Braving threats, shrinking handful of professionals stay in country

Ali Bashir, a lecturer at Iraq’s Baghdad University, has received four threats since the beginning of the year telling him to quit his job and leave the country. “I may die, but I’ll be happy to die serving my people,” said the 52-year-old Bashir passionately. “I love Iraq.” According to officials and media reports, hundreds of Baghdad’s professionals get similar threats everyday. Generally receiving monthly salaries of between $200 and $400, members of the professional class have become prime targets – both for organised kidnappers after big ransoms and insurgents with no sympathy for anyone perceived to be working for the US-backed government. Official statistics indicate that almost 6,000 working professionals have left the country since the beginning of the US-led invasion of Iraq in early 2003 to find work elsewhere. Others, however, like Bashir, have preferred to stay, despite perpetual fears of sudden kidnapping and random violence. “I hope I’ll survive these threats and show the world there is someone who still cares about the future of this shattered land,” he said. He added: “Every day, I kiss my sons before I leave the house because I’m not sure if I’ll be back.” The will to stay “I was born in this country; I was raised here and saw my parents die here,” said Maruan Jaffar, a cardiologist in Baghdad, as he operated on the victim of a recent bombing. “My son was killed in crossfire between insurgents and police, but I’ll stay here because people need me to help save lives.” Samawel Khouri, who works for a foreign company with operations in Iraq, sent his family abroad while he stayed behind. “I sent my family out, but I’m here, and will stay here,” he said. “I can’t leave my country because it needs me here, to work towards a better future for all Iraqis.” “The ones who leave Iraq are just traitors,” Khouri added. Saddon Hussein, an architect with a local company, saw most of his friends leave the country one by one, en route to the booming job markets of the gulf. Everyday, he recalls, they would say to him: “Let’s go – it’s our chance to get rich outside Iraq.” “Now they’re making good money,” said Hussein. “But I still prefer to stay in my country with my poor salary, trying to help rebuild Iraq.” When his friends return, he adds, he looks forward to telling them, “See how wonderful Iraq is now? And I helped make it.” No exit While some have made a conscious decision to stay, others have little choice in the matter. “If I had $500, I would leave the hell that Iraq has become,” said 28-year-old policeman Khalid Sharqs. “But I come from a poor family – we didn’t have any money saved after the war. Without a high-school degree, the only place I can work is in the police, where your life is perpetually at risk.” With a family to provide for, including two daughters in need of university education, Sharqs sees the risk as worth it. “My wife says we can go hungry as long as the girls study,” he said. “At least they’ll graduate and be able to go somewhere better than where they are now.” Like Sharqs, thousands of Iraqis are looking for ways to escape the country’s grim security environment and provide better lives for their families elsewhere. According to Diar Ahmed, a senior official at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, most foreign embassies in the country have closed their doors to visa applicants due to the overwhelming demand for applications among desperate Iraqis. Some embassies also fear that, if they continue to issue visas in Iraq, they will be targeted by insurgents who accuse them of encouraging Iraqis to leave rather than fight the US-led occupation. “Foreign diplomats prefer to grant visas from their consulates in neighbouring Jordan or Syria for security reasons,” Ahmed explained. Maria Madalena, secretary of Brazilian Consular Service in Iraq, said, “We preferred to close our doors so as not to cause the death of our employees.” The fear of abduction Kidnappings of salaried professionals for huge ransoms, meanwhile, are commonplace. “My son was kidnapped last week, and I had to pay a $20,000 ransom to get him back safe,” said Dr Yasser Salam. “They told me that, being a doctor, I must have money.” Salam says the perpetrators, who remain unknown, sent him a piece of his son’s ear to convince him of their seriousness. Ultimately, Salam had to borrow money for the ransom from three friends who had already left the country, all of whom “had seen their sons kidnapped before they left,” he said. According to Hassan Bedir, chief of a police unit devoted to the prevention of kidnapping, there have been 210 cases reported since January. He adds, however, that many more probably went unreported. Most kidnappings, Bedir said, are perpetrated by professional criminals or, in some cases, by family members. “They know where to go and all the details about their target, including how much gold they keep at home,” he explained. “Baghdad is the most affected area in the country, with about one case per day,” noted Bedir, adding that, while some gangs had been apprehended, “an enormous mafia” still posed a problem for police. One convicted kidnapper, speaking to IRIN in a police station in the capital, defended his actions. “The ones we kidnap are sons of doctors, and doctors have money,” he said, boasting that he had kidnapped some 15 children. “It is social work,” he added, laughing. “We’re just taking from those who have a lot and giving to those in need.”