Sandstorm hits Baghdad

The sandstorm swept in without warning overnight, covering everything in its wake in fine particles of dust.
By morning Baghdad was cocooned inside a yellow haze of dirt. Visibility shrank to a few meters, erasing almost all trace of the Tigris River that slices through the capital.

Many people wrapped a scarf over their mouth and nose for protection and sheltered their eyes behind a pair of goggles or shades before venturing outside. Some even purchased the sort of white face mask a dentist would wear to help them breathe, while anyone with asthma stayed at home.
Every year at about this time sandstorms engulf Iraq like a dirty blanket of fog that clogs the air and leaves behind a thin layer of filth.
Majid Kamal, a traffic policeman, who spends his day zipping around Baghdad on a motorbike, was aghast when he awoke last Thursday to discover that the outside world had been transformed into a dust cloud.
“This sand gives me a headache,” the 35-year-old said. “I tried to get the day off but my boss refused because he feared the bad conditions would cause more road accidents.”
After several hours spent driving around breathing in the dirt, however, Mr Kamal’s chest and eyes were so sore that he was allowed to knock off early.
Like many Iraqis, the dust reminds the traffic policeman of the start of the invasion five years ago, which was also blighted by a huge sandstorm.
“At that time, I was made to stand outside 24-hours-a-day,” Mr Kamal said, noting that Saddam Hussein had ordered all his security forces to work.
Latifah Hussein, 43, views sandstorms as a bad omen.
“This is a sign from God. It is not a good sign for the poor people,” said the housewife, dressed in a long, black robe as she popped outside her Baghdad apartment to pick-up some medication from a local pharmacy.

In contrast, the pharmacist was rather pleased about the change in the weather because he had flogged 25 packets of face masks during the first morning of the sandstorm. “I usually don’t sell any of these things,” he added.

The dust, which cleared up briefly the next morning before returning by midday, grounded planes, both military and civilian, and prompted many people to stay inside, with streets all but deserted and roads less congested than usual.
It also curtailed football practice for a group of children who meet three times a week to kick a ball around a new-looking pitch next to a park on the bank of the Tigris in central Baghdad.
“The sand caused me some breathing difficulties,” said 12-year-old Sejad Majid as he walked off the pitch at the end of the one-hour session.
Coach Haider Abid Sabah said that he usually trains the children for two hours, but had halved the time because of the weather.
“It has made me feel poorly as well,” the 41-year-old said, while adding that the dust was “good because it stops rocket and mortar attacks. We are close to the Green Zone so they sometimes pass right overhead”.
Moments later, however, two loud booms signaled that the dust had not completely discouraged insurgents from attacking the fortified compound, home to the Iraqi Government as well as the British and US embassies.
Aside from the sheer unpleasantness of breathing in particles of sand, the storms also cause a lot of extra clean-up work once they pass.
My bureau was particularly badly affected after a gust of wind blew open a main window in the middle of Thursday’s assault, inviting a sandy fog to descend on my belongings, which made everything look a hundred years old.
Despite several attempts to wipe surfaces and vacuum carpets, I’m still finding swathes of dirt on ledges, behind doors and even in the bathtub.

 

[Picture 1: Deserted park on the bank of the Tigris River, which is hidden by the dust;
Picture 2: A pedestrian in Baghdad wears a face mask to help him breathe
Picture 3: Football practice ends early because of the sandstorm;
Picture 4: Coach Haider Abid Sabah, student Sejad Majid and former professional footballer Laith Hussein;
Picture 5: A thin layer of storm sand on top of a weird fake fish ornament thing in my office.]

Comments

[Kieransmum]

This is a brilliant blog.

[Scott]

Yes, not quite a "Curse of the Mummy" sandstorm, but it was bad enough. The worst part is that you can taste the dust and smell it for days afterward. No telling what it's doing to our lungs. The locals have the right idea, with the shmagh, the traditional scarf worn by Arab men.

[Rob]

Good article. Insurgents aside, it's great to hear the views of so many locals on a subject so unrelated to the occupation.