This is a sad account of the murder of a young man in Iraq at hands of American Troops. You may recall I put up a post about three from PA who have been discharged for similar crimes. I regret My Country is associated with such events. It's a mark against our National Character and crime against the humanity of a people who hold different beliefs from the 'Zionists' and their 'neocon' puppets. I don't know what else to say except I am sorry it happened and I do not support such actions on foreign soil in an unjust war for false reasons. Feel free to comment or e-mail: wahkonta@graffiti.net
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Interview with Zaydun's family

An investigation is already being carried out at Tikrit. I was promised a copy of the results from the family when it's over and I'll publish them as soon as I have them. In the meanwhile an Iraqi freelance journalist was in Samarra, and upon hearing about the incident from his hotel keeper he visited Zaydun's family for an interview. Here is the story:

The streets of Samarra were almost empty. After a 15 minutes walk we reached a house at which several cars were parked close by. Many people were entering the house, others were just leaving. Mohammed told me that this was the family's residence.
We went inside and greeted everyone. Mr. Ma'mun Fadhil Hassun Al-Samarrai was accepting words of consolation and comfort from his visitors with such a sad and distressed look on his face. I heartily shaked his hand and sat beside him. I asked him what had happened. Someone said "Why don't you speak to the mother?". The father didn't seem to welcome this suggestion, but after a while and with the help of some of the relatives and visitors he reluctantly agreed.

She was dressed up all in black. Sounds of sobbing and weeping filled the room which was crowded with mourning women. The father introduced me to her and asked everyone else to leave. I sat down with both the mother and the father. "Salaam aleikum Um Zaydun" I greeted her. Her words came rattling out of her throat. She wasn't speaking, it was almost like moaning. I asked her if she could tell me the whole story.

"Zaydun was my oldest boy" she said. "He was a student in the sixth grade adabi, and even though he was still a student, he insisted on depending on himself. He was a straight and friendly young man, loved and admired by everyone for his politeness and his kind heart. After school he usually works with his cousin in a small KIA truck. On Saturday 3/1/2003 they had agreed to deliver cargo which consisted of toilet parts from Baghdad to Samarra, and indeed they were on their way to Samarra when their truck broke down near Balad, and by the time they had it fixed and resumed their journey to Samarra, the curfew was about to start in the city..". I couldn't help it, so I interrupted her here: "Excuse me ma'am, but where did you get all this information?".
"My son was martyred and his cousin survived to tell us the story." she boldly replied.
"Why do you say he was martyred?" I asked again.
"When a Muslim is killed on the hands of a non-Muslim he is a martyr. That is what we were taught since we were young".
I apologized for the interruption and continued to listen.

She added that on their reaching Samarra, an American patrol stopped them near the Samarra Pharmaceuticals Factory (ma'mal adwiyat samarra) at 10:45 pm. The curfew starts at 11 pm. After closely inspecting the truck and its cargo and searching the two boys they motioned them to go on. When they had just moved, one of the American armoured vehicles followed them and ordered them to stop again. They told them to dismount and then tied them up and ordered them into the American vehicle. After a small ride the vehicle stopped and they took them out and untied them near the hydroelectric station. There was a checkpoint of the Samarra defense force nearby, and they noticed the American patrol and pointed their lights at them. Here the soldiers seemed to change plans and ordered the two boys into the vehicle again and moved on...
Wailing came from one of the rooms in the house and Um Zaydun paused for a few seconds and she looked like she was struggling to continue.
"They took them to the first gate of bawabat nadhum al-tharthar and 5 soldiers ordered them to jump down below...". She burst into tears at this point, and I was feeling rather embarrassed. I apologized again for my intrusion at this difficult time reminding her of the terrible details of her son's death.
"They pushed my boy first" she continued, "And then his cousin who got caught in a tree branch which saved his life... the soldiers were joking and laughing...".
"I'm sorry ma'am, but what is the name of the surviving cousin? Can I speak to him?" I asked.
"His name is Marwan Abdul-Hakim Fadhil Hassun, and yes you can speak to him" she said with tears rolling down her cheeks.
"What about your son?" I asked her.
"We haven't found him yet. They tell me they have found his jacket. I wanted to have it, but they kept it away from me. I only want to hold it and press it to my heart because it was the last thing he was wearing in his final moments... Do you know how painful this is?... Can you imagine what it must feel for me?.. I'm calling for all mothers to join my voice in my demand for an investigation into this crime which I have never heard or read anything like... By God I ask you, have you?".
I searched my mind in silence for a moment and with nothing to offer I said "God give you faith and patience to deal with all this. But one last question, Um Zaydun, what did you do?".
"I wrote to a letter to president Bush and other world leaders and humanitarian organizations asking for them to look into this, and I hope it reaches them... I know they can't bring my boy back to me.. But it will be an echoing scream of a wronged mother seeking her rights in this oppressed world... What happened to my son is an example that everything they promised from democracy and human rights was fake..".
"I'm sorry ma'am, but I forgot to ask you about the car, where is it?".
"I don't know anything about that. All I know is that it belonged to a third person, and the cargo was for a fourth person" she answered me.
I got up. "Thank you ma'am and please accept my sincere condolences and may God grant you patience and consolation for your grief".

