Fwd: Depleted uranium's effects on Iraqi children

From: Trond Andresen (trond.andresen@itk.ntnu.no)
Date: 14-12-01


Fikk denne via ei e-liste, har ikke kilde, men den
er fersk og virker autentisk.

Trond Andresen

_________________

A chamber of horrors so close to the 'Garden of Eden'
In Foreign Parts in Basra, Southern Iraq

Andy Kershaw

01 December 2001

I thought I had a strong stomach -- toughened by the minefields and
foul frontline hospitals of Angola, by the handiwork of the death
squads in Haiti and by the wholesale butchery of Rwanda. But I nearly
lost my breakfast last week at the Basrah Maternity and Children's
Hospital in southern Iraq.

Dr Amer, the hospital's director, had invited me into a room in which
were displayed colour photographs of what, in cold medical language,
are called "congenital anomalies", but what you and I would better
understand as horrific birth deformities. The images of these babies
were head-spinningly grotesque -- and thank God they didn't bring out
the real thing, pickled in formaldehyde. At one point I had to grab
hold of the back of a chair to support my legs.

I won't spare you the details. You should know because -- according to
the Iraqis and in all likelihood the World Health Organisation, which
is soon to publish its findings on the spiralling birth defects in
southern Iraq -- we are responsible for these obscenities.

During the Gulf war, Britain and the United States pounded the city
and its surroundings with 96,000 depleted-uranium shells. The
wretched creatures in the photographs -- for they were scarcely human
? are the result, Dr Amer said.

He guided me past pictures of children born without eyes, without
brains. Another had arrived in the world with only half a head,
nothing above the eyes. Then there was a head with legs, babies
without genitalia, a little girl born with her brain outside her
skull and the whatever-it-was whose eyes were below the level of its
nose.

Then the chair-grabbing moment -- a photograph of what I can only
describe (inadequately) as a pair of buttocks with a face and two
amphibian arms. Mercifully, none of these babies survived for long.

Depleted uranium has an incubation period in humans of five years. In
the four years from 1991 (the end of the Gulf war) until 1994, the
Basrah Maternity Hospital saw 11 congenital anomalies. Last year
there were 221.

Then there is the alarming increase in cases of leukaemia among
Basrah babies lucky enough to have been born with the full complement
of limbs and features in the right place. The hospital treated 15
children with leukaemia in 1993. In 2000 it was 60. By the end of
this year that figure again will be topped. And so it will go on.
Forever.

(Depleted uranium has a half-life of 4.1 billion years. Total
disintegration occurs after 25 billion years, the age of the earth.)

In any other country, in which the vital drugs are available, 95 per
cent of these infant leukaemia cases would be treated successfully.
In Basrah, the figure is 20 per cent. Most heartbreakingly, many
children on the road to recovery go into relapse part way through
treatment when the sporadic and meagre supply of drugs runs out. And
then they die.

By the United Nations' own admission 5,000 Iraqi children die every
month because of a shortage of medicines created by sanctions imposed
by ... the United Nations.

Tony Blair, on numerous occasions, has misled Parliament and the
country (perhaps unwittingly) by saying that Saddam Hussein is free
to buy all the medicines Iraq needs under the oil-for-food programme.
This is not true. Oil for food amounts to just 60 cents (40p) per
Iraqi per day and everything -- food, education, health care and
rebuilding of infrastructure -- has to come out of that. There simply
is not enough to go around.

And has Mr Blair heard of the UN Security Council 661 Committee? If
he has, then he keeps quiet about it. The committee was certainly
unknown to me until I toured the shabby hospitals of Basrah.

This committee, which meets in secret in New York and does not
publish minutes, supervises sanctions on Iraq. President Saddam is
not free to buy Iraq's non-military needs on the world market. The
country's requirements have to be submitted to 661 and, often after
bureaucratic delay, a judgement is handed down on what Iraq can and
cannot buy. I have obtained a copy of recent 661 rulings and some of
the decisions seem daft if not peevish. "Dual use" is the most common
reason to refuse a purchase, meaning the item requested could be put
to military use.

So how does the 661 committee expect Saddam Hussein to wage war with
"beef extract powder and broth"? Does 661 expect him to turn on the
Kurds again by spraying them with "malt extract"? Or to send his
presidential guard back into Kuwait armed to the teeth with
"pencils"? Pencils, you see, according to 661, contain graphite and
therefore could be put to military use. (Tough on the eager
schoolchildren of Basrah who have little with which to write).

Across town at the Basrah Teaching Hospital, the whimsical rulings of
661 are not so comical. Dr Jawad Al-Ali, the director of oncology,
trained in the UK and a member of the Royal College of Physicians,
talked of an "epidemic" of cancers in southern Iraq. "The number of
cancer cases is doubling every year. So is the severity of the
cancers, and there has been a big increase in cancer among the
young," he said.

Last week he was struggling to treat 20 cancer patients with "a huge
shortage of chemotherapy drugs" and just two days supply of morphine.
"We are crippled," he said, "by Committee 661." The doctor applied
for, but was denied, life-saving machinery -- deep X-ray equipment,
blood component separators, even needles for biopsies. All, said 661,
could have military use.

Tell that to Mofidah Sabah, the mother of four-year-old Yahia. The
little boy has both leukaemia in relapse and neuroblastoma, a cancer
behind the eye that has bulged and twisted his left eyeball in its
socket. Ms Sabah travels miles every day to sit and cuddle her son on
his grubby bed. If Yahia lived in Birmingham, his chances of survival
would not be in much doubt. But not in Basrah. "I'm afraid he will
not live very long," Dr Amer whispered.

Ms Sabah said: "I will leave everything to God, but I want God to
revenge those who attacked us." Yahia's illness is not her first
brush with tragedy. She lost 12 members of her family during an
Allied bombing in 1991. Her husband, a soldier, fought in the Gulf
war. He is still in the Iraqi army and has just been reposted, to
Qurna, 50 miles north of Basra and among the contaminated former
battlefields. Qurna, according to legend, was the site of the Garden
of Eden.



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