Former Seattle man says he'll stay in Iraq despite danger
On this morning, a dust-streaked BMW slides up. Out steps Khuder Al-Emeri, wearing a gray robe. His deep-set eyes, hinting of sorrow and stubbornness, are hidden behind gold-rimmed sunglasses.
The farmers circle him and yell out a litany of complaints, hoping that his U.S. connections will help them understand.
Why is there no compensation for a 9-year-old boy whose father was shot by a Marine and who must work to help support his family?
Why are there so few jobs?
Why are clothes and medicine so expensive?
Why is security so bad?
"You have got your freedom but you must be patient," Al-Emeri says. "Saddam destroyed the whole country."
Al-Emeri, 44, is an expatriate who came home. The Iraqi Army veteran and rebel, who once had a price on his head, is starting over — again — after a dozen years away from Iraq, eight of which he lived in the Seattle area.
A year ago he was hired to be a translator and guide for the eventual U.S. military push to Baghdad. With an international press corps in tow, Al-Emeri's tearful return home to Qal'at Sukkar in April was flashed around the world.
After briefly returning to Seattle this fall, Al-Emeri says, he has returned to Iraq to stay. With the United States in Iraq, he believes his homeland offers an abundance of business and political opportunities.
His return, however, has not been easy and at times has been outright perilous.
A religious fervor is growing in Iraq, and some are willing to fight to make it an Islamic state rather than the secular one favored by Al-Emeri.
At night, he hears grenade explosions unleashed by an Islamic paramilitary group that trains in the courtyard of a high school.
Murderous bandits roam a stretch of road outside of town where three people were slain in a single day this month by auto thieves. Local police claim they don't have the firepower to pursue them, and so the tribes, whose rule dates back to ancient times, have taken to resolving disputes.
"The only thing that is cheap right now is human life," Al-Emeri says. "You pay 1 million dinar (about $800) to settle a case, and that's it. Tribal rule. This is something that should have gone away 1,400 years ago. Now, we are in the 21st century."
New start, renewed threats
Al-Emeri first left Iraq in April 1991 after joining a failed uprising against Saddam Hussein. He eventually traveled to the United States where he earned his citizenship. But his wife, Kabelah Hamad, balked at leaving their homeland and kept their three boys in Iraq throughout her husband's exile.
Their union, arranged by their families, soured. Hamad continues to live with the couple's boys in the family house, and an interview with her could not be arranged. Al-Emeri, who lives down the block with his brother's family, acknowledges the hardships Hamad surely faced under Saddam's rule as the wife of a rebel.
His brother's home is built of a green-hued brick and plaster, simply furnished but comfortable. Spacious floors are covered with patterned rugs.
But outside, much of Qal'at Sukkar is in disrepair. The town of 45,000 appears to have gained little wealth from the oil wells to the east. Many homes are crumbling with age, and gray water drains freely from kitchens to the alleys, even flooding a soccer field.
Garbage that once cluttered the main street was swept up and dumped in piles out by the livestock-auction grounds. Some potholed side streets still are littered with refuse, serving as unsavory grazing ground for goats. The elementary school received a recent coat of paint but has broken windows, fans that don't work and missing plaster.
But Al-Emeri, an optimist, sees signs of progress.
On a walk, he points out the produce stalls full of lettuce and colorful winter vegetables that grew in the best winter rains of the past decade.
In the town center, artisans labor in closet-size shops. Al-Emeri points to a welder who is turning recycled rebar into crib frames for young families.
He stops to visit the proprietor of small electronics shop, who says business has increased 10-fold over the past two years. Much of the demand comes from government workers whose pay has been increased under the U.S. regime, he says. Toaster ovens, microwaves and satellite dishes, which allow access to dozens of new channels, are hot sellers.
At Al-Emeri's brother's house, a new favorite is "Seinfeld," the humor conveyed by Arabic subtitles.
Most important of all, for Al-Emeri, his hometown is finally free of Saddam.
For years, the Shiite Muslim community suffered at the hands of Saddam's Sunni government. Many people here now revere President Bush and eagerly seek copies of his picture to hang on their walls. But many Shiites also are frustrated by the lack of jobs and security, and they are impatient with U.S. military control. Within the past week, they have taken to the streets by the thousands in Baghdad and other cities to press for elections this spring to determine a new government.
"Now we are one with the American people and need to maintain that relationship. But once we have a new Iraqi government, the Americans need to go," says Arkan Trad, a City Council member.
This call is echoed forcefully at a nearby mosque. There, an imam on Fridays talks of an Islamic state, free of the United States.
Failed rebellion
Al-Emeri first thought freedom was at hand in 1991, as the United States military swept Saddam's elite troops from Kuwait. The first President Bush urged Iraqis to rise up and seize power.
Al-Emeri was the prosperous owner of three businesses, including a center-of-town kebab restaurant. He drove a Chevrolet Malibu, owned a new house and three electric generators. Success was his, but it had not come easily. He had survived eight brutal years in the Iraqi army fighting Iran and saved money by driving taxis and produce trucks. With three young sons, it would have been easy to stay at home as the revolutionary fever swept through the south.
Instead, Al-Emeri says, he became a ringleader. "What Saddam Hussein has done to the Iraqi people, we will never ever forgive," he still says.
He told his wife little about his plans, fearing she would try to dissuade him. Instead, he organized and helped lead the March 2 attack on the local Baath party headquarters, a gated building near the center of town. Of the 35 men, five were Al-Emeri and his brothers.
The uprising was successful — but lasted just a night. Iraqi special forces swept in the next day and reclaimed the headquarters.
