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[casi-analysis] al-Dujail - assasination attempt on Saddam? Does anyone know theearliest accounts?

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I was reading about the capture and arraignment of Saddam Hussein's half brother (and if anyone 
wishes to see the actual physical situation and tight information control that these trials are 
taking place, I would recommend you go to a news imagebank like and do a search on 

He is supposed to have carried out a massacre at a village/small town called Al-Dujail in 1983.  
There doesnt seem much information on the web, the name Al-Dujail hits on a couple of not 
particularly well known human-rights style documents that appear to copy from each other, none 
seeming to date back before 2001.

Does anyone know when the story first appeared (eg Republic of Fear or similiar).  Apparantly there 
is a film released recently which I have not seen, that includes eyewitness testimony that speaks 
of 300 identical cars of which 299 were decoys and 1 carried Saddam Hussein and the villagers 
attacked the wrong one.  Which sounds like some myth making has been in process - although not 
necessarily meaning that there was not a genuine incident at its core.

Of course, possibly we might find that Al-Dujail is actually the birth-place or family affiliated 
with a current Government bigwig - such as was the case with Goreme near Mardin in Kurdistan.

The only other, rather lengthy account, I found was one being distributed on various blogs (a great 
way to introduce ahistorical accounts into discourse), which I will reproduce below from a Firas 
Mahmood Ya'koob.

Actually, I cant put my figure on it but the style seems somewhat reminscent of something.  It 
involves a young idealistic doctor, escapes to medical school, wishes only to help rebuild Iraq, 
sees terrible massacres, his aunt is hideously tortured (mercifully not involving matches).

I guess its just your normal typical story of Iraq under Saddam.

Blog cut and paste follows.

