Iraqis relearn old means of communication after bombing knocks out phones
BAGHDAD (AFP) Mar 31, 2003
Ahmad Qassem won't really have a day off this week. His day-trip home will be consumed by no less than 15 visits to relay greetings from colleagues cut off from their families by US bombings that have severed telephone lines.
"I keep receiving requests by colleagues to contact their families. Up until now I've been asked by 15 of them, and more seem to be coming," said the 36-year-old as he waited at the Al-Alawi station for the bus to the southern city of Babylon."This is definitely ruining my day off. Instead of spending quiet time with my family, I will have to make visits to 15 neighbors," Qassem said.
A week and a half of massive US and British air strikes have targetted a number of communication centers around Iraq, including at least seven in the capital, cutting off hundreds of thousands of telephone lines.
Each center services about 25,000 homes.International lines have been totally knocked out. Most local lines have been damaged, with many areas suffering complete cuts. In Baghdad, telephone calls can now only be made within a district.
"I can only call my neighbors, but why would I need to do that when I can call them from out my window?" joked Faleh Salim, a grocer on central Saadoun Street."What we need after nights of massive criminal bombings is to speak to our family members in other parts of Baghdad or to anxious relatives in other provinces," he said.
Most people have to drive -- or failing that, to bike -- to spread news to their families or conduct business.
"I sent my family a letter, but they didn't believe the messenger, so I had to go and show them that I was actually safe," said Ali Ahmad, a taxi driver.
The attacks on telecommunication centers are part of the US strategy to "tighten the noose" on the regime in the war aimed at toppling President Saddam Hussein.
But effectively, it is Iraqi civilians who are hit where it hurts most.
"I can't call my family, which must be very worried, and I can't call or fax my business partner in the northern city of Mosul to know what to do with some transactions," said Abu Kamal, who owns a clothing store on Saadoun."I resorted to my grandfather's way of doing business: I sent my partner a letter two days ago. Can you imagine?"
Most Iraqis used to picking up a phone now have to resort to the old-fashioned way of communicating.
The Hafiz al-Qadi parking lot in central Baghdad from where Iraqis drive to Syria and Jordan -- the only two countries they can cross to -- is full. Not full of vehicles, but of people with letters in their hands.
"They are waiting for cars to venture on the dangerous journeys to Damascus or Amman to ask the drivers to carry their letters," explained Ismail al-Kurdi, who runs a small transportation business on the premises."It takes about 12 hours of driving, often under bombing raids," he said.
A message left to one driver reads: "My dearest daughter Nur ... I am sending you this letter with dear brother Sabri, the driver kindly taking this letter to Amman" at a charge of about five dollars.
Sabri said the man "hadn't been able to call his family for weeks, but said he was not worried because 'God will keep Iraqis safe.'"
Badih Shaloub, 43, paced nervously, holding a small folded piece of paper in his clenched fist."I am waiting for a car to leave because I need to find my family. I've lost contact with my wife and my 12-year-old daughter Nawras," he said.
Abu Nawras, as he likes being called, has two numbers on the hand-written page: one in Dubai and the other in Damascus."We lived in Yemen, but my wife didn't want to stay there. So I'm guessing they are at some relatives in either Dubai or Damascus by now," he said."I don't know where they are because I left in a hurry when the war broke out. I wanted to come here to carry arms and defend our neighborhood," he said proudly.
Iraqis relearn old means of communication after bombing knocks out phones
BAGHDAD (AFP) Mar 31, 2003
Ahmad Qassem won't really have a day off this week. His day-trip home will be consumed by no less than 15 visits to relay greetings from colleagues cut off from their families by US bombings that have severed telephone lines.
"I keep receiving requests by colleagues to contact their families. Up until now I've been asked by 15 of them, and more seem to be coming," said the 36-year-old as he waited at the Al-Alawi station for the bus to the southern city of Babylon."This is definitely ruining my day off. Instead of spending quiet time with my family, I will have to make visits to 15 neighbors," Qassem said.
A week and a half of massive US and British air strikes have targetted a number of communication centers around Iraq, including at least seven in the capital, cutting off hundreds of thousands of telephone lines.
Each center services about 25,000 homes.International lines have been totally knocked out. Most local lines have been damaged, with many areas suffering complete cuts. In Baghdad, telephone calls can now only be made within a district.
"I can only call my neighbors, but why would I need to do that when I can call them from out my window?" joked Faleh Salim, a grocer on central Saadoun Street."What we need after nights of massive criminal bombings is to speak to our family members in other parts of Baghdad or to anxious relatives in other provinces," he said.
Most people have to drive -- or failing that, to bike -- to spread news to their families or conduct business.
"I sent my family a letter, but they didn't believe the messenger, so I had to go and show them that I was actually safe," said Ali Ahmad, a taxi driver.
The attacks on telecommunication centers are part of the US strategy to "tighten the noose" on the regime in the war aimed at toppling President Saddam Hussein.
But effectively, it is Iraqi civilians who are hit where it hurts most.
"I can't call my family, which must be very worried, and I can't call or fax my business partner in the northern city of Mosul to know what to do with some transactions," said Abu Kamal, who owns a clothing store on Saadoun."I resorted to my grandfather's way of doing business: I sent my partner a letter two days ago. Can you imagine?"
Most Iraqis used to picking up a phone now have to resort to the old-fashioned way of communicating.
The Hafiz al-Qadi parking lot in central Baghdad from where Iraqis drive to Syria and Jordan -- the only two countries they can cross to -- is full. Not full of vehicles, but of people with letters in their hands.
"They are waiting for cars to venture on the dangerous journeys to Damascus or Amman to ask the drivers to carry their letters," explained Ismail al-Kurdi, who runs a small transportation business on the premises."It takes about 12 hours of driving, often under bombing raids," he said.
A message left to one driver reads: "My dearest daughter Nur ... I am sending you this letter with dear brother Sabri, the driver kindly taking this letter to Amman" at a charge of about five dollars.
Sabri said the man "hadn't been able to call his family for weeks, but said he was not worried because 'God will keep Iraqis safe.'"
Badih Shaloub, 43, paced nervously, holding a small folded piece of paper in his clenched fist."I am waiting for a car to leave because I need to find my family. I've lost contact with my wife and my 12-year-old daughter Nawras," he said.
Abu Nawras, as he likes being called, has two numbers on the hand-written page: one in Dubai and the other in Damascus."We lived in Yemen, but my wife didn't want to stay there. So I'm guessing they are at some relatives in either Dubai or Damascus by now," he said."I don't know where they are because I left in a hurry when the war broke out. I wanted to come here to carry arms and defend our neighborhood," he said proudly.
