April 11th 2003 – The Looters

The City Museum was under siege from a looting crowd. The phone wasn’t working but Malik’s father got the news from his friend and colleague, who’d appeared in a state of breathless panic at their front door. Hakim was galvanised into action. Despite the risks, this was something he had to try and fix. He had to at least attempt to salvage something. Keep some valuables safe from the rabble.

The collections in the Mosul Museum had been integral to Hakim’s life. Studying them as a young boy had awakened a passion within him. And it had resulted in the study period in England that had changed his life. When he’d met Paula, it had been love at first sight. He could barely believe his luck when she agreed to convert to Islam and to live with him in Iraq.

Hakim picked up his coat from the chair and shouted out to Gabir and Hussein. They left the house in a hurried column. From the door, Malik could see them scampering together down the hill. One part of the young boy felt left out at not being asked. But the larger part of him was relieved. He felt certain that to venture out into the lawless city was a huge risk. He was scared for the safety of his father and his brothers.

En route to the museum, Hakim thought how lucky they were that preparations had been made at his workplace for this sort of trouble. Over five thousand of the most easily moved valuables had already been moved to storage in Baghdad. The larger pieces being wrapped in foam rubber to try and protect them.

But when Malik’s father arrived at his workplace, chaos and mayhem were everywhere. Racing through the entrance archway, he pushed his way through the crowd and found the director pleading with people to leave the Museum alone. The director caught sight of Hakim and scurried quickly across to him.

“The worst has happened. The statue of Hatra has already gone. And we’ve lost the bronze bands from the Mamu gates. Baghdad has been hit as well. The director there thinks it’s an international gang. It looks like some of this lot know what to take. Quick! Go and check your floor.”

Hakim bounced down the staircase to his office in the basement. Gabir and Hussein followed right behind him. His job was working at deciphering ancient documents and tablets. It would be marvellous to take the clay slabs he was working on to safety. But they weren’t the easiest of things to move.

Instead he decided on saving the latest documents on which he’d been engaged. Hakim picked up two cardboard boxes from the corner, and gestured to his sons to do likewise. Sporadic gunfire could be heard echoing round the hall upstairs. It looked like it would be too dangerous to return. They’d be lucky to get out unhurt as it was. They’d managed to save six boxes of history. It wasn’t much. But it was better than nothing. The three men hurried up the stairs and out of the Museum’s back exit.