I left the room with the father and asked him to help me meet his nephew Marwan. He called one of the relatives and told him to get Marwan. After some waiting a distraught chubby young man entered the room. He greeted me when the others informed him of my mission. I asked him if we could talk privately, but Mr. Ma'mun said it would be better for the rest of them to hear the story again. "Ok" I said "Where do we start?".

"I'm a student in my first year at the Teachers Institute computer department. I have evening classes which allowed me to use the free time in working and helping out my family with the extra money I earned. I work in a small cargo truck as a driver, and my cousin Zaydun works with me as an assistant. On Friday 2/1/2004, a store owner in Samarra employed us to pick up a cargo of toilet parts from Baghdad. We left early on Saturday morning and after we finished buying and loading the cargo and were on our way back to Samarra, there was a sudden failure in the truck which forced us to stay in Balad for a few hours. After we got it fixed we reached Samarra at 10:45 pm. An American patrol halted us near the Samarra Pharmaceuticals factory, and after a scrupulous inspection of the car and both me and my cousin, they permitted us to go on. When we had just moved about 20 metres, they followed us and stopped us again. They ordered us out, locked the car and handed us the keys, and then they tied us up and took us into their vehicle...".
"Why did they stop you again after they had allowed you to pass?" I asked.
"I have absolutely no idea why".
"Could it be that you were suspected or wanted individuals? Excuse me for asking such a question".
"If we were wanted, do you think we would have been able to go back and forth from Samarra every day with all the checkpoints and patrols on the roads?".
"Ok. Please continue".
"They were driving to an unknown destination by us, and after a few minutes they stopped and we got out, they untied and lead us to the first gate of the dam on the Tigris river from the Samarra end of it. The gate is one of three that are part of the hydroelectric station. Someone from the Samarra defence force pointed a light in our direction from a distance to identify us, so the soldiers motioned us into the vehicle again and they drove in the direction of the Al-Hawish area.
"Why did they do that? Where they afraid of the Samarra defense force?".
"No, they don't, but maybe they didn't want anyone to witness what they were preparing to do. We stopped again, this time at the first gate of bawabat nadhum al-tharthar which regulates water to the Tharthar reservoir and to the Al-Katm irrigation canal. We dismounted and they ordered us to jump down into the strong current. When we refused they cocked their weapons. I mumbled the Shahada because I was certain that we were dead. They pushed Zaydun first and I followed. The water was freezing. I stuck to a tree branch, my cousin was struggling and trying desperately to get his head out of the water to catch a breath. I tried reaching out for him but he was drifting far with the streaming current. The soldiers sttod for a while with their weapons pointed at us and they were laughing wildly. I saw my cousin disappearing gradually into the water".
"Ok Marwan, but how did you survive then?".
"Well, after what seemed like hours of struggling with the flowing water, and after seeing death between the reeds and the dam walls, my legs were freezed and my whole budy numb. The soldiers left in their vehicles and I got out of the reeds and started to climb the stone walls of the sadda alturabiya and I was up on the road near the Samarra defense force checkpoint. I was wet and shivering, they took me in, helped me undress, and supplied me with clothes and and blankets. They told me to stay till the morning, I was still scared stiff of what might be still planned for me but I drifted away into sleep".
"What about the car and the cargo?".
"The next day when I returned home, I found out that American tanks crushed the car with its cargo, something very common in our parts".
"What do you feel now after your survival?".
"I feel guilty about my cousin's death, and I can't stop thinking that if we had died together it would have been better, but I guess that was the will of God".
"Can you give people a description of this story?".
"I can only explain the story and its details and I leave the judgement to you and the people who will be reading it".

I thanked Marwan and I thanked Mr. Ma'mun again while they were demanding from me to tell the story and the truth as it happened. I left them with a sense of a huge responsibility burdening my back which was greater than anything in my power that I could do about it.

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