Suff
02-02-2004, 12:45 AM
The starting bell sounds for the first race of the day at Baghdad Equestrian Club’s Al-Amiryia race track as the red line on the club thermometer edges towards 60 degrees. The horses streak past, providing a brief flash of color in an otherwise monochrome landscape.
The tannoi wheezes a ragged commentary to the hushed crowd. The atmosphere is tense.
Security issues, financial concerns, and a rampant betting mafia blight the once lively atmosphere of the races. A quick glance round the punters squatting in the parched shade leaves an impression of serious moneymaking, not of relaxation or pleasure. Outdoor entertainment has become a liberty few are prepared to take in a city in which lawlessness and random violence leave the public too frightened to abandon their houses for any length of time, particularly if it involves a journey into the outskirts of Baghdad.
“People used to come here after Friday prayers just for fun, without gambling,” said Ali, who was betting small amounts. “Now no one would come for pleasure. We are ashamed to bet. It is against Islam, but it is a way to make money. None of us have jobs any longer.”
The Equestrian Club has already become a target for fundamentalists. Hardline groups have vehemently denounced the club in the press, warning people not to attend under threat of reprisal.
“We wrote back explaining that almost all Islamic countries have racetracks and that the Prophet Mohammed also raced,” said Khalif Alain, the newly elected director of the club.
This did not stop him from arriving at the club last month to find the slogan “Islam prohibits gambling –– do not enter” daubed across the main entrance gate.
US forces patrolling outside add an aura of security, their tanks keeping vigil over the main building. But their protection may only serve to increase the club’s association with the decadent west. Having commandeered a section of the club’s property and land, they have reciprocated with protection –– and more. One young soldier confesses to a number of “friends” in the club he has pocketed $1500 from their tip-offs.
Fundamentalism and insider information are not the only threats to racing in Iraq.
Punters huddling on a rack of splintering planks squint into the center of a dust-nimbus that obscures the horses. As they round the final bend a roar of anger rises form the crowd. Looma, a five-year-old chestnut and the clear favorite, has fallen several lengths behind, bleeding profusely from the nose.
“Racing in these temperatures can bring on nosebleeds and exhaustion, fortunately it hasn’t been a frequent occurrence,” said Mahmoud
Mahmoud the club’s veterinarian for the past 22 years.
Ostensibly Looma succumbed to the midday heat, but the crowd whispers that the race was sabotaged.
“There are many ways of cheating in the races,” said a wizened regular who refused to be named.
“Sometimes they bribe the jockeys, sometimes they sedate the horses, but if a clear favorite loses, the stewards will demand a report. There are drugs that can be administered to produce bleeding, and this passes unchecked because everyone will assume it is the heat. That is why we are all so angry.”
Frenzied postwar looting has also aided the mafia. Stripped almost bare, only those items hidden by members remain in the club’s possession. The Omega photo-finish camera was one such item; the veterinary laboratory was not.
“Normally we would test the blood of each horse before it races and complete a full report in an incident such as this. Now we rely on experience alone to judge whether the horse has been tampered with,” said Mahmoud.
While the vast majority of owners continue to strive for fair races, the club has a history of partiality. Under the old regime there was draconian policing of illegal bookmakers, but no law to handle Saddam’s relatives. Jockeys and owners conspired to lose when pitted against the Husseins and their retinue, frightened of the repercussions.
One particularly brutal attack lingers in the club’s collective memory. The favorite was narrowly beaten to the finish line despite the best efforts of the jockey. Unfortunately for him, the chairman of the club, Uday Hussein’s uncle Luay Khriella, owned the horse. In a fit of imperatorial pique, he leapt from the observation terrace, whipping the reins from the cowering groom. Twisting them round the jockey’s neck, Khriella dragged him round the track while subjecting him to a savage beating; an example to the crowd. Of what, no one is quite sure.
The legacy of fear is hard to dispel. While most of the remaining members seem glad to hear of Uday’s demise, none will put their name to it.
“I celebrated with the rest of Iraq,” said one.
In a stroke of tragic irony another owner returned to his stables the following morning to find one of his horses dead, slain by a stray bullet fired during the celebration of the former patron’s demise.
Fate has not been so merciful to many of Uday’s own horses. Stocked from the finest bloodlines in the world, his stables were ransacked in the aftermath of the war. There is a rumor that some of the best horses were rounded up by the coalition forces and sold to Saudi Arabia, but there is no evidence to substantiate this claim.
From princes to paupers, the fastest horses in Iraq are no longer regulars of Al-Amiryia circuit, but the slums of Baghdad. Uday’s looted thoroughbreds can be glimpsed straining between the shafts of carts laden with gas cylinders, the eagle emblem of the republic still clearly emblazoned on their rump.
“I have seen some of Uday’s horses. They were in a terrible state, I really wanted to rescue them, but could not do so. People would think that I had stolen them myself,” said one owner.
