On a blistering day in July, Zahim Jehad was fossicking around a scrap yard in Basra amid hundreds of live artillery shells.
After photographing rusting rounds he took the pictures to Iraq's environment ministry, buoyed by hope he could once again start transforming the lethal relics into sculptures.
Six months ago, Jehad's Baghdad office had brimmed with such creations: fish made out of guns, sail boats fashioned from daggers and mortars, and insects crafted from broken-down weapons of war confiscated by U.S. troops. He hired fine-arts students and eventually took on a conga line of handicapped youths to help turn poignant instruments of terror into Iraq's most creative cottage industry. The artwork was then auctioned to fund charities for the handicapped.
The charge
That was until the bureaucrats stepped in. “They complained against me in the court,” Jehad says ruefully from his office, which is also the national headquarters of the Iraqi Mine Clearance Organisation. “They said I was destroying the weaponry of the old Iraqi army. But these were weapons that were taken by the American army from the terrorists, as well as other devices of execution, like knives and swords.
“Because of the intervention from the defence ministry, things stopped just as they were getting started. They said we had destroyed 10,000 weapons at the cost of $100 each. It was all a lie.” Officials took Jehad to court earlier this year; he was found not guilty of any crime and sent on his way. Ever since, he has been trying to get permission to resume his business.
The sculptures that remain jut starkly from whitewashed showcases like ghoulish transformer toys. Look hard enough and you can see Kalashnikov muzzles forming the flank of a giant fish.
Anyone with a broader knowledