Iraqis Dig up COVID-19 Dead to Rebury in Family Graves

For relatives, reburying the body of their loved one and ensuring the proper rites were given has helped provide closure after the sudden death. AFP
For relatives, reburying the body of their loved one and ensuring the proper rites were given has helped provide closure after the sudden death. AFP
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Iraqis Dig up COVID-19 Dead to Rebury in Family Graves

For relatives, reburying the body of their loved one and ensuring the proper rites were given has helped provide closure after the sudden death. AFP
For relatives, reburying the body of their loved one and ensuring the proper rites were given has helped provide closure after the sudden death. AFP

Mohammad al-Bahadli dug into Iraq's hot desert sand with bare hands to reach his father's corpse.

"Now he can finally be with our people, our family, in the old cemetery," 49-year-old Bahadli said, as relatives sobbed over the body, wrapped in a shroud.

After restrictions were eased for the burying of those who died of the novel coronavirus, Iraqis are exhuming the victims to rebury them in their rightful place in family cemeteries.

For months, families of those who died after contracting Covid-19 were barred from taking the body back to bury in family tombs, for fear the corpses could still spread the virus.

Instead, the authorities established a "coronavirus cemetery" in a plot of desert outside the shrine city of Najaf, where volunteers in protective gear carefully buried victims spaced five metres (16 feet) apart, AFP reported.

Only one relative was permitted to attend the speedy burials, which often happened in the middle of the night.

Victims from all religious sects were buried there.

But on September 7, Iraqi authorities announced they would permit those who died after contracting Covid-19 to be relocated to the cemetery of their family's choice.

Many of those buried under the emergency rules came from other parts of the country.

"The first time, he was buried so far away," Bahadli said of his 80-year-old father's funeral rites.

"I'm not sure it was done in the proper religious way."

Iraq has been one of the hardest-hit countries in the Middle East by Covid-19, with more than 280,000 infections and nearly 8,000 deaths.

On September 4, the World Health Organization (WHO) said "the likelihood of transmission when handling human remains is low."

Days later, after pressure from families, Iraqi authorities announced they would permit bodies to be transferred only by "specialized health teams."

But the first re-burials proved chaotic.

At the "coronavirus cemetery" in the desert outside Najaf, hundreds of families began arriving late Thursday to dig up their family member and carry the body home.

They brought their own shovels, baskets to scoop away the sand, and new wooden coffins to carry the dead.

The sounds of fierce sobbing and mourning prayers mixed with the clinks of pickaxes echoed across the sand.

There were no medical professionals or cemetery guides on site to help families locate or properly excavate the bodies, an AFP correspondent said.

In some cases, families dug into a grave site marked with a relative's name, only to find an empty coffin, or to uncover the body of a young man when they were expecting to find the corpse of their elderly mother.

Other bodies were not wrapped in burial shrouds, required by Islam as a sign of respect.

The findings sparked outraged criticism of the state-sponsored armed group that had taken charge of the burials in recent months, with some angry relatives setting fire to the faction's base nearby.

"The grave-diggers don't have expertise or the right materials," said Abdallah Kareem, whose brother Ahmed died of complications from Covid-19.

"They don't even know how to locate the graves," he told AFP while tending to the grave.

Kareem, who comes from some 230 kilometres (140 miles) to the south in Iraq's Muthanna province, opted not to rebury his brother in case it violated religious edicts.

In Islam, the deceased must be buried as soon as possible, usually within 24 hours.

Cremation is strictly prohibited and reburials are virtually unheard of -- although not necessarily outlawed if the body is kept intact, a Najaf cleric told AFP.

Despite the complications, families were nevertheless relieved to have the closure that a traditional burial brought.

"Since my father was buried here, I keep replaying his words in my head before he died: 'My son, try to bury me in the family cemetery, don't let me be too far from my relatives,'" Hussein, another mourner who gave only his first name, told AFP.

The 53-year old dug up his father's body by hand to transfer him to the vast Wadi al-Salam cemetery.

"The dream that had been haunting me for these last few months has been realized," Hussein said.



