gaps between the bars, which meant the bear was in effect continuously standing on a suspended iron grid. This had rubbed her paws meat raw and, coupled with foul hygiene, caused the pads to turn septic. It was agony for her just to stand. The floor under the cage was slick with gore and excrement.
A large suppurating abscess on her buttockâher “wounded ass”âwas weeping with rancid puss, and sections of her back, flanks, and abdomen were scraped to bare skin from the tight fit in the cage.
The only treatment she was getting appeared to be a pink-colored antiseptic mist that Nameer periodically sprayed on the sores. That a doctor of medicine with supposed compassion toward fellow creatures had allowed this to happen was, in Brendan's eyes, beyond repugnant.
With the vet was a sinister-looking man with a scimitar nose and bushy beard. His entire being prickled with hostility toward Brendan, no doubt intensified by the fact that he had an attractive Arab woman with him. Brendan decided this was tactically not the time or place to start a debate about ethical care of animals. He and Farah shook hands with the men and smiled, making it obvious they were not there to inspect the place.
However, they couldn't miss the two emaciated pelicans, crippled
badgers, and skeletal dogs in tiny cages piled up against the office walls. Their revulsion toward the vet in front of them tilted over the abyss. But Brendan and Farah kept their cool. They could not let personal animosity pervert their judgment; they had to keep options open.
badgers, and skeletal dogs in tiny cages piled up against the office walls. Their revulsion toward the vet in front of them tilted over the abyss. But Brendan and Farah kept their cool. They could not let personal animosity pervert their judgment; they had to keep options open.
Nameer was initially hesitant to talk to Brendan as he believed he either was American or had contacts with the military. Brendan explained he was South Africanâ“you know, Nelson Mandela country”âand was not involved with the army in any capacity.
The vet loosened up a little and grudgingly acknowledged that the bear was not in the best of health but said he didn't have the money to treat her properly. Brendan suggested they move the animal to the zoo, where she could get more intensive treatment, not just for her injuries but also for possible internal ailments such as screwworm.
This sparked some aggression from Dr. Nameer. He curtly refused, saying she was not his property. She belonged to a man called Abu Sakah, who reputedly was a prominent wild animal black-market dealer. The vet went further, intimating he would be in serious danger from black-market racketeers if the bear was harmedâwhich was a bit rich considering the atrocious conditions she was being kept in.
Nameer then changed the subject, saying he knew a lot of “secret places” in Saddam's palaces and perhaps he could assist the Americans. This was a covert way of intimating he might be of more use than just as a vet.
Brendan and Farah said they would pass that information on and left with a vague promise of meeting him again sometime.
About a week later they returned to Nameer's surgery and, as luck would have it, the black-market hustler Abu Sakah was there as well. A swarthy man with hooded eyes, he had brought in a sick lion cub to be treated. Like Nameer, Abu Sakah was wary of speaking to foreigners, but Brendan again explained that he was South African and had nothing to do with the occupying powers.
Farah used her extensive charm as well to ease the tension.
They started talking about the black market and Abu Sakah pointed to a photo of a tiger on the wall, saying he could get Brendan a prime specimen from Iran. Brendan then switched the topic to the bear and said she was in really bad conditionâwas there any way they could get her to the zoo for treatment?
Abu Sakah mulled over that for a few moments and asked if the zookeepers knew how much money they would have to pay him in compensation.
That was the core of the issue. No one, except us, was interested in the actual welfare of the animal. It was purely a question of money. Brendan suggested Abu Sakah come to see us at the zoo and we could discuss it further.
A couple of days later Nameer arrived at the zoo asking for Brendan. Sumner was there and, as Brendan had already told him of the vet's claims of knowing Saddam's palaces inside out, took Nameer into the office for a chat.
Nameer then asked Sumner if he could pave the way for him to be employed as a police dog trainer, something he claimed to be particularly good at. In return, he would give the military all the information he had on Saddam's palaces. However, although Nameer knew a lot, it was nothing Military Intelligence didn't already know.
The topic then moved back to the bear, with Nameer saying that it would be expensive to buy the animal from the black marketers. Sumner said no problem, but first Nameer must give the bear to the zoo as a sign of good faith. They could talk about prices afterward.
