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Like most of Iraqi Kurdistan, Halabja was in perpetual revolt against the regime of Saddam Hussein, and its inhabitants were supporters of the , the Kurdish fighters whose name means “those who face death.”A young woman named Nasreen Abdel Qadir Muhammad was outside her family’s house, preparing food, when she saw the helicopter.The Iranians and the had just attacked Iraqi military outposts around Halabja, forcing Saddam’s soldiers to retreat.We didn’t know why it was so quiet.”A short distance away, in a neighborhood still called the Julakan, or Jewish quarter, even though Halabja’s Jews left for Israel in the nineteen-fifties, a middle-aged man named Muhammad came up from his own cellar and saw an unusual sight: “A helicopter had come back to the town, and the soldiers were throwing white pieces of paper out the side.” In retrospect, he understood that they were measuring wind speed and direction.

Iranian Revolutionary Guards then infiltrated the city, and the residents assumed that an Iraqi counterattack was imminent. One had a regular camera, and the other held what looked like a video camera. Then they went away.”Nasreen thought that the sight was strange, but she was preoccupied with lunch; she and her sister Rangeen were preparing rice, bread, and beans for the thirty or forty relatives who were taking shelter in the cellar. Nasreen was just sixteen, but her father had married her off several months earlier, to a cousin, a thirty-year-old physician’s assistant named Bakhtiar Abdul Aziz.

Nasreen and her family expected to spend yet another day in their cellar, which was crude and dark but solid enough to withstand artillery shelling, and even napalm.”At about ten o’clock, maybe closer to ten-thirty, I saw the helicopter,” Nasreen told me. Halabja is a conservative place, and many more women wear the veil than in the more cosmopolitan Kurdish cities to the northwest and the Arab cities to the south. The Iraqi Army, positioned on the main road from the nearby town of Sayid Sadiq, fired artillery shells into Halabja, and the Air Force began dropping what is thought to have been napalm on the town, especially the northern area. Nasreen prayed that Bakhtiar, who was then outside the city, would find shelter.

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“We wanted to stay in hiding, even though we were getting sick,” Nasreen said. “My uncle said we should go outside,” Nasreen said. We were getting red eyes, and some of us had liquid coming out of them.

She felt a sharp pain in her eyes, like stabbing needles. We decided to run.” Nasreen and her relatives stepped outside gingerly. “It was breathing very fast, as if it had been running.

Nasreen’s husband could not be found, and she began to think that all was lost. There was shouting and crying in the cellar, and then people became short of breath.” One of the first to be stricken by the gas was Muhammad’s brother Salah. March 16th was supposed to be Muhammad’s wedding day. His fiancée, a woman named Bahar Jamal, was among the first in the cellar to die. Hamida thought that the baby wouldn’t breathe in the gas if she was nursing, Muhammad said, adding, “The baby’s name was Dashneh. Nasreen said that on the road to Anab all was confusion. “But we didn’t stay in the mosque, because we Bakhtiar, Nasreen’s husband, was frantic. They couldn’t control their muscles.”Bakhtiar still had one syringe of atropine, but he did not inject his wife; she was not the worst off in the group.

She led the children who were able to walk up the road. She and the children were running toward the hills, but they were going blind. Outside the city when the attacks started, he had spent much of the day searching for his wife and the rest of his family. When I got there, I found that Nasreen was alive but blind. “There was a woman named Asme, who was my neighbor,” Bakhtiar recalled. She was yelling and she was running into a wall, crashing her head into a wall. I asked my husband about my mother, but he said he didn’t know anything. He was avoiding the question.”The Iranian Red Crescent Society, the equivalent of the Red Cross, began compiling books of photographs, pictures of the dead in Halabja.

Awat Omer was trapped in his cellar with his family; he said that his brother began laughing uncontrollably and then stripped off his clothes, and soon afterward he died. Her father tried to help her, but it was too late.”Death came quickly to others as well. Nasreen and several of her cousins and siblings inadvertently led the younger children in a circle, back into the city.

As night fell, the family’s children grew sicker—too sick to move. He was so thirsty he was demanding water.” Others in the basement began suffering tremors. I told her it was just the usual artillery shells, but it didn’t smell the usual way weapons smelled. A woman named Hamida Mahmoud tried to save her two-year-old daughter by allowing her to nurse from her breast. But she kept nursing.” By the time Muhammad decided to go outside, most of the people in the basement were unconscious; many were dead, including his parents and three of his siblings. Someone—she doesn’t know who—led them away from the city again and up a hill, to a small mosque, where they sought shelter.

She doesn’t seek pity; she would, however, like a doctor to help her with a cough that she’s had ever since the attack, fourteen years ago.

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