I Was Saddams Prisoner
Chapter One
It was past midnight. The inmates in the cell were all half asleep,
after a day, which had ended with a lot of anxiety and fear. Fear
reigned everywhere; the fear of being summoned by the "Muhaqqiq" for an
investigation that never seemed to end, of being beaten till you bled
profusely1 of being tortured till your nerves were wrecked. And then the
massive metal door creaked, with a squeak harsh enough to send your
blood tingling.
Every time the guard, the Haras, turned the keys in the hole, the door
unlocked in stages, with a sharp metal voice. The leaning, reclining and
sleeping inmates sat erect, with all alertness, like a flock of
frightened sheep, expecting the slaughterer to enter the pen and make
his pick.
But this time it seemed odd. Odd because the activities normally ended
before midnight. So everyone looked questioningly at each other,
shuffling his blanket full of lice, ready to meet the fate. A Haras
entered. "Inhadh", he shouted, and commanded us to vacate the front
part of the cell and push ourselves to the rear. In a cell which could
hardly occupy three scores, we were three hundred.
Behind him entered a young man, stark naked except for a brief
loincloth. He seemed to be in his early twenties. His head was shaved
except for the two gleaming black locks, which gave an impression of two
eyes grown on the head. His eyebrows totally shaved, his moustache
half-shaven. Blood streamed from his chest, back, arms, thighs and legs.
He had been chastised with the lashes, which turned his skin violet, and
showed the marks clearly. His ghost-like appearance scared everybody,
most of us unable to meet his glance, which showed utter helplessness
and distress. And then we saw Abu Mahmood, dressed as usual in his black
double-breasted suit, with a wry smile hanging on his thick lips.
"Tell them!" he shouted at the tortured young man. "Tell them of your
sins, and why have we treated you thus". And the young ghost muttered in
Arabic. "I had been here few months ago, and then I was released. As I
went home, I informed some of my relatives and family friends about the
whereabouts of their missing members. They had disappeared, and the
families were worried. I told them, they were all detained by the
Mukhaberat, and that I had met them. I am now arrested again and
convicted of having disclosed the secret".
"Did you hear him"? Abu Mahmood blurted. And every one of us answered
in a chorus: "Na'am Sayyidi". The message was conveyed. The young man,
hardly able to walk was then pushed out of the door, taken away to where
nobody knew.