Inside Najaf’s holy shrine with al Sadr’s defiant fighters

The fate of the shrine — and with it the Iraqi government’s attempt to end al-Sadr’s insurgency — still hung in the balance yesterday. Despite days of bombardment by the Americans and their Iraqi allies, the cleric still appeared reluctant to relinquish control and make good his pledge to hand over the keys of the shrine to Grand Ayatollah Ali al-Sistani, Iraq’s Shi’ite religious leader.

Al-Sadr’s aides insisted the Mahdi army should remain in the old city and continue to guard the mosque, a move that Iraq’s government has vowed to prevent. “The Americans will not be allowed into Najaf,” said one aide.

Last night they were still bickering with top Shi’ite religious leaders over the terms under which they would hand over the site. Sheikh Ahmad Shaibani, a senior aide to the cleric, said the fighters would stay until the safety of worshippers wishing to return home was guaranteed. They were also demanding that an independent committee draw up an itemised list of the gold and other priceless treasures in the shrine.

After a day of relative calm, the sound of mortar, rocket-propelled grenade and machinegun fire again rang out, and a pilotless American drone crashed into the city. Al-Sadr’s fighters claimed they had shot it down.

We had reached the shrine the previous evening after a terrifying journey that began with a drive — or rather a crawl — through labyrinthine back streets and continued with a trek on foot in sweltering temperatures of more than 50C.

The fighters of the Mahdi army shouted from the shadows as we waved frantically in their direction. “Sahafa, sahafa,” we cried. “Journalists, journalists.”

With American tanks behind us and snipers all around, the glint of the militiamen’s machineguns ahead was not encouraging. Our hearts racing, we stumbled forward. I struggled along, covered head to foot within the stifling confines of a black chador. The garment was elegantly topped by a flak jacket; I wore a bulletproof helmet over my thick black scarf.

Debris and wreckage were everywhere: twisted metal, severed electric cables, rubbish that had not been cleared in more than two weeks, broken pipes, and a mixed stench of sewage and gunfire filled the air. Even the few stray dogs cowered in the shade of alleyways, too frightened to bark.

An old man peered out from behind a door. We had further to go, he said, until we reached the shrine of the prophet. “May Allah protect and guide you safely,” he said.

From here on, our guide said, we were on our own. Ahead was another main road to cross, and then if we survived until the earth mound at the end we would have reached the Mahdi army. Dry-mouthed and intoning our personal mantras and prayers, we made a final dash for the relative safety of the militiamen’s quarters.

“Really, you don’t need to raise your arms here; and remove your helmets,” one fighter said calmly. “You are totally safe now.”

We broke into laughter as they joked and talked, offering us water, apparently immune to the deafening mortar exchanges. “They can have the shrine, but they will never beat the Mahdi,” said one fighter. “We were not formed by Moqtada. We fight as free people defending our land and holy sites from the occupation.”

Sarab, another fighter, said: “Every one of us has vowed to turn himself into a time bomb against the Americans.”

Eventually the crumbling brick and wood houses of the alleyways gave way to the great space of the mosque, its massive dome towering above us. In contrast with the battle-scarred streets, the shrine appeared untouched.

Nearby, two huge pots of rice and a bean stew cooked slowly on an open fire. The militiamen gathered in small groups for their food. The same cooks fed “human shields”, a mixture of young and old, some lying on mattresses, others circling the dome reciting koranic verses.

Shaibani warned that if any harm came to al-Sadr, the Mahdi army could be ungovernable: “If such an assassination occurs, then the Mahdi army in all the other cities will be without a spiritual leader and nobody will be able to control them.”

If and when the Mahdi army lays down its weapons, however, it is unlikely to receive a warm welcome from Najaf’s new authorities. In his temporary base on the other side of the city, Ghaleb al-Jazaeri, Najaf’s police general, complained that the fighters had killed many of his men and threatened their families.

Jazaeri’s own bedridden 80- year-old father had been kidnapped from his home in Basra, while his nephew had been abducted, burnt and beheaded. His hatred for al-Sadr’s fighters was evident.

“I have the force and power to go on the street and harass their families, even kidnap their wives and children, but I will not stoop to this,” said Jazaeri. “They are a bunch of liars, thugs and criminals and I will get them in the end, but through the right channels.”

Mohammed Abdul Wahab, a young sergeant, was brought into the office. His family had been attacked the night before and two of his brothers, also police volunteers, had been kidnapped by Mahdi fighters.

A message had been left with Wahab’s mother saying the Mahdi would behead him for “being a member of the police force and an American agent”. The sergeant, moved to tears, was undaunted. “I will not leave the force,” he told his chief. “I am an Iraqi working for the protection of my country.”

As Wahab left, two vehicles brought in 14 Mahdi army prisoners arrested by the police. The men were blindfolded, their hands tied behind their backs. Police smacked them on the head and kicked them, calling them “filthy Mahdi scum”.

One of them, aged 18, was brought to the chief’s office and made to kneel for questioning. He denied that he was a Mahdi fighter. “I came two days ago to visit the holy sites,” he pleaded.

Jazaeri suddenly removed his pistol and placed the cold metal against the prisoner’s forehead. “Unless you start talking and telling me what the Mahdi army are doing inside and what weapons they have, I will shoot you,” he said calmly.

“But I know nothing,” sobbed the youth. He was led away for further interrogation.

Down the hallway, prisoners who had already begun the same process could be heard pleading for mercy, interrupted by the occasional thump and kick from their interrogators.Later a mortar fired by the Mahdi fighters smacked into the station, killing eight of Jazaeri’s officers and injuring 35.

“We hope there will be no ceasefire and no peaceful resolution between us so that we can storm them and finish them off,” said one policeman, mourning the new losses.

“If they are not finished off militarily, then we will enter a phase of personal assassinations and that will be ugly, too.”

It was still not clear last night whether the policeman’s wish for a bloody denouement to the crisis would be granted. For Iyad Allawi, the hawkish Iraqi prime minister, the Mahdi army is a growing challenge to his fledgling government’s authority. But even he has realised an all-out assault is too costly, both politically and in terms of human lives. Any storming of the shrine would inflame Shi’ites around the world.

It was a message taken up by the Mahdi fighters. “He (Alawi) has sold his soul to fight and resist us, he has sold his soul, he has sold his soul,” they chanted. “Our souls are a sacrifice to al-Sadr.”

SOLDIERS KILLED

ONE American soldier was killed and two were wounded yesterday when their vehicle was hit by a rocket-propelled grenade in Baghdad.

The soldier, who was not named, was the 950th member of the US military to die since the invasion of Iraq in March 2003.

Elsewhere, a Polish soldier was killed by a bomb that hit a supply convoy outside Hillah, 60 miles south of the capital. Six others were wounded.

In the northern city of Mosul, an Iraqi National Guard soldier died in an explosion. Insurgents also bombed an oil pipeline south of Basra. Exports are running at half their normal levels.