La corruption institutionalisée

Ghaith Abdul-Ahad

The majority of the Iraqi community in Amman congregates in the bustling markets and sewage-filled streets of downtown ; eating in Iraqi restaurants, seeking work or selling faked Iraqi antiquities, smuggled cigarettes and old currency with pictures of Saddam on it to nostalgic pan-Arabs.

Yesterday, in the middle of one such market, stood six buses, five of them plastered with posters of the former Iraqi prime minister Ayad Allawi. At first I thought they were advertising the Iraqi elections ; after all, billboards featuring Iraqi politicians are now competing with those of McDonald’s or KFC in the Jordanian capital, host to one of the world’s biggest Iraqi expatriate communities.
With a dark blue background, Allawi’s posters are a bit sinister. He has two postures : one is serious, with a frown like someone holding his breath. The other looks like the cover to a Sopranos DVD, Allawi - as fat and chubby as Tony - wincing and giving off a foxy smile.

As I stood next to the buses, slightly puzzled, a kid came up to me and asked : « Do you want to vote ? »

« Yes, maybe, » I replied, voting in the elections having started a day earlier outside Iraq. « Why ? »
« Don’t accept less than 10 Jordanian dinars. Yesterday they paid us five. »

At that moment I realised the entire crowd around me was bartering their votes. An old woman was demanding an extra 10JD for bringing her sister a nd husband. A man with a brown suit and a moustache appeared to be running the show - he had two mobile phones in his hands, talking and hurling people into different buses.

The man with the suit shouted at one driver to head to the polling station at Wihdat, and as people sheepishly climbed into the bus, I followed. The old woman and her relatives came, too.

As the bus bumped along, the only discussion was about how much we would get. What if they only got five dinars like the poor people yesterday ?

« My brother said if they don’t pay me $50, I shouldn’t vote, » one woman said. Another replied : « Even five is good - we can buy potatoes for a week. »

After 15 minutes’ driving, we reached the polling station. The bus parked at the end of the street less than 10m from the Jordanian police securing the station. There we were given the good news : today’s price was to be 20JD.

Asked to si t in the bus and wait, we were approached by a long-haired kid who gave us each a blue and green leaflet with Allawi’s smiling, wincing face on one side and on the other his manifesto. « Integrity and fighting corruption, » read one of his pledges. « Keep these papers and hand them back when you come out, » said the kid. « Make sure you get your money as you cast your vote. »

An announcement was made that a 1JD commission would be taken from our 20JDs, and a fight nearly broke out. But soon, everything was sorted out and the 18 Iraqis on the bus went off to participate in Iraq’s new democracy.

Outside the station people showed their purple fingers and their Allawi receipts. The organisers handed out the money as fast as possible before driving away to bring a new group of voters. The long-haired kid told me we were the 12th group that day.
A few minutes afterwards, the old woman and her family emerged to find no one outside. They waited for 20 minutes, but no one showed up. « And they talk about democracy, » said the woman. « What democracy - they didn’t pay us our money ! »