Walk in the park

Laith, one of the Iraqi reporters, had been telling me about the growing crowds at Zawra Park, the vast public park in central Baghdad. Families and young couples were taking advantage of the relative improvements in security to visit the park, a showpiece during the Saddam era that has been decaying during the war.

On Saturday afternoon, I decided to visit Zawra with Laith, Sahar and two of the office drivers. It was a quiet day news-wise, and I needed a breather having spent all of Friday inside the hotel. We also thought there might be a story to be done about the crowds at the park.

Of course, a walk in a park in Baghdad isn't quite like any other walk in a park. A foreigner going anywhere in the city is a potential target for kidnapping or worse, so we needed to keep a low profile. That required planning my afternoon jaunt during the morning news meeting with the staff. Kevin, our security adviser, asked of me: "Does he have to go?" Laith and Sahar were adamant that it was safe.

I wanted to know whether it would be possible to talk to residents, and to take some pictures. Laith told me to write down a couple of questions for him, and he would do all the talking. Kevin began to look a little concerned.

"You don't do any talking," he said to me.

Sahar agreed. With my complexion I could pass for a local, as long as I didn't open my mouth. Sahar then rattled off some instructions: Walk slowly, with the rest of the group. Don't look too closely at others. Don't speak in English. Don't do anything to draw attention to yourself. Just. Blend. In.

I dressed in drab-colored clothes and left anything that I felt would mark me as a foreigner or journalist in my room. As we prepared to head down to the cars, Kevin caught me and pointed to the pair of Ray-Bans perched atop my head. Would sunglasses identify me as a foreigner? Do Iraqis wear sunglasses for a walk in the park? (It was a cloudless, 95-degree day; I hoped they did.) Sahar said no problem, I could wear them. But on second thought, I dumped the shades in the office before we headed out the door.

After a short drive and then a rudimentary security check at the park entrance, which was fringed with concertina wire, we were in. We spent longer in the park than Kevin would have liked -- nearly an hour. There were dozens of families there, picnicking, kicking soccer balls around and even going for rides in a tiny amusement park.

As we gauged that no one was looking at us, I spoke softly to Sahar and Laith, suggesting people to interview and making cracks about the young couples we spotted hiding under trees off the main path through the park.

Except for the occasional buzz of U.S. military helicopters over the ferris wheel, it felt like a Sunday afternoon anywhere else in the world.

Comments

[Milagros]

Great post. When do your fans get to read the story?

[The Face of Afrika]

Glad to visit your blog and read news about Africa. That's what we intend to do at The Face of Afrika, a new blog about inspirational African history.
Keep up the good work!