Horses from the stables of the richest breeders in the world, they will probably end their days tossed among cabbages and paint tins on the rubbish heaps of Baghdad.
The tannoi wheezes a ragged commentary to the hushed crowd. The atmosphere is tense.
Security issues, financial concerns, and a rampant betting mafia blight the once lively atmosphere of the races. A quick glance round the punters squatting in the parched shade leaves an impression of serious moneymaking, not of relaxation or pleasure. Outdoor entertainment has become a liberty few are prepared to take in a city in which lawlessness and random violence leave the public too frightened to abandon their houses for any length of time, particularly if it involves a journey into the outskirts of Baghdad.
“People used to come here after Friday prayers just for fun, without gambling,” said Ali, who was betting small amounts. “Now no one would come for pleasure. We are ashamed to bet. It is against Islam, but it is a way to make money. None of us have jobs any longer.”
The Equestrian Club has already become a target for fundamentalists. Hardline groups have vehemently denounced the club in the press, warning people not to attend under threat of reprisal.
“We wrote back explaining that almost all Islamic countries have racetracks and that the Prophet Mohammed also raced,” said Khalif Alain, the newly elected director of the club.
This did not stop him from arriving at the club last month to find the slogan “Islam prohibits gambling –– do not enter” daubed across the main entrance gate.
US forces patrolling outside add an aura of security, their tanks keeping vigil over the main building. But their protection may only serve to increase the club’s association with the decadent west. Having commandeered a section of the club’s property and land, they have reciprocated with protection –– and more. One young soldier confesses to a number of “friends” in the club he has pocketed $1500 from their tip-offs.
Fundamentalism and insider information are not the only threats to racing in Iraq.
Punters huddling on a rack of splintering planks squint into the center of a dust-nimbus that obscures the horses. As they round the final bend a roar of anger rises form the crowd. Looma, a five-year-old chestnut and the clear favorite, has fallen several lengths behind, bleeding profusely from the nose.
“Racing in these temperatures can bring on nosebleeds and exhaustion, fortunately it hasn’t been a frequent occurrence,” said Mahmoud
Mahmoud the club’s veterinarian for the past 22 years.
Ostensibly Looma succumbed to the midday heat, but the crowd whispers that the race was sabotaged.
“There are many ways of cheating in the races,” said a wizened regular who refused to be named.
“Sometimes they bribe the jockeys, sometimes they sedate the horses, but if a clear favorite loses, the stewards will demand a report. There are drugs that can be administered to produce bleeding, and this passes unchecked because everyone will assume it is the heat. That is why we are all so angry.”
Frenzied postwar looting has also aided the mafia. Stripped almost bare, only those items hidden by members remain in the club’s possession. The Omega photo-finish camera was one such item; the veterinary laboratory was not.
“Normally we would test the blood of each horse before it races and complete a full report in an incident such as this. Now we rely on experience alone to judge whether the horse has been tampered with,” said Mahmoud.
While the vast majority of owners continue to strive for fair races, the club has a history of partiality. Under the old regime there was draconian policing of illegal bookmakers, but no law to handle Saddam’s relatives. Jockeys and owners conspired to lose when pitted against the Husseins and their retinue, frightened of the repercussions.
One particularly brutal attack lingers in the club’s collective memory. The favorite was narrowly beaten to the finish line despite the best efforts of the jockey. Unfortunately for him, the chairman of the club, Uday Hussein’s uncle Luay Khriella, owned the horse. In a fit of imperatorial pique, he leapt from the observation terrace, whipping the reins from the cowering groom. Twisting them round the jockey’s neck, Khriella dragged him round the track while subjecting him to a savage beating; an example to the crowd. Of what, no one is quite sure.
The legacy of fear is hard to dispel. While most of the remaining members seem glad to hear of Uday’s demise, none will put their name to it.
“I celebrated with the rest of Iraq,” said one.
In a stroke of tragic irony another owner returned to his stables the following morning to find one of his horses dead, slain by a stray bullet fired during the celebration of the former patron’s demise.
Fate has not been so merciful to many of Uday’s own horses. Stocked from the finest bloodlines in the world, his stables were ransacked in the aftermath of the war. There is a rumor that some of the best horses were rounded up by the coalition forces and sold to Saudi Arabia, but there is no evidence to substantiate this claim.
From princes to paupers, the fastest horses in Iraq are no longer regulars of Al-Amiryia circuit, but the slums of Baghdad. Uday’s looted thoroughbreds can be glimpsed straining between the shafts of carts laden with gas cylinders, the eagle emblem of the republic still clearly emblazoned on their rump.
“I have seen some of Uday’s horses. They were in a terrible state, I really wanted to rescue them, but could not do so. People would think that I had stolen them myself,” said one owner.
Horses from the stables of the richest breeders in the world, they will probably end their days tossed among cabbages and paint tins on the rubbish heaps of Baghdad.