Shhh… Top Secret Info Included, and What WMD’s?

Once upon a time, not too long ago there was a king whom lived in a palace in Aqaba, which lay on the outer coast of the Red Sea. Aqaba was a beautiful, hot land; temperatures were around 40 degrees C on the beach. In Aqaba there was a man, whom was named “Bickram” (not his real name), who was an important figure in the Iran-Iraq war and Gulf War I days.

All of the above is true and what I write below is true as well. None of this is a fairy tale (or horror story).

It is Friday and today we are getting together with Bickram. He has asked that his real name not be used for safety reasons. We have just gotten off the bus that brought us to Aqaba. It took us nearly four hours to reach the city. The majority of the ride was through barren desert.

Once we arrive, instead of meeting Bickram, “Sundi,” whom is a close relative of Bickram, meets us. Scotty doesn’t seem to mind, but I can see that Brandon and Mickel are clearly bothered. Jay is not with us as he decided to spend the day with some friends. We meet at a small bar in the hotel Movenpick, which is currently the one and only five star hotel. The Saudis have pumped hundreds of millions of dollars into the tourist industry here. Soon the town will be extended deep into the desert valley beyond.

Sundi informs us that Bickram is not feeling well and is in desperate need of rest. We don’t argue as it would do no good, and Scotty needs to talk to these people in order to get the story. As it turns out, we do not get much time with Sundi; an hour at most. He does not feel safe being out and about; after I hear what he has to say, I do not blame him.

After ordering a round of drinks, we sit and Sundi immediately starts telling us about Uday Hussein. He had met the man before the first Gulf War. According to Sundi, Uday was “dim-witted” and his head seemed to be full of “blandishments and praise from those around him;” so much so, that he believed he was invincible.

“In Iraq he was, but if he was placed in a bar room brawl anywhere else, then he would be on the floor in a second, begging for mercy.”

We are only thirty minutes into our conversation when Sundi suddenly waves to a good-looking, older man who just entered the bar. He wore a dark blue suit and sunglasses.

“Palace security,” Sundi informed us. “Someone from the palace must be here. Either that, or this guy’s on vacation.”

We later find out that about 20 percent of those staying in the hotel were secret police.

Great.

Around 10 AM Saturday morning Bickram’s driver picks us up. He takes us to a newly built apartment complex, which is built for engineers in Bickram’s new business. When we arrive, Bickram is waiting. He looks tired and worn out, but he readily welcomes us… from his chair.

Sundi is there too.

We talk about !@#$ and ##!$# and #!@#% and other things not blogable -- Bickram has lived many lifetimes in one -- and then he orders shwarmas. He tells us he knows where the Weapons of Mass Destruction are in Iraq.

"He had them alright, but they were all destroyed in this place @#@ kilometers @#$# of Baghdad."

We ask where exactly, in which place.

"Ohh," he signs. "You journalists, always wanting something, always using this." He taps his nose. Soon he is fast asleep in his chair, like Old Brown the wise owl in Squirrel Nutkin. After awhile we leave titillated but with nothing solid, except for the shwarmas swirling in our maadooteht.


It is Sunday and we are finally back in Amman. We missed the last bus and instead had to take one earlier this morning. It was a long trip back, one I hope I never have to take again. But it is nothing like the journey that is ahead of us.

I slept for the next four hours. I can't seem to get enough lately; the same goes for my travel mates. There's so much noise everywhere--the horns honking at all hours of the night, the muezzin from the minarets, the hotel neighbors who blast televisions refusing to sleep, the loud music on the four hour bus ride to and from Aqaba.

"Do you think there's any peace in Iraq?" I ask Scotty, hoping that even in a country at war I'll be able to sleep regularly.

We leave for Iraq soon--in the next day or two. We have yet to work out the details of how we'll travel. From Amman it is a twelve-hour journey to Baghdad.

Jay tells us that, "It's not like the states where you have rest-stops every few miles. You want to be well when you travel."

The next morning Jay speaks to some friends and arranges a ride for Scotty and I. Mickel, Brandon and Jay will follow soon afterwards. A driver will pick us up at sunrise the next morning, as he is already heading that way anyway. A few hours later the others will leave with another man whom has some business in Baghdad as well.

We’ll stop on the border of Jordan-Iraq and then we will race at 150 km for 12 hours, non-stop. It's about 320 kilometers or so of barren wasteland between Amman and the Iraqi border. Our driver, Mundep, didn't want to lose any time getting there, just in case there were any hassles from passport control.

I feel like we are in the Subaru Primal Quest Race, only somehow, I think this just might be a little more extreme.

The majority of our money will be left with Mickel and the guys, as well as some of the equipment. It is agreed that the likelihood of both vehicles getting attacked (blown up) is less likely; only one vehicle is thought to make it. Mundep tells us that we should be fine; he used to travel back and forth weekly. He insists that it is all talk and no real action, but I can’t help but be afraid. We also spread out our valuables just in case we are robbed. If we both make it across then we will have all of our supplies, if not, at least one group will be able to continue with out original reason for coming here.

Since leaving, Mundep has been to Baghdad fives times in the last few months. This does little to restore my faith that we will be safe. Especially when he tells me about the one time he did have a problem. He was traveling with a convoy when the car in front of him was shot at--bandits tried to pull the car over without success.

"Don't worry," he said. "Everything will be fine."

And all I can think is, great… we’re going to die.

There will be no more cyber tunnels from this point on, so posts will be far and few. From here on out we will be relying solely on our satellite modem, which we have connected for the first time last night in Aqaba. The satellite is in the southern sky, so hopefully we will get a room that faces south. We will be posting our blog and pictures via the stars-thuruya- next time, which hopefully will be in a day or two.

Until then… here we go!