The whole blog is fascinating... should be required reading.

Another look inside Iraq is coming up for those of you within TV signal reach of Canada: Sacha Trudeau (one of the later Canadian Prime Minister's sons) lived in Baghdad before, during and after the major fighting. CTV Sunday Sept. 7, 7 pm (most areas at local time).

Some of his reports have been archived by Maclean's magazine

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March 31, 2003

EDGE OF THE ABYSS

From Baghdad, Alexandre Trudeau reports on Iraq's bitter religious divide

ALEXANDRE (Sacha) Trudeau arrived in Baghdad in early March. The 29-year-old documentary filmmaker from Montreal, the second son of the late prime minister, was determined to tell the story of the Iraqi people. Unlike the majority of journalists, he avoided the major hotels, choosing instead a small, out-of-the-way place in order to prevent his famous name from becoming a distraction. Trudeau knows about war and the military. He served with the Canadian Forces before enrolling at McGill University, where he graduated with a degree in philosophy. Since then he has made documentaries about the civil war in Liberia and the aftermath of the bombing of Yugoslavia. In Baghdad he has come face-to-face with the religious divisions among Iraq's majority Shia Muslims, the Sunni Muslims and Christians. He filed this exclusive report to Maclean's (some of the names have been changed to protect peoples' identities), just hours before the first bombs fell.

"ARE YOU AFRAID of what is to come?" I ask the doctor. "I'm afraid of what comes after death, not of dying," he answers. His eyes are kind and tired. He gently fondles his prayer beads as we talk. I met Dr. Aqbal a few nights before at a religious ceremony, and have stumbled onto him again while exploring his neighbourhood, an affluent quarter in Baghdad where many doctors, lawyers and government officials live. The owners of one house are receiving the men of the area to drink tea, listen to chants, pray and feast. The neighbourhood professionals have put aside their suits and ties and donned robes. The music -- rhythmic, plaintive and fierce -- is calling them back to the desert. "We are chanting to help the souls of the brave reach paradise," Aqbal tells me.

The doctor is a Sunni. His gentle manners remind me of how easily the usually gruff Arab demeanour can lighten up. I vow to seek him out again, and a few days later, find Aqbal at work in his clinic, where he treats arthritis and rheumatism. "This situation, this crisis, is a religious problem," he tells me. "Since we Iraqi people have absolutely no control over this war and have no power to stop it, we can only entrust ourselves to God. This is the way with our lives, too."

My best friend in Baghdad is Omar, also a Sunni. He is a civil engineer by training, but, to make a living, he uses his private car as a taxi. Until recently, he refused to believe that war was coming, even though he went through all the motions of preparing his family home for its arrival. As I have got to know him, I have found out that his father, a wise, kindly man, is a well-known lawyer, and that his grandfather was one of the first lawyers in Iraq. Omar's family has prospered, owning several villas around Baghdad. He loves the traditional Iraqi alcoholic drink, arak, and we have spent many long nights drinking and discussing his country and the war.

Over time, I have learned that he despises Saddam, because Omar is a dreamer and an idealist and loathes men, like the Iraqi dictator, who make political decisions out of a lust for power, not for the betterment of mankind. I ask him what is good about Saddam. "Nothing," he responds immediately. I know that, whatever happens, Omar will always be true to his dreams and that I could always trust him.

Another man I have become friends with is Tariq, a Christian. "We were one million Christians a decade ago. Now we are 600,000," he says. "Does Bush realize what he is going to do to us with his war?" Most Christians accept Saddam because he has always protected them from Muslim fanaticism. Surrounded by Islam, they are extremely devout and take such things as Lent and chastity very seriously, although Iraqi Christians celebrate alcohol as one of the pillars of their freedom, while Muslim clerics discourage drinking.