Sunni Arabs flock to Fallouja to escape Baghdad violence. Their goal: ID cards.
By Tony Perry
Los Angeles Times, 04 January 2007
FALLOUJA, IRAQ — In desperation and anger, they arrive daily at a Marine outpost here: Sunni Arabs fleeing the violence in Baghdad and often pleading for U.S. protection against Shiite death squads.
Two years ago, it was the opposite. Fallouja residents fled their city for the relative safety of Baghdad before a violent clash between U.S. forces and the Sunni-led insurgency.
Now, the city astride the Euphrates River has become a sanctuary from the violence in the nation's capital.
"In a bizarre way, we've become the protectors of the Sunnis," said Marine Col. Larry Nicholson, commander of the 5th Marine Regiment with responsibility for Fallouja.
The refugees, or "internally displaced persons" in the jargon of the United Nations, are directed to a small collection of buildings at the edge of the city called the Fallouja Development Center. Their goal is a plastic identification card with their name, picture and the prized designation: Fallouja resident.
Estimates of the population vary, but the International Organization for Migration said last year that nearly 40,000 people, nearly all Sunni, had fled west to Sunni-dominated Al Anbar province, where Fallouja lies. The U.S. State Department says the numbers may be much higher, and growing.
Only adult males are required to get identification cards to enter Fallouja. With a card, a man can bring his wife, children and other relatives.
Marines interview each applicant and subject him to a fingerprint and retinal scan to weed out those known to have significant criminal or insurgent histories.
"A lot of guys did a lot of stupid stuff in the last few years: like taking $200 to shoot an RPG [rocket-propelled grenade] at a Marine," said Staff Sgt. Eduardo Nagy. "Those guys we might let through, but if they lie to us or have a heavy history, they get more scrutiny."
Such checks are necessary because of concerns that the influx could provide recruits for the insurgency, leading to a new round of instability and warfare in Fallouja. Recent arrivals could also spark confrontations with longtime Fallouja residents over housing, food and jobs.
"We know Al Qaeda is trying to recruit from the new ones, particularly teenagers; they're very cheap labor," said one American official.
Because of the widespread destruction from the 2004 assault, housing is still marginal, with many families living in structures without power or water and pockmarked by gaping holes left from artillery and small-arms fire. Health care is also scarce.
On a busy week, about 1,500 people get the coveted ID card. Some are fleeing Baghdad; others are Fallouja residents renewing their cards. Still others are from as far away as Basra, where Shiites are fully in control.
The center where they apply for their cards is a small, one-story concrete building by a courtyard and fountain, with plywood buildings and olive-drab tents of various sizes added by the Marines. There is no greenery, only fine-grained dirt and small rocks.
The complex is ringed by concrete barriers topped with razor wire. Gun towers are occupied 24 hours a day by Marines.
Much of the security duty falls to musicians from the 1st Marine Division Band, whose unofficial slogan is "we're not only musical, we're tactical."
Before the Iraqis can approach, they are kept in a parking lot behind ground-level strands of razor-wire. They are hand-searched, then subjected to an infrared scan and a hand-held wand similar to those used at U.S. airports. They are ordered to line up single file in groups of 20 or more and taken under guard to begin the application process. They are never out of sight of armed Marines.
The process can take several hours, with applicants allowed to sit in three waiting areas. On a chilly, windy day this week, some watched a DVD of "How the Grinch Stole Christmas." Four Marines operate the retinal scans, the fingerprint technology and the cameras.
During the interviews, there are points of contention, with U.S. officials trying to knock down rumors about American brutality. But there also are points of agreement.
"I know you guys came here to help," said Mohammed Khalid, "but you don't know how to help."
"You know, you're right," replied a State Department representative. "We've spent a long time trying to figure that out."
State Department employees do random interviews to get a sense of the turmoil in Baghdad and whether the new arrivals are sympathetic to the insurgents in Al Anbar who are fighting the Marines with roadside bombs and sniper attacks.
The Sunnis tell stories of brutality and rampant fear in Baghdad: a relative shot in the street, a merchant who had his head and legs chopped off, friends who have been burned to death or had holes drilled in their bodies while they were alive.
"Now our city is just a graveyard for Sunnis," said Ahmed Kareem, a doctor. "I am not able to go to the city where I was born. It is not fair."
Others show an affinity for Islamic militants from abroad. "Al Qaeda is a bad organization, but they are here to protect Sunnis from the [Shiite] Iranians," Khalid said. "We feel safer with them here."
A common theme among the refugees, American officials said, is that the U.S. should help the Sunnis fight Shiite militias because the Sunnis and the U.S. share a common foe: Iran.
"Support us with weapons, and we will fight," said Mahmood Taha, a taxi driver. "It is better for the U.S. to make a deal with the mujahedin because Iraq and America need to fight Iran."
Beyond the violence, the refugees decry an out-of-control economy, with shortages and black-market gouging for necessities. "You came here to bring us freedom," said Kareem, the doctor. "With Saddam [Hussein], propane cost 250 dinars. Now it costs 25,000 dinars. That is not freedom, that is not democracy."
Among the refugees, suspicion is mixed with pleading, sometimes wrapped inside anger and wild rumors about American brutality.
"They're a lot like us; they're looking for a better life," said Maj. Scott Crockett, an American Airlines pilot and Marine reservist who is the Fallouja center's director. "They just happen to be living in the middle of a war."
Compared with the embattled provincial capital of Ramadi, the Marines say, Fallouja is a success. Its population has returned to the prewar figure of about 300,000.
There is a quasi-functioning City Council, they say. And police show up for work, even though 40 recruits, as well as two City Council members, have been killed in recent weeks.
Attacks on American patrols are down, although Nicholson's convoy this week had a furious firefight after being ambushed in downtown Fallouja. Nobody was hurt, but a day later three Marines were killed by small-arms fire in Fallouja.
Berms have been built around neighborhoods, and access to the city is limited to six checkpoints. This month, the Iraqi security forces will take over one of the checkpoints, a major test.
Local sheiks, standoffish after the fighting in late 2004, have begun encouraging young men to join the police force.
Relations between the Iraqi army and police have improved since the spring. Back then, the two forces exchanged shots. "Luckily, they didn't hit each other," Nicholson said.
The U.S. is quietly handing money to Iraqi contractors for water treatment projects in Fallouja and repairs for hospitals, schools and roads. The Marine Corps has earmarked $7 million, the Army Corps of Engineers about $250 million.
The contracts are given to the Iraqis with no outward sign that the U.S. is involved.
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Citation: Tony Perry. "Iraqis seek a new haven in an old hotspot," Los Angeles Times, 04 January 2007.
Original URL: http://www.latimes.com/news/nationworld/iraq/complete/la-fg-refugees4jan04,1,1744571.story?coll=la-iraq-complete
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