Bent double with age and effort, another creased and toothless face smiles up at us as we wander through the remains of crumbling and smoke blackened buildings inside the Tuwaitha nuclear facility .
Two elderly women, old before their time, carrying bags in one hand and pick axes in the other were rifling through the wreckage, picking out items for which I could seen no earthly, but clearly are of value to them.
My perception of the value can only be measured in the risk they take, not the intrinsic merit of the pieces. The risk now is not only from the possibility that they fall upon a radiation source like those we have already found, but also the turf wars that are springing up in this desolate place.
We have been going to this part of the site for the past two days, looking for the Al Shakili site - described as one of the four most important nuclear storage sites in Iraq. Frankly it's pretty hard to tell if we have found it or not - now every building looks the same - gutted and fired and virtually empty. We wanted to confirm it too had been completely looted - gotta reckon which ever building it was, the answer was the same. On the first day we were driven out of the site as two gangs began shooting at each other, fighting over the last scraps of a metal shell. we went back later when it seemed quiet and within a minute or two, men, young and old appeared from every angle. Some where smiling, but when one began to advance more rapidly, winding a scarf across his face as he strode, I called time out on our survey. We were in the car and out of there pretty damn quick.
This morning we thought we would steal a march on the gangs and so set out early. It was a fine plan, apart from the realisation that many people have now set up home in the ruins. So we were not alone, but at least this time they were friendly. That is when we met our two elderly ladies.
They let Mo and Phillip document them for a time, but after a few short minutes I couldn't tell the difference between the sharp cracks of pickaxe on metal sheeting and the sharp cracks of gun fire. Time out guys!
From that desolate place to another - the main hospital for the Tuwaitha area. we have visited before, but I wanted to interview the manager. We wanted to document the depressing struggle he is facing. Mo hates hospitals and this place was not about to disappoint in terms of dislike. It was what I have come to expect to see - a pitifully under resourced place, populated with good people trying to make it just that little bit better - against all of the odds. The machinery doesn't work, the staff are overworked and the resources are non existent.
The doctor told us he is treating a lot of people who get caught up in the turf wars we witnessed at Tuwaitha facility. In the corridor outside his office we were accosted by two young men, both shambling along the corridor with a much more aged gait than men in their twenties should have, both trailing foul looking blood transfusion bags over their arm. One began to gesture - I'm not sure if he was asking for blood from us, or just wanted us to really see his problem. It was pretty revolting. Countless other patients stared and plucked at my sleeve as we made our way down the paint faded corridors and into the hospital managers sparse office.
We spoke for a short while. He did not need long to explain that he knows and fears what may be coming for the people here in the coming weeks and years. He told us there has been a notable increase in bone, blood and bowel cancers in the south of Iraq since 1991. He also told me directly that he has seen a notable increase in symptoms that could be radiation poisoning - but he can't tell because he doesn't have the equipment or staff to analyse the results. He is a doctor, he has chosen a profession that cares for people, fixes them up after a gun fight, treats their illnesses and he can't even take the first steps with the many "future victims" that are presenting themselves. A bloody mess.
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