Damascus’ Mazzeh 86 Neighborhood, Witness of The Two-Assad Era

Members of the Syrian Arab Red Crescent stand near the wreckage of a car after what the Syrian state television said was a "guided missile attack" on the car in the Mazzeh area of Damascus, Syria October 21, 2024. REUTERS/Firas Makdesi
Members of the Syrian Arab Red Crescent stand near the wreckage of a car after what the Syrian state television said was a "guided missile attack" on the car in the Mazzeh area of Damascus, Syria October 21, 2024. REUTERS/Firas Makdesi
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Damascus’ Mazzeh 86 Neighborhood, Witness of The Two-Assad Era

Members of the Syrian Arab Red Crescent stand near the wreckage of a car after what the Syrian state television said was a "guided missile attack" on the car in the Mazzeh area of Damascus, Syria October 21, 2024. REUTERS/Firas Makdesi
Members of the Syrian Arab Red Crescent stand near the wreckage of a car after what the Syrian state television said was a "guided missile attack" on the car in the Mazzeh area of Damascus, Syria October 21, 2024. REUTERS/Firas Makdesi

In the Mazzeh 86 neighborhood, west of the Syrian capital Damascus, the names of many shops, grocery stores, and public squares still serve as a reminder of the era of ousted Syrian President Bashar al-Assad and his late father, Hafez al-Assad.

This is evident in landmarks like the “Al-Hafez Restaurant,” one of the prominent features of this area. Squares such as “Al-Areen,” “Officers,” and “Bride of the Mountain” evoke memories of the buildings surrounding them, which once housed influential officials and high-ranking officers in intelligence and security agencies. These individuals instilled fear in Syrians for five decades until their historic escape on the night of the regime’s collapse last month.

In this neighborhood, the effects of Israeli bombing are clearly visible, as it was targeted multiple times. Meanwhile, its narrow streets and alleys were strewn with military uniforms abandoned by leaders who fled before military operations arrived and liberated the area from their grip on December 8 of last year.

Here, stark contradictions come to light during a tour by Asharq Al-Awsat in a district that, until recently, was largely loyal to the former president. Muaz, a 42-year-old resident of the area, recounts how most officers and security personnel shed their military uniforms and discarded them in the streets on the night of Assad’s escape.

He said: “Many of them brought down their weapons and military ranks in the streets and fled to their hometowns along the Syrian coast.”

Administratively part of Damascus, Mazzeh 86 consists of concrete blocks randomly built between the Mazzeh Western Villas area, the Mazzeh Highway, and the well-known Sheikh Saad commercial district. Its ownership originally belonged to the residents of the Mazzeh area in Damascus. The region was once agricultural land and rocky mountain terrain. The peaks extending toward Mount Qasioun were previously seized by the Ministry of Defense, which instructed security and army personnel to build homes there without requiring property ownership documents.

Suleiman, a 30-year-old shop owner, who sells white meat and chicken, hails from the city of Jableh in the coastal province of Latakia. His father moved to this neighborhood in the 1970s to work as an army assistant.

Suleiman says he hears the sound of gunfire every evening, while General Security patrols roam the streets “searching for remnants of the former regime and wanted individuals who refuse to surrender their weapons. We fear reprisals and just want to live in peace.”

He mentioned that prices before December 8 were exorbitant and beyond the purchasing power of Syrians, with the price of a kilogram of chicken exceeding 60,000 Syrian pounds and a carton of eggs reaching 75,000.

“A single egg was sold for 2,500 pounds, which is far beyond the purchasing power of any employee in the public or private sector,” due to low salaries and the deteriorating living conditions across the country,” Suleiman added.

On the sides of the roads, pictures of the fugitive president and his father, Hafez al-Assad, were torn down, while military vehicles were parked, awaiting instructions.

Maram, 46, who previously worked as a civilian employee in the Ministry of Defense, says she is waiting for the resolution of employment statuses for workers in army institutions. She stated: “So far, there are no instructions regarding our situation. The army forces and security personnel have been given the opportunity for settlement, but there is no talk about us.”

The neighborhood, in its current form, dates back to the 1980s when Rifaat al-Assad, the younger brother of former President Hafez al-Assad, was allowed to construct the “Defense Palace,” which was referred to as “Brigade 86.” Its location is the same area now known as Mazzeh Jabal 86.

The area is divided into two parts: Mazzeh Madrasa (School) and Mazzeh Khazan (Tank). The first takes its name from the first school built and opened in the area, while the second is named after the water tank that supplies the entire Mazzeh region.

Two sources from the Mazzeh Municipality and the Mukhtar’s office estimate the neighborhood’s current population at approximately 200,000, down from over 300,000 before Assad’s fall. Most residents originate from Syria’s coastal regions, followed by those from interior provinces like Homs and Hama. There was also a portion of Kurds who had moved from the Jazira region in northeastern Syria to live there, but most returned to their areas due to the security grip and after the “Crisis Cell” bombing that killed senior security officials in mid-2012.

Along the main street connecting Al-Huda Square to Al-Sahla Pharmacy, torn images of President Hafez al-Assad are visible for the first time in this area in five decades. On balconies and walls, traces of Bashar al-Assad’s posters remain, bearing witness to his 24-year era.