The News From Planet Falluja (Page 3)

Despite the Islamic motifs of life in Falluja, the muj there are not Taliban purists. The commanders all drive nice cars, BMWs and Mercedes. "No one has clean clothes, but the top guys are immaculate. They're just gangsters," says Tariq, switching momentarily from a tone of respect to one of disgust.

What comes through most clearly in his tale is the desperation of being under siege. "At one point they brought in this young guy who was dead. That night his mother, who just went nuts with grief, came out and woke her three other sons and told them to go the the front, saying, 'Your brother is not dead. Finish his work.' "

When Tariq tried to talk politics with the muj he found them surprisingly uninformed and self-contradictory. At times they would say Falluja will be the capital of a new Islamic state and that America will be destroyed. At other times they would admit that the only real solution to Iraq's occupation was political and that their military effort had limited effect.

Eventually a lower-ranking muj stole $400 from Tariq. There was an inquest, with lots of swearing on the Koran. It was clear who the culprit was, but once the Koran had been sworn on it was between the thief and God. Nonetheless, the man of the house in which the cell was then staying had his honor at stake (hospitality is hugely important in Iraq). The man, also a fighter, sold off some weapons and demanded that Tariq take the money. Tariq refused, which infuriated and demeaned his host. Finally Tariq agreed to accept part of the sum, which he then quietly left in the host's living room.

At this point Tariq negotiated the return of his passport and was finally allowed to work in a clinic (it was too dangerous to get to the main hospital). But by then the stress was getting to him. He told the cell commander that he needed to head back to Baghdad--to the hotel where I am staying, in fact--to think things over. The muj let him go but asked him to come back. Then they said they would bring his computer to the hotel (none of us were very happy about that idea).

"Tariq was kidnapped, but he is too proud to admit it," said the ex-military man who advised him against going to Falluja. "And he put your lives in danger, without asking or warning."

As I write this, Tariq is recuperating, oscillating between flippant jokes and humble epiphanies about Iraq, war, himself and the meaning of "solidarity" in a conflict where madness has become the norm.

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