Unlike Turkey, there just isn't much for bus service in Northern Iraq. So, I had to rely on taxis - or perhaps taxi is too kind - the junk-car-mafia might be a better description. It is best to pile in with four other travelers because then you all share the price. Often though, they want to short-cut through Mosul and Kirkuk - bad guy places. So I often rented the whole taxi to myself to go through the mountains. And, my first visit to Iraq was the Ramadan holiday time. And that "holy" season often sees days without many people at the "taxi garages'' during certain hours. So on the day in question, I had to ride the 50 miles to Zakho, Iraq, alone whether I wanted to or not.
You know one of the only bus lines I was able to use was the ride from Sulaymaniyah to Halabja on the east side of Iraq which is only five miles or so from Iran. That ironically, I considered one of my most complicated and dangerous days I had in Iraq. It just wasn't a route you would expect a bus to go. The whole mini bus was stopped for 20 minutes so a theifdom checkpoint could figure out who I was. But, the Zakho taxi ride on the west side of Iraq escalated to almost match the Halabja ride.
The 50 mile taxi ride from Dahuk back to Zakho went well until we got to town. ''I'' and only ''I'' of course, misunderstood the Arabic numbers used to agree on the price of the taxi ride before hand. But that was the least of my impending problems.
The taxi driver pulled into Zakho and he immediately shifted into, I-can't-find-the-hotel-mode. And to his credit, all the hot shot mafia drivers were...., off for the holiday. This guy was a mope from top to bottom. He was older and seemed to have trouble seeing and breathing. I knew where the tiny hotel was because I had stayed there on my first night in Iraq. I started to see landmarks and knew I could walk from that point, but he rolled on seemingly determined to play stupid for as long as possible even though I gestured in every sign I could for him to stop.
The straw that broke the camel's back for me was after he drove down three dangerous alleys. One of said alleys which was a dead end, was a great place for an ambush or even better a...., kidnapping. When he finally pulled out of the alley maze, he turned down a one way street the..., wrong fucking way. The police and militias in Iraq enforce no traffic laws except for that one way thing..., because it seems, somebody going down the wrong way could be a bad guy trying to do some kind of damage with a bomb of some sort. So of course this guy being on a ''stuck-in-stupid'' mode, broke the only traffic law anyone in the entire region enforces.
Keep in mind this fool drives the Zakho route for a living. By then I had the door open, but he turned right into a machine gun check point. I had almost completed my first trip to Iraq relatively unscathed and now in the eleventh hour, guns pointed at us from every direction. A Kurdish Pesmerga soldier slung open my door and another the driver's. I was staring at the business end of an AK-47. While the driver tried to explain his lunacy to the soldiers, I got out and waited to pay him. Then he jumped out of the taxi (soldiers at his sides), and wanted to argue about the price after almost getting us both machine-gunned.
It is like their Christmas Day this special day of the long Ramadan month. All the shops are closed except some sidewalk toy vendors. That in itself is creepy, because the streets usually bulge with people. All that was in the streets this day were: Plenty of soldiers; adolescent and teenage boys by the hundreds playing with realistic toy guns (to make matters worse they play with fire crackers too); and, a few people trying to get to their relatives' houses for the after sunset holiday meal.
When ever there is a car wreck in Turkey or Iraq, or even some problem with a work truck, farm tractor, or any vehicle for that matter, the men and boys boil out to the street and crowd into the scene for a first hand view. Then they talk loud about it. They all put in their two cents - it is a custom - even a damn habit if you will. In one minute, the taxi was surrounded by three hundred men and boys (the boys all with real looking toy guns).
I threw the money at the taxi driver, grabbed my bags, pushed away from the taxi, and proceeded to turn right into a Pesmerga soldier with a machine gun. I held my breath. But, he just touched my elbow, gave me a reassuring smile, pointed at the taxi driver and said in rather good English....
...., ''Idiot.''
Note: This blog "Fate Fairies" - book version Category is a work in progress. The original vignettes are being edited for book form. Go to the Cooldadiomedia Web site and the Fate Fairies Page for an ordered chronology of the book vignettes (chapters).