Al-Emeri's younger brother Mohammed, 29, died in the fighting. The four surviving brothers buried him the next day. Fearing for their safety, they fled to Saudi Arabia. As they left, Al-Emeri says, a $10,000 price was put on his head.
A life in exile
The Al-Emeri brothers spent four years in Saudi Arabia, then three left for the United States, where with the help of the Episcopal Migration Ministries, they resettled in the Seattle area. Al-Emeri's fourth brother, Salah, eventually made his way back to the family's home.
Al-Emeri's life in Seattle was a roller coaster. He worked as a dry-cleaner operator and a cook before opening Rosemary Mediterranean Restaurant on Aurora Avenue North. Business imploded after the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks, and Al-Emeri says he was never sure why: Was it the bad economy, or a backlash against a Muslim businesses? He abandoned the venture and struggled to find work.
"He was a fighter, and not one who would let the world overwhelm him," said Greg Hope, who works with Episcopal Migration Ministries. "When people said bad things about Iraqis, he would pick up on that. But he wasn't going to let that get him down."
Through good times and bad, Al-Emeri says, he always wired money to his family. His emotional anchor was his brother Hassan, who had opened the Colby Halal Market in Everett, offering rose water, chickpeas, hijab scarves and other staples of Iraqi life. The store also has a back room serving up sweet tea and kebabs and is a gathering spot for the Iraqi community in Puget Sound.
His brother Ali struggled through a series of jobs in different cities. But all three brothers kept their ties to the Iraqi National Council, an exile group that arranged for translators to accompany last year's invasion.
A year ago, on Jan. 15, the brothers got a call from Washington, D.C. It was time to fight. Ali and Khuder Al-Emeri chose to go, while Hassan stayed in Everett. "I was ready to go but my brothers, they don't let me; they said we don't want all three brothers to maybe die," said Hassan, who has a 3-year-old son.
Khuder and Ali joined 70 other expatriates as the Free Iraqi Forces. They trained for six weeks in Texas and Hungary, then joined the Marines as they poured from Kuwait into Iraq in March.
Within a week, the 24th Marine Expeditionary Unit had fought its way to Nasiriyah, about 60 miles south of Qal'at Sukkar.
"I told my commander that I wanted to go to my hometown," Al-Emeri recalled. "He said, 'No, I need you here.' I said, 'Please, I must go,' and finally he said yes."
His homecoming was a joyous affair. Friends, nephews, nieces and Ali, the eldest of his three boys, swarmed him. But Al-Emeri's wife did not show up, nor did his two younger sons Sgad, and Thow Al Fakhair.
Al-Emeri was disappointed but had little time to reflect on their absence. He joined the Marines in blowing up a picture of Saddam at the police station. They marched into the station, seizing records, and stormed a second building, where the secret police were headquartered. Finally, they entered the Baath party headquarters, which 12 years earlier his brother Mohammed had died trying to take.
Inside, Al-Emeri says, he found his own file, which branded him an enemy of the state and offered a reward for his capture. He stuffed it into his duffel bag, and headed on his way.
Al-Emeri continued to work for the U.S. military, occasionally shuttling back to Qal'at Sukkar. He finally visited his wife but got a cool reception.
His trips home nearly cost him his life. Last summer, his U.S.-issue Nissan pickup was overtaken on the road by thieves. They sprayed the truck with gunfire, wounding him in the buttocks, forced him off the road and then made off with the truck.
His job finally ended Aug. 15. The military threw a sumptuous buffet at the Republican Guard Palace in Baghdad for the Iraqi expatriates. They received a medallion and letter of commendation: "Their unique contributions contributed substantially to the success of our military operations, and undoubtedly saved American lives on several occasions," wrote Brig. Gen. John Kern.
Returning to Seattle, he faxed the letter to Halliburton and other U.S. contractors operating in Iraq. None offered employment. "That's the one thing that I'm bitter about," Al-Emeri says. "No one would give me a job." So he flew to Germany, bought a BMW with savings and spent four days driving to Qal'at Sukkar.
Adjusting to hometown life
These days, Al-Emeri spends a lot of time walking around his hometown, talking to people about their problems.
He has his own problems to resolve. He's trying to get the government to give back the center-of-town building where his restaurant once was located. He built the structure with his own labor, and figures he, not the government, should collect the rent.
Al-Emeri found the thief who had stolen his truck and who had shot him. The police weren't much help but he has asked a tribal sheik to settle the matter. He wants compensation for the vehicle and the loss of his personal papers, including his Baath party dossier.
He has edged into politics, helping to open two offices in southern Iraq for a new independent party. But here in Qal'at Sukkar, the town already boasts four Islamic parties. One of those has claimed the prime location — the old Baath party headquarters that Al-Emeri fought to liberate.
Back at his brother's house, the two men sip gin in the evening as cats scurry about the courtyard. Sometimes, Khuder's sons drop by to visit. His son Ali says he wants to study in Washington state to be a doctor. Maybe in Iraq. Maybe somewhere else.
Security remains a concern, Al-Emeri says. He carries an AK-47 and a pistol when driving his BMW. He posts an armed guard outside his house each night.
One night this month, several loud bursts of automatic gunfire erupted just outside the courtyard of his family home. Al-Emeri and a teenage nephew grabbed AK-47s and headed into the street. For a few tense minutes, it appeared like a firefight might ensue. But the gunman proved to be just a drunken young man out for a joy ride in his car. And Al-Emeri had no wish for blood to be spilled. He helped calm his nephew, then went inside to finish a meal of lamb kebabs.
About a half hour later, the father of the young man showed up to offer his apologies to Khuder and his brother Salah. The three men shared a cup of sweet tea, oranges and embraced.
All was right again, at least on that night.
Hal Bernton: 206-464-2581