Nameer said he would relay that to Abu Sakah, but if he relinquished the animal unilaterally, his life could be in danger. Sumner repeated that he would discuss prices with the black marketer directly and stressed the military would not arrest anyoneâbut first the bear must be handed over.
Indeed, getting Wounded Ass proper medication had now become the top priority for the rescue team. Like everything we tackled, it was a race against time, as we knew she wouldn't survive for long in those horrific conditions. Nameer's staff was also serially abusing her. Whenever they wanted her to move they just banged
on her cage or poked her with iron rods, forcing her to stand on her rotten paws. There was no doubt her life depended on us getting her to the zoo as quickly as possible.
on her cage or poked her with iron rods, forcing her to stand on her rotten paws. There was no doubt her life depended on us getting her to the zoo as quickly as possible.
Brendan in particular fretted about that constantly. He wanted to storm Nameer's surgery and just take the animal, but we couldn't do that without serious military backup. This was the black market, after all, and we were worried there could be retaliation against our staff. They lived in the community and could be easily traced by thugs seeking revenge.
Eventually Nameer agreed that since he couldn't afford to treat the bear, he would anesthetize her and the zoo team could come and fetch her.
However, as he was walking out he said in Arabic to Dr. Adel: “You inject that damn bear yourself. I'm not doing it.”
In one breath Nameer had told Sumner one thing; in the next he was saying exactly the opposite. However, Sumner and Brendan didn't quibble. If the vet didn't have the professional integrity to anesthetize an animal under his care himself, zoo staff would do it for him.
Like most of our seat-of-the-pants rescue operations, this one also didn't start off on the right foot. I was not present, but I got a graphic description afterward.
On the way to the vet's clinic Adel's beat-up vehicle was rammed by another car in the middle of Baghdad's gridlocked anarchy euphemistically called traffic. Adel looked in his rearview mirror and shrugged. So did the driver behind him, who was actually at fault. In strife-torn Iraq, you just drive away from a crash and count your losses, particularly if you have a bear cage in the back. If you stopped for too long, looters would steal it. If you want, you can have a street fight, but it won't make any difference. There were no traffic police or accident claims in those chaotic times.
Once they arrived at the surgery Adel rapidly prepared the sedative and jabbed the syringe into the bear's butt. They wanted this rescue to be short and sweet.
But after a while it was obvious that wasn't going to happen.
Even with a full dose of tranquilizer, the bear resolutely refused to go down. And as with Last Man Standing, anyone within earshot was lectured by Adel on the legendary toughness of the Iraqi brown bearâ“because they come from the mountains.” It seemed to be almost a source of national pride.
Even with a full dose of tranquilizer, the bear resolutely refused to go down. And as with Last Man Standing, anyone within earshot was lectured by Adel on the legendary toughness of the Iraqi brown bearâ“because they come from the mountains.” It seemed to be almost a source of national pride.
Brendan merely shook his head, resigned to the bizarre fact that every bear that came our way seemed more difficult to sedate than the last.
After half an hour Adel decided to dart the animal again. To facilitate thisâand before Brendan could interveneâNameer's staff forced her into a corner of the cage via their usual method of viciously poking her with metal rods.
Not surprisingly, this infuriated the terrified bear. She screamed and grabbed the rods, twisting them as if they were pieces of spaghetti. For the first time Brendan realized her strength, that this was a really powerful bear they were dealing with. All the other times he had seen her she had just been lying down in her cage, too traumatized to do much.
Adel got the dart in, and again everyone waited. By now about ten people had gathered in the clinic and were making a hell of a noise and banging the cage, stressing the already-panicked creature no end. Brendan managed to quieten them down, and the bear started dropping her head and getting drowsy.
Then some youth who had arrived out of the blue to buy a dog from the vet walked up to the cage and kicked right where the bear's head was. She jumped up in alarm, now wide awake. Brendan stormed over and threatened to thump the guy, but it was too late. The bear was too agitated for the tranquilizer to take effect.
Adel prepared another injection and again inserted it near the wound. That, too, didn't work.
There was nothing further they could do, except write the day off as another bad mission. There was a sense of dread at the zoo. Everyone knew the bear would be dead before the weekend.
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