The Americans are trying to build democracy in Iraq. Megan Stackreports from Najaf on some of its shaky foundations.
Nobody seems to remember the new mayor's name. Not in the spice-tinged bazaars of this old stone city, and not in the crowded streets around its revered mosque.
Many have an idea that he was an important army figure when Saddam Hussein was in power. They have a notion that he's not local. Maybe he's all right, they say, but what's his name again?
"I think there's some communication between him and the Americans," ventured a hotel worker named Khalid Kazam.
In fact, it is the Americans who guided Abdul Munem into his improbable role, and he is something of an awkward fit. In a city sacred to Shia Muslims, he is a rival Sunni. In a region where men often tap their chests and announce, "Son of Najaf," he is a native of Basra who moved to town a mere 20 years ago. Among people who fear and loathe Baath uniforms Munem is a former colonel in Saddam's army.
He is unpopular with the clergy who dominate social and civil affairs in Najaf. He isn't well known at street level. But he was in the right place at the right time. A member of an underground organisation called the National Unity Party, he was subverting Saddam just as the United States attacked Iraq.
That was enough to propel Munem into a network of local political stars that, with US money and guns, has gained temporary control of cities and provinces throughout Iraq. Many of the overnight leaders were plucked from the old governments, or from prominent civilian jobs.
Of course, none of the men was elected, and they are vulnerable to the tastes of the United States. Some of the mayors and councils have offices inside rings of razor wire and US soldiers, or even attached to a marines base.
Munem apparently came to US attention when the United States and National Unity joined military forces during the march to Baghdad, although the details are unclear. The mayor says he led a well-timed revolt against the Baath Party regime within Najaf and met the US troops on the battlefield.
"We were planning our uprising from the inside," Munem said. "The Americans flew over in helicopters and saw that we were armed, and sent a convoy to meet us."
Ever since, Munem has been ensconced. He said the people elected him, but when pressed, he acknowledged that he was hired on the consensus of an unnamed group of "educated people, well-known people."
"He was supported by the elders," said Lieut Col Chris Conlin, the marine commander who calls himself "the military mayor" of Najaf.
Downtown, around the massive shrine to Imam Ali, the mayor is a figure of some scorn.
"He is not elected," said Mohamad Rodha al-Salami, a spokesman for the powerful Supreme Council of Islamic Revolution. "It's obvious to all of us here that he was put in by the Americans. He's pretending to represent the popular will."
Munem hasn't fought since he lost a foot in the 1980s war with Iran, a conflict that was bitterly resented by many of Iraq's southern Shia, who regard Iranians as their brethren.
"[The injury\] gave me the chance for secret political work," Munem said. "I was able to move around using my military uniform."
These days the mayor is easy to spot; he's just about the only man in Najaf sporting a Western suit and tie. He works far from the city centre, in a bright, sterile office in a remote medical college taken over by the marines.
Najaf's former mayor disappeared as US soldiers bore down on the city, and Munem doesn't have much to say about the old regime. "We're starting fresh," he said.
This week the shining corridor to Munem's office was crammed full of burly policemen wielding Kalashnikovs. There were guns and money for the new police force. In a side room, an aide handed out salaries.
Every day there is a crisis. The mayor is struggling to get the utilities running, to tame lawlessness and to calm public despair as widespread unemployment drags on.
The fledgling administration is unperturbed.
"It's a sign of democracy," said the deputy mayor, Hussein Ali Elasal, "when people come and say they're dissatisfied."
- (Los Angeles Times)