Karim El-Gawhary in Baghdad talks to Saddam Hussein's former physician, who later became the victim of the darker sides of his patient A disturbing self-portrait of Iraqi orthopaedist and artist, Dr Ibrahim Abdel-Sattar Al-Basri hangs on the wall of his clinic in Baghdad. The painting depicts the subject seated on a chair, looking angry. His right hand holds a glass of Cognac, the glass cracked under pressure of this fist, the left hand balled into a blood-drained fist. It is the artistic expression of a rare man, one of the few to have been catapulted to the height of power by Saddam Hussein, later only to experience -- and survive -- the darker facets of his dictatorship. Dr Al-Basri served Saddam Hussein as personal physician and fitness advisor for more than a decade, before falling out of favour and disappearing for 12 dark years. The living area of the doctor -- a place he rarely leaves -- stretches out behind his clinic and houses a chaotic mix of styles; late 1970s Western furniture, a bar containing half-empty bottles of whiskey, Cognac and Arak, several African drums propped in front of the counter. Eastern symbols adorn the walls of this home -- inner strength, equilibrium -- indicating a man seeking inner peace, a man haunted by his past. He was never broken by the regime of Saddam Hussein, he emphasises. "They can only break a man who is ready to be broken," he explains, continuing with, "I am very strict with my sons, because I want them to become real men." This seems to mirror the view of his former client, whose favourite topic during the exercise sessions was his courage and manhood and his effect on women, said Al-Basri. A note of pride enters his voice as he relates that, "an employee of Saddam was considered a king by the people, and I was his doctor. I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy this aspect." The first time he met Saddam was during the interview for the position of personal physician. Five orthopaedists were invited to attend and Saddam himself was present. Dr Al-Basri was the last in line. They showed him some x-rays and asked for his diagnosis. "I told Saddam to get undressed so I could examine him; everybody stared at me in disbelief," he remembers. He explained to them that he had studied in Germany for 15 years, where he had done his PhD, and later became a professor, and where he was taught never to make a diagnosis without first thoroughly examining the patient. To the surprise of everyone, Saddam agreed. After examining the patient, Al-Basri recommended injecting Saddam's spine to treat his back problem, a procedure the others in the room regarded as too risky. When asked if he could guarantee no side effects, he replied, "I am a doctor and cannot guarantee anything, except that I will do my best." Saddam was impressed and Doctor Al- Basri was hired on the spot. Dr Al-Basri later came to know the a darker sides of Saddam's nature, like the time when a man that had fallen out of the leader's favour was thrown into a cage of hungry Dobermann dogs that had not been fed for a week. Saddam calmly smoked his cigar while the animals tore him to pieces. The best way to describe Saddam is as a "Mafia Godfather", he said, as "somebody, who could give and forgive generously in the one breath, and deliver your death sentence in the next -- like a god." Saddam was able to rely on the unconditional obedience of his people. He selected the illiterate and poor of his clan and placed them in high positions within the security service, giving them a villa and car, and ensuring himself of their total loyalty. They were nothing without him, describes the doctor, summing up the system in one sentence, "he was breeding them like in a pig farm". The reaction of the dictator was always unpredictable. Al-Basri tells the story of a time when somebody came into Saddam to report about a drunken officer of the Republican Guard who was shooting up a restaurant in Baghdad's famous Abu Naws Street. Saddam replied without hesitation, "kill him". When a report came back an hour later that it was impossible to get close to the offender, Saddam changed his mind, issuing orders for the man to be allowed free and to degrade every police officer involved in the operation. Al-Basri's courage, it seems, impressed Saddam. He spoke to the dictator in a normal way, when others remained formal while addressing "His Excellency". "Saddam respected courage and even some confrontational words, but he took stock of everything, weighing up what could be dangerous for him," said Al-Basri, describing Saddam's policies, the very same policies which were to lead to Al-Basri's downfall. Saddam must have felt his physician was becoming overly critical. The doctor had begun to paint in secret, pictures like the one undertaken in 1990 shortly before his arrest, which can now be displayed openly for the first time. It shows the map of Iraq littered with sculls; in front, the laughing skeleton of Saddam riding a white stallion. "The horse is rebelling and trying to resist with a suffocating whinny," is how the artist describes his picture, mentioning that the skeleton was painted using real x-rays of Saddam. Al-Basri relates how he later became less careful about remaining politically correct, referring to an incident where he was asked to become a member of the Iraqi Parliament. He refused this request, saying he did not want to be part of a puppet theatre. This incident, coupled with others which the artist/physician is reluctant to reveal, eventually led to his arrest. He was taken initially to the infamous "Hakimiya" torture facility in downtown Baghdad, a place to which he is unwilling to return. We go, instead, with a former prison inmate, Zaid As- Saffar, who took me on a tour through the cell. In cells measuring 3x3 metres he was incarcerated with half a dozen others for six months. Red walls, no window, sand floor and a tiny bulb as the only source of light -- the tools used to break the inmates' spirits. Once a week, for 10 minutes, As-Saffar was permitted to go onto the roof to see daylight. "I cursed God that he had brought me here," he says, standing in the middle of his old cell. What As-Saffar did not know back then is that Dr Basri, who was only a few metres down the corridor in cell number 22, never left his cell; he was kept in solitary confinement for three years. photo: Jure Erzen It is a miracle that Al-Basri survived this ordeal, both physically and mentally. His legs had been broken twice by beatings inflicted by the guards, his ears and legs had been subject to electric shock treatment, and later on his wife and son were also imprisoned for two months to further wear his spirit. He was often transferred to other prisons, the worst being a jail run by the intelligence service in Baghdad's Mansour district. Every day the guard appeared and clapped his hand slowly 10 times, during which time the prisoners could choose either to wash themselves or use the toilet. Al-Basri also recounts many other stories of happenings in Saddam's "dungeons", like the "coffin method". A prisoner would be drugged, and upon waking would find himself inside a coffin, listening to the guards chatting about his impending burial, pretending not to hear the desperate screams of the prisoner ostensibly about to be buried alive. On opening the coffin later, the prisoner would be a wreck. Another form of amusement known as Al Hafla -- the Party -- in which brothers and sisters were tied together and forced to have sexual intercourse in front of the guards. During his 12 years in prison, Dr Al-Basri created his own survival strategy. "You have to sacrifice your body to keep your soul", is how he summarises it. Meditation, self-hypnosis, reciting poems and counting lice helped him to get through his ordeal. He even made a small carpet out of tiny coloured stones, which he now keeps at home. "God is the guardian of your fate," is the text framed in the mosaic carpet. Dr Al-Basri was finally released eight months ago. Six months later the 61-year-old witnessed the downfall of his former patient. The godfather is without power. Al-Basri is now head of a fledgling party, the "Democratic Alliance". Right now he has no ambitions to take part in the struggle for power in the new Iraq. "This time is only for the opportunists," he says. The Americans, he believes, do not know what they are doing in Iraq and it would be a fatal mistake if they stayed for the long haul. As yet he has no real political programme, and there are only three points on the political agenda of which he is certain. First: nowhere in any public place should a picture of the president be hung. Second: no writer or poet should ever sing songs in praise of the leader. Third: nobody in Iraq should ever again feel obliged to clap his hands in applause after the president has spoken.