Al-Dujaile is my home town, I always looked at it as god's heaven on earth, it's about 60 
kilometers to the north of Baghdad, on the bank of al Ishaki river (a branch of Tigris), inhabited 
by few thousands, most of whom are farmers, our village is well known by its date palms and grapes, 
a fascinating nature that takes your breath away, its people are related by strong tribal relations 
that keep them as one large family.
- Date: 7/8/1982, Saddam decides to visit the village, the Ba’ath party in the region prepared the 
people to make a big reception, they took us out of the schools(I was 7 years old). They made us 
line in a row on both sides of the road to wave for him and cheer his name. It never occurred to me 
that it would be my last day in the childhood world. I was forced to skip that period of my life 
with such cruelty that I can not explain.
-17 of the finest young men in the village had decided to put an end to the tyrant's life at that 
day, they had the courage to face him, we didn't know about their intention.
The brave men set an ambush among the palm trees, they couldn't tell which car was his, there were 
dozens of cars, all identical in model and color.
-The attack starts, the brave young men open fire from their simple weapons, some of the body 
guards get killed, others wounded, the tyrant get panicked, imagine that (Saddam is afraid) the man 
who enjoyed terrorizing people lives a moment of fear with all its details, he was so close to 
death this time.
8 of the attackers were killed, the rest fled out of the country.
(Woe to the sinners) who dared to make him scared, you should fear his revenge, you should learn 
the lesson so that it won't happen again, you should bow more and more and fear more and more, you 
should be scared to death so that you don't dare even to think of harming him; the shadow of god on 
-The answer was fast, one hour after the escape of the tyrant, we had to face his anger, I heard 
the sound of helicopters over our heads wreaking their vengeance upon our small village, backed 
later with shovels that leveled the trees with the ground, the order was clear(the terror should be 
great) so that the others would learn.
I ran away to my home into my mothers' lap, my younger brother and sisters gathered around me, I 
realized something huge has happened and anticipated the eminent evil. it didn't take long for the 
security to get to our house, we were taken to the unknown, me, my mother(who was 4 months 
pregnant), my sisters Einas(5 years), Zeina(3 years)and my brother Mohammed(1 year).
-The first station in our long journey was Al-Hakimiyah prison that belongs to the intelligence, I 
found hundreds of my village people, old, young, men, women and children, we were 480 there. Out of 
whom 80 were relatives of mine.
It was enough to say the word Hakimiyah for any Iraqi to be completely paralyzed(the one who gets 
in is a missing-the one who gets out is reborn-this was what we used to say about this prison, the 
walls of which tell thousands of horror stories that you refuse to believe.
I was too young to know why we were treated like that, but I sure knew the meaning of being scared 
to death. The sound of foot steps that stops by the door was enough for every one to freeze, as 
after that the door would be opened, a name of one of the men would be announced and he would be 
dragged to the interrogation room to return few hours later unconscious, covered by blood, wrapped 
in a blanket, and would be thrown on us.
The women and children had their share, and this is what saw: extraction of nails and teeth, 
electric shocks, whipping with lashes, using razors to tear the skin into shreds, my aunt was left 
hanging from the roof after her clothes had been wrapped of her in front of her brothers to force 
them to talk. Do you know how much pain we suffered? Can you imagine? I doubt it.
We stayed at Al-Hakimiyah for one month, the space was too small for all of us to sleep, some of us 
had to stay on their feet so that the others could sleep.
-After that we were transferred to Abu-Ghraib prison, where we met the men for the last time, after 
that, the 143 men separated from us and then transferred to another place, as for the rest of us, 
we were kept in Abu-Ghraib prison for six months, during that time, the day for my mother to 
deliver her baby came, she had complications and they didn't take her to the hospital until it was 
too late, the baby died. my mother never if it was a boy or a girl.
In the prison, 4 people died, my grandfather(Yousif Ya'koob), my uncles wife(Noofa Hasan), the old 
man(Abdul Wahab Ja'far) and his wife (Sabreya), after that we were transferred to a camp in the 
desert, near the Iraqi-Saudi borders, 400 kilometers south-west to Baghdad(Leeah camp).
We spent four years there.
Four years in hell, we were isolated from the world, all we could do is stay alive and pray for the 
men whom their destiny was unknown to us.
We were released in 1986, only for another journey of pain and suffering. We had to start a new 
life as all our properties were confiscated and we still don’t know anything about the men.
The other good people in our village helped us, offered us jobs in their lands and a place to stay 
in. I had to work -with my little brother and sisters- to earn our living and to continue with our 
study. Farming is too hard a job for children of our age, but we had already passed that stage.
It’s hard to explain what life is when you're a suspect with the eyes of security agents following 
you, stifling your breath, making your life even harder and harder, we had to give them all the 
pennies we could save to get some information about the missing ones, and they always promised us 
good news, and that our beloved ones were alive and being treated well. we didn't believe that, but 
what is life without hope!?
-Sixteen years later...October/2002. I finished medical school and started to practice my job as a 
doctor in Baghdad. The same year, Saddam suffers a hard time, the USA and the allies tighten the 
circle around him, he decides to set all prisoners free, including the political. That was what he 
said, the fact; he released only the murderers and the thieves.
Our cries lost their way trying to find our relatives among the thousands of faces, each time they 
reassure us that there would be another group to be released the next day, but all our efforts were 
in vain, we had no one but god to pray to and seek his help to show us the way.
Date: 4/9/2003, I can’t believe it, the tyrant falls, is it a dream?
Does it mean no more fear, no more terror, and no more death? We jumped into the streets wreaking 
our vengeance on his pictures and statues that surrounded the village he raped in a dark night.
The towns and villages expelled him and expelled his name……..WE WERE SAVED.
I took a deep breath, the air had the scent of freedom, nothing can be more beautiful, it’s 
difficult to describe, but we were overwhelmed by happiness, with only one distress: where had our 
beloved ones gone?
We started to search the security departments in Baghdad,- like thousands of Iraqis- looking for a 
trace, I didn’t take a long time, we found what we were looking for. The documents of the crime, I 
read with tears in my eyes; the presidency order dated: 7 /23 /1985, signed by the tyrant, ordering 
the execution of 143 men from Al-Dujaile, the youngest one (Najeeb Abd Kadim) 11 years old. Among 
these, 35 were relatives of mine.
God bless your souls martyrs, may you have peace in heaven, if it wasn’t your courage and blood we 
wouldn’t be proud.
This is the story behind these photos, my friend. It’s time they have a decent funeral. We haven’t 
found their remains yet, but they will always remain in our hearts”

My friend surprised me saying” we don’t regret what happened, and yesterday, when the nine 
remaining heroes returned to Iraq, we met them with flowers, as the heroes of all the Iraqis, and 
we will never blame them, as they’re the ones who kept our chins up.”

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