Along a pitted, broken road off one of the capital’s main highways, past piles of rubbish and a rusted barbed wire fence, stands a grand green sign for the Baghdad Equestrian Club.
Here three times a week are the horse races: a glimpse of a life lived by Iraqis almost untouched by the all-consuming violence of the post-Saddam regime. It is raucous, chaotic, smoke-filled, male-dominated and not infrequently prone to moments of sharp practice. But not a word is spoken about war or politics and religion remains a private affair.
”The situation today has affected all parts of life in Iraq, except the races. Here life is normal,” says Sheikh Juma’a Mohammad Samarrai, a tribal leader from Samarra, an ardent horse breeder and discreet gambler who admits going to the races each week. ”Here there are owners and gamblers and they are away from politics. This place just feels safe.”
Iraq’s first races started in 1920 under British rule and have been held almost every season since, with only the occasional break: a nationalist coup that toppled the monarchy in 1958, the odd war in between and the invasion last spring.
Under Saddam Hussein there was more funding for the course, but at a price. The Arabian ponies owned by his sons Uday and Qusay and his half-brother Barzan al-Tikriti never lost their races.
”Sure, it happened,” says Adnan Jumaili, the club deputy president. ”Today most races are fair but sometimes horses get pulled at the last minute and some gamblers profit.”
There is the official betting system and an informal, cash-in-hand game played in private. On a race day the club expects to make 20-million dinars (£8 000) after payouts.
In the clubhouse, Michael Suleiman is placing his bets. He is a businessman who buys and sells construction equipment, a regular visitor and owner of Sumaiya Yassin, due to run in the third race.
”There are bombs these days, but life must go on. If we were afraid all the time we would sit in our houses and never go out,” he says. ”We love horses more than politics.”
The club, he says, feels little different than before the war; there is new money around and with it comes inducements, bribery and horse-doping. Suleiman (53) stands to win 600 000 dinars if his horse wins, but he is not hopeful.
Many spectators retreat to the television screens inside to escape the midday heat of 50 degrees Celsius. The second race begins and into the lead charges number three, Mahboob Musa’ab. His owner, the portly Khalaf Mohammad al-Duleimi, shrieks with delight, pulls the white keffiyeh off his head and charges outside.
”Come on, Qasim, come on,” he screams at the ageing jockey as he crosses the line, first by a nose.
Duleimi runs on to the track, grabs the jockey, Qasim Daoud, and kisses him on the cheek. The official payout on the winner is about 3-1 but Mr Duleimi put another $2 000 on the black-market bookies and has doubled the bet.
”Last week he came fifth in his race and today he won. I was so sure he would win,” he says. A former jockey, he lives in Baghdad but hails from a family of horse breeders in Haditha, about 200km north. ”Horses have been in my blood since childhood.”
Most of Iraq’s finest horses are bred by the Sunni tribes north of Baghdad, the location of the toughest resistance to occupation.
”It’s true that we are going through a critical time and these events are hurting ordinary people,” Duleimi says. ”We just hope things will improve.”
The third race comes round and Suleiman stands outside, one foot up against the wall as he watches his horse slip down the field.
”Ah, she’s lost. She’s coming in last,” he sighs. He had instructed the jockey to drop back if there was no chance of winning — it allows the horse to enter a slower category next week, where she has a better chance of winning.
Two punters had guessed the first five places, each winning 1,3-million dinars. But Suleiman remains indifferent.
”She’ll do better next week … It’s just a game.” — Guardian Unlimited