ITCHY FEET TRAVELS

Baghdad, Iraq

June 14, 2023

Having traveled in the neighboring countries before, I knew well the hospitality of the people in this part of the world. I have tales aplenty in Iran,  in Turkey and in Central Asia where I have been befriended, helped and invited home. In Iraq it was the degree of helpfulness that was astonishing.

Just before leaving for Kerbala, I spoke to Abbas, a fellow guest in the hotel in Baghdad. He said he had a friend in the city and would put me in touch and true to his word, did so. I was contacted and offered help should I need it.

In Baghdad, I was waiting to buy a SIM card at a store when a man walked in. “Are you from India?” he asked. And went on to say he had spent five years studying in India. Mustafa and I exchanged contacts and he offered to help locate a contact in Al Hillah where I was headed.

Sure enough, I was contacted by his friend Hyder, who had also studied in India. It was with Hyder’s help that I found a place to stay in the town. Hyder took time out of his busy schedule to show me Hillah one evening and insisted on treating me to a lovely meal in a restaurant that I would otherwise never have visited.

Samawah is a city where hardly any traveler stays but I did because I wanted to visit Uruk. In the hotel there, a mere question of how to get to Uruk opened the proverbial can of worms. Apparently, I needed a permit for this site which I lacked. I was crestfallen but wait, they told me and proceeded to find a solution. Ahmed called friends of friends to pave the way and when my meager Arabic floundered, video calls were made to his nephew who spoke English and could explain. On hearing that I could not access ATMs in Iraq, Ahmed wanted to pay for my hotel in Nasiriyah! I had an uphill battle to refuse without causing offence. The owner of the hotel insisted on giving me a ride to the shared taxi stand despite my protests.

In Nasiriyah at the café they refused payment for the shawarma I had. And I met Ali who insisted on visiting the sights I wanted to see, driving us all in his car. Not just once, but during my entire stay. Thankfully he did not mind sharing costs. He and his friends carved out time from their normal work schedules to go along on my hare-brained jaunts. “You are a guest” and that seemed to end the discussion.

Wanting to see Eridu, Larsa and Lagash and knowing I needed a permit I went to the museum to speak with the Head of the Department of Antiquities. No stranger to bureaucracy, I had expected miles of red tape, applications in triplicate and more likely than not, a refusal. Welcomed in with warmth, I was given the requisite permission graciously. Not only that, he made a few phone calls and offered contacts of men who could show me the sites.

In all the shared taxi rides, falling into conversation with my fellow passengers, I found the same willingness to help. At the many checkpoints, whether needed it or not, I had help from fellow passengers who spoke a smattering of English.

The oft repeated “welcome to Iraq” and the offers to help are not mere lip service. They are genuine, made unstintingly and humbling to receive. This is Iraq.