UZAYR, Iraq, 5 October 2003 — Nadje balances his boat in a choppy waterway as he reaches out to gather reeds — an age-old scene in the marshlands of southern Iraq, yet one that is strangely unfamiliar to most in his village.
The ancient culture of Iraq’s Marsh Arabs — one of the oldest in the world — was driven to the brink of extinction during brutal persecution by Saddam Hussein. Now, slowly, it is reviving, helped by a campaign to re-flood the parched marshes.
“I have been a shepherd for twelve years, but this is the first time I have spent the summer on a boat,” Nadje said.
The Marsh Arabs have inhabited the lush swamplands at the confluence of the Tigris and Euphrates rivers since the dawn of civilization, their lifestyle virtually unchanged for 5,000 years — until the 20th century took its toll.
The bright lights of the cities attracted some away from their traditional life. Others were driven away by the slow destruction of the ecological system they relied upon for fish, reeds and transport.
By 1991 the number of Marsh Arabs had stabilized at around 200,000. But following the suppression of a Shiite uprising in southern Iraq in 1991, Saddam’s government launched a brutal campaign to destroy the Marshes and eliminate a people he considered enemies of the state.
Dams, dykes and earth barriers were built to stop river water flowing into the marshes, shattering the fragile ecosystem and ruining the livelihood of the inhabitants. Human Rights Watch has estimated that just 20,000 are still living in the 15 percent of the natural marshland that remains.
Now, the US-led occupiers of Iraq are trying to repair the damage and save a dying culture.
“One simple measure of persecution was the diversion of fresh water from tributaries that flooded part of the swamps. Our first measure in the re-flooding of the Marshes has been to reverse this,” said Ole Stockholm Jepsen, agricultural adviser to the southern sector of the US-led administration.
“By November we will have employed 50,000 people from the countryside at a cost of $8 million to clean the canals and channels for irrigation,” he said, adding that plans for large-scale changes in the water system were “in the pipeline”.
“These people have been welcome nowhere and oppressed by every sort of authority in the last 20 years. Their infrastructure is incredibly basic,” he said.
“We have a chance to really make a difference.”
Troops from Britain’s Kings Own Scottish Borderers, responsible for the most populated areas of the region’s Maysan province where three-quarters of the people live below the poverty line, say they are doing what they can to help.
“We want to give them the benefits of modern living while trying not to take the place of their traditional ways of life,” said company commander Major Stuart Irvine
“At the moment we are focusing on schools, security and hospitals, but the task is enormous — we don’t have the manpower to do it all”.
The Marsh Arabs also draw hope from the appointment of one of their leaders as a member of Iraq’s 25-member US-backed Governing Council.
Abdul Karim Al-Mohammadawi, known as “Prince of the Marshes”, was jailed for six years for leading a resistance movement against Saddam in the marshlands.
Tens of thousands fled to Iran from southern Iraq during the persecution of the 1990s. Many are now returning.
“There is no way we can police the border completely,” Irvine said. “Numbers and identity are a mystery”.
The August register for ration distributions in the Basra governorate showed a rise of 110,000 people.
An old army base close to Nadje’s village now serves as home to 30 people who have returned to the Marshes after their community was forced into the town of Uzayr in 1999.
But many Marsh Arabs are still languishing in slums in Basra and other urban centers. Some hope to go back to their old way of life, but others say it is too late to change.
The late Wilfred Thesiger, the British explorer who lived with the Marsh Arabs in the 1950s and documented their way of life, ended his celebrated book on their culture with a warning that it may not survive the temptations of modernization. In many cases, his fears have been fulfilled.
In one Basra slum district, 50-year-old Wisam says he dreams of moving his family back to the Marshes one day. But his youngest son, 16-year-old Hussein scoffs at the idea.
“You can’t even buy a felafel in the Marshes,” he said.
