Part 2: End of ‘golden age’ in Iraq
Excerpts of Aram Roston's book, ‘The Man Who Pushed America to War’
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“We liberated Iraq.”
—Ahmad Chalabi’s campaign slogan in Iraq, 2005
In the palace, the Crown Prince, the power behind the throne, got out of bed and turned on the radio to hear the news of his downfall, and then rushed out to surrender. The story goes that when the royals gathered in the courtyard, an Iraqi army captain slaughtered them, riddling their bodies with machine-gun fire in one long-sustained burst.
It was still the early hours of the morning when members of the wealthy Chalabi family, at their homes in the Baghdad neighborhood of Adhamiya, learned of the coup. Three majestic adjacent homes all belonged to the Chalabis, a close-knit clan. The Chalabis gathered hurriedly to consult on what to do in this new and sudden crisis. The children had slept on the roofs too, under the Baghdad sky, and now they watched the adults as they debated in fright. Children can sometimes sense these things, and the children there had a foreboding that this day was different, that it symbolized an ending of things as they had known them. The grown-ups quickly reached their decision, and then they acted.
Young Ahmad Chalabi, thirteen years old, black-haired and serious, was herded with his mother and the others into a convoy of big American sedans to flee their mansion. Ahmad left behind the basketball hoop he had helped to set up. He left behind the ping-pong table, which slid behind a specially constructed wall. Abandoned as well, just for a time that day, were the pet parrots in the massive cage — almost as big as an aviary — squawking away in the excitement. The brightly colored birds were just one of the delightful and distinctive things in their stately home that the Chalabis were leaving behind. The family split up. Some of the men, joined by the foreign minister of the country, Fadhil al-Jamali, and by Chalabi’s much older brother Rushdie Chalabi, fled from town to hide. The rest, including Ahmad and his mother and several siblings and nephews and cousins, drove to Khadimiya, back then just a suburb just north of Baghdad. Khadimiya, a Shiite stronghold, had been the Chalabi family’s main base going back for generations. In fact, Medina Abdul Hadi was an adjacent enclave named for Ahmad’s father. Luckily, on this day Ahmad’s father, Abdul Hadi Chalabi, was out of town; he was in Tehran when the revolution began.
But according to family lore, the Chalabis did not even venture into their compound in Khadimiya, called Seef, which had been a splendid place to play and hunt and celebrate in a well-tended orchard — a wonderland where Iraq’s royalty and elite held their parties and festivities. No, the family didn’t even go there; instead they crowded into the home of an ally in Khadimiya. They needed somewhere to hide from the soldiers and mobs. While the rest of Iraq was celebrating the bloody revolution, the Chalabis were targets, clustered in their host’s estate for shelter.
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