Celebratory walk to mark freedom from dictatorship

Fifteen years ago Mala Yasin made a promise. It is one he has never forgotten and one that he must now finally honour. In 1988, he was living in the northeastern Iraqi town of Halabja when it was attacked with chemical gas by Saddam Hussein’s forces. When Mala saw the bombs and destruction, he immediately knew what had happened and wrapped a wet scarf around his eyes and mouth. He did the same for his aunt, and together they fled towards higher ground and the Iranian border. When they got there, the border guards asked them what had happened and helped them get treatment. That attack, one of the most brutal and horrific crimes committed by Saddam and his men, killed 5,000 people in Halabja. When Mala made it back to his town, there was nothing left except bodies. The houses were ruined and life as he knew it had been destroyed. He therefore moved to the main eastern city of Sulaymaniyah, where he promised himself that whenever Saddam was killed or captured, he would walk back to Halabja. Last week, when he saw images of Saddam being examined by a US Army doctor, he burst into tears. "I was so happy that I couldn’t stop my tears," he told IRIN on the road leading out of Sulaymaniyah. He had gathered together what money he could - about US $20 - and bought sweets. Twenty-three kg of them in fact, or 5,000 sweets to mark the number of the Halabja gas attack victims. He had packed them into a tatty black sports bag and a canvas backpack and then set off on foot, on the 100-km journey. He hoped to complete it in two days, but having left Sulaymaniyah even as early as 05:00 local time it may take him three long days to reach his destination. Draped across his body, he carried a copy of the most famous photograph from Halabja: of Umayri Khawar, who died at his front door during the attack trying to cover and save his precious six-month-old son. Umayri’s sacrifice and suffering became the symbol of Halabja’s horrors, and a sculpture in Halabja’s town centre now commemorates it. When Mala arrives in Halabja, he will distribute the sweets to the residents and offer congratulations on the capture of Saddam, as is the custom in Iraq when good things happen. In doing so, he will also become a symbol - of the Kurdish people’s joy at the final fall of Saddam, particularly for those who lived through the attack on the town. Asked if he had lost family members in the attack, Mala was visibly upset and said all those who were killed had been his brothers and sisters. He has never married or had children, but counts his neighbours and friends who died as family. He looks older than his 46 years and suffers from a degenerative back condition, which has forced him to give up working as a labourer. His load is obviously a strain for him as he walks, but Mala insists that he is so happy that he does not feel the weight. And besides, "a promise is a promise, which I must keep". There is fresh snow on the mountains along his route, and his corduroy trousers, black slip-on shoes and jersey do not offer much protection from the wind. But he claims he is fine, his load keeps him warm, and he has an umbrella if it rains. Along with the sweets and photograph, he carries the Kurdish and Iraqi flags, as well as those of the US and Britain. "Please tell the Coalition forces that you made us safe from this dictator - you are a great rescuer," he said. Asked what he wants to happen to Saddam, Mala says he would like to be the one to mete out justice to the former leader. Although in reality he knows that Saddam must face a fair trial under international law, he has his own ideas about what ought to happen. "Bring him to Halabja and let him face justice there, because it is a symbol of one of his worst crimes. He was such a dictator that he doesn’t deserve anything - he doesn’t deserve the name of even a tiny creature on the ground." One day Mala would himself like to return and live in Halabja, but this could prove hard to accomplish with his house destroyed and no money to rebuild it. Yet when a passing motorist tried to give him some dinars he insisted he could not take them, because he himself must pay to keep his promise to make the pilgrimage. After much debate, he agreed to take the money - but it would not be for himself. "I will give it to the widows of Halabja," he said before picking up his load and resuming his sad but celebratory walk.