Iraq’s former leader Saddam Hussein was more than just a ruthless dictator. Like most psychopaths, he could be likable—even charming—when he wanted. Saddam Hussein was a survivor. He came from peasant stock and learned early on that in order to move up, he had to make the right friends, use them and dispose of them.
However, his eldest son and “original” heir-apparent Uday inherited none his father’s manipulative charm, and all of his ruthlessness. Uday, who was born into power, used only fear to move through life.
Whereas Saddam was omniscient figure that the average Iraqi saw only in newspapers, on street murals and on television. Uday, on the other hand, was much more visible in person, with his entourage of shady characters driving expensive cars. He appeared in public mostly at night, going from one upscale nightclub to another. He was even known to crash the weddings of women he had previously been interested in.
During my travels to Iraq over the past three decades, I came face to face with Uday on a few occasions. The first encounter was in 1990, four months after Iraq invaded Kuwait. In order to stall the imminent invasion, Iraqi authorities rounded up all the male westerners they could find in Kuwait and Iraq and held them against their will at strategic installations they believed would be targeted by the American-led coalition. As international pressure mounted to release the “Human Shields,” Iraq decided to host an international Music and Sports Peace Festival as a way of gaining sympathy for their country. The host of the festival was none other than Uday Hussein.
People from across the world flooded into the Iraqi capital. A Japanese senator arrived with an entourage of wrestlers, musicians, and kite flyers. A group came from the US, claiming to be an all-in-one basketball/volleyball team and singing troupe. Even former heavyweight boxing champion Mohammed Ali showed up with assorted peaceniks and businessmen.
Uday was the center of attention, dividing his time between listening to impassioned pleas from politicians and housewives to release the “Human Shields” and attending almost every festival event. He beamed when Iraq’s national basketball team demolished the American singing troupe.
When the festival ended, everyone nervously waited to see if the Iraqi parliament would vote in favor of releasing the hostages. Was the festival a success? Was Uday pleased by the turnout? The parliament met in an emergency session and within a few minutes declared that the Iraqi military was now strong enough to defend the ‘homeland,’ so there was no need to hold any foreigner against his will.
The years which followed the first American invasion of Iraq took a high toll on the country. The sanctions slapped on Iraq hardly affected the ruling party. Instead, it was the poor and middle classes that suffered. Those who could leave the country did and with them went the vibrancy of Iraqi society. From one visit to the next, I would see shops boarded up. Restaurants and cafes shut down, and Baghdad’s once throbbing night life was reduced to the disco in the Rasheed hotel, one of Uday’s favorite haunts.
One evening a group of friends and I headed to the disco, hoping to cheer ourselves up. By then, Saddam Hussein had put a ban on selling alcohol in public places but the Rasheed disco was left untouched. After too much Johnny Walker Black Label, we hit the dance floor. As the only nightspot still open, Baghdad’s high society was out in numbers. Men and women danced to the Arabic top 40, seemingly oblivious to the hardships the rest of society was facing. Suddenly, I awoke from my alcohol-induced daze and realized that I was dancing alone, with only a few other men scattered across the dance floor. I stumbled back towards my friends and in a loud and boisterous voice asked where all the women had gone.
An Iraqi friend motioned to me to come close and keep my voice down; then he pulled me even closer and said in my ear, “Don’t make it obvious when you turn around, but the party-pooper just arrived.”
NORBERT SCHILLER is a photographer/editor
