Posted on 12/02/2003 12:11:11 PM PST by presidio9
BAGHDAD, Iraq — This war-torn city has one oasis where no one fears car bombs or kidnappers, where the traffic moves freely and the air feels clean.
The place is the River Tigris. On its languid waters boatmen ply their trade as they have for thousands of years, ferrying customers from bank to bank. A ride costs 100 Iraqi dinars — five cents. It is the cheapest, maybe the only, way to relax in Baghdad.
No one gets rich on the river, the pilots say. But the work is steady, and not too hard. Many of the boatmen have run their boats for decades, through wars and sanctions. As long as the river flows, they like to say, they will have work.
"The two parts of the city are divided," said Haithem Yaqoob, a ferryman since 1993. "One tries to get to the other bank."
Of course, even the Tigris is not immune to Iraq's troubles. Before the war, lovers rode the river at night. Now they have disappeared, afraid of the violence that grips this city after dark. Dams in Turkey have stunted the river's flow, and clumps of reeds sprout along its banks, providing a breeding ground for insects. Baghdad's sanitation system, never perfect, has collapsed, flooding the river with the city's waste.
But those hard facts melt away after a few minutes on the river, with blue sky above and green water below.
In the center of Baghdad, where Mr. Yaqoob and the other boatmen spend their time, catching a ride is as simple as walking to the edge of the river and waving to one of the boats skittering across the water. The ferries come in two sizes, narrow-bodied boats that seat about six and are basically skiffs with outboard engines, and Baghdad's version of cruise ships, wide-bodied boats that can hold a dozen or more passengers.
Either way, finding a seat is no problem. With Baghdad's economy stuttering, the boatmen, like most workers here, are eager for business. Mr. Yaqoob waves his passengers aboard, asks their destination, and takes off.
Having taken the trip thousands of times, Mr. Yaqoob glides away from the bank in no great hurry. After a few moments, the chaos of Baghdad fades, replaced by the pleasant low hum of the outboard's engine. Even in mid-November, the city is warm, with temperatures often rising above 80 degrees at midday. But an easy breeze blows up the river, and the water is cool and inviting, though anyone who succumbed to the urge to swim in its parasite-laced waters would probably later regret doing so.
Thanks to the Turkish dams, the Tigris seems as flat as a lake, which is fortunate. Even minor ripples from other ferries rattle Mr. Yaqoob's narrow boat, and life jackets are not standard equipment on his boat, or any other. But with other boats nearby in case something goes wrong, the thought of capsizing does not worry him.
Along the river's banks, blue-domed mosques and a handful of old houses that somehow survived Saddam Hussein's urban renewal projects dot the banks, along with ugly apartment buildings and government ministries. A few gulls in the sky above surprised Mr. Yaqoob, who had not seen any in months.
The gulls did not have the sky entirely to themselves, though, as three American Black Hawk helicopters suddenly popped up to the east, then banked left and swept down the river. But within a couple of minutes the helicopters disappeared, and the Tigris was quiet again. The Black Hawks come once or twice an hour, flying fast and low on their way to Mr. Hussein's Republican Palace, which now houses the headquarters of the American-led occupying authority.
The ferries generally relay people who live on the west bank of the river to Baghdad's biggest market, on the eastern side. There are bridges nearby, but the traffic around the market is so bad that the boats are generally quicker than cars. On an average day, Mr. Yaqoob has about 40 customers, mostly regulars, and makes about 4,000 dinars — $2.
The Tigris, like so much in Iraq, is not what it used to be, Mr. Yaqoob said. It once teemed with fish, but they have mostly disappeared from its murky waters. The river "needs someone to take care of it," he said. Then there are the bodies. "A lot of people try to swim, and they don't know how, so they drown," he said.
While the boatmen may seem to be some of the luckiest people in Baghdad, they do not see themselves that way. License fees are high, and they must work in the summer's heat and the winter's cold, said Ali Hussein, a pilot for 35 years.
Docked near the market, Mr. Hussein said he works for the money, not because he particularly enjoys the river. "It's a job," he said.
But in the late afternoon, with the sun disappearing to the west and a slight chill in the air, the river seemed the finest spot in Baghdad. As Mr. Yaqoob cruised north, gulls floated above in the fading light.
Suddenly a gunshot popped 100 yards away on the eastern bank, scattering a flock of pigeons nested in an abandoned building. Then another, and another, and another, the fourth slapping off the water not far from the boat. Mr. Yaqoob did not even look up, much less rev his engine to escape. With Baghdad on both sides, where could he go?
Disclaimer: Opinions posted on Free Republic are those of the individual posters and do not necessarily represent the opinion of Free Republic or its management. All materials posted herein are protected by copyright law and the exemption for fair use of copyrighted works.