Italian tortellini pasta, Camembert cheese from France, or Thai oyster sauce: a delicatessen in the heart of sanctions-struck Baghdad sells all of life’s little luxuries, if you can afford them.
”It’s our way of fighting the unjust embargo against our country,” said Ziad Tareq, son of the owner of the Honey Market.
Baghdad has been under international sanctions since President Saddam Hussein sent his troops into Kuwait in August 1990, a painful regime that can only be ended when weapons inspectors declare Iraq free of arms of mass destruction.
But step into the Honey Market and the crippling embargo can be forgotten, however fleetingly. Products from across the globe line the shelves on two floors —
Cuban cigars, mineral waters, and all sort of exotic foodstuffs, but also cosmetics and detergents, anything Iraq fails to make to a high standard. But there are no large stocks.
One section sells only alcohol: 20 brands of whisky, 12 types of gin and as many vodka labels surrounded by an impressive variety of beers, wine and champagne.
”We have three drivers who regularly go to Lebanon, Syria and Jordan to buy what we need, but in sufficiently small quantities to avoid confiscation at the border,” says Tareq, aged 27. Nizar Romani (39) who runs a pharmaceutical company, arrives to pick up a service of 12 coffee cups he ordered. ”We make it a question of honour to get everything our clients request, within four or five days of taking the order,” Tareq explains.
Romani is a regular and besides his order buys French shampoo, American razor blades and toothpaste. ”I come here because I can find everything I need,” says a satisfied Romani.
The price however is prohibitive for the vast majority of a population forced to eke out a living on an average salary of some $20 a month since the collapse of the Iraqi currency.
A dinar fetched $3,80 in 1980. Today a dollar is worth 2 200 dinars. Romani’s shampoo costs six dollars a bottle at the Honey Market as does balsamic vinegar. A bottle of French mineral water is $3,5 a packet of Italian pasta nearly three dollars and biscuits $2,5.
”It’s 20-30% more expensive than in Lebanon,” calculates Mohammad Abu Darwish, standing before the till armed with two loaded baskets. The Lebanese telecommunications technician works occasionally in Iraq and earns foreign currency.
”Of course I feel somewhat ashamed to buy good things when I see people in the streets who cannot afford them, admits Romani. ”That’s why I don’t hang around. I do my shopping and go.”
The shop only accepts dinars, but a sign explains: ”Because of fluctuations in value, we add seven percent to the final bill until the price stabilises.
”We apologise to our customers for the inconvenience.”
The figure seven is written in a small red box, but it too is subject to change along with the value of the dinar, Tareq says.
Foreigners and rich Iraqis fill the delicatessen, but Nashan, who works in an ice cream factory in the northern city of Mosul, walks in with a friend out of curiosity.
He stares goggle-eyed at the mouth-watering delights. ”I came to see what’s new, just to look,” he adds. – Sapa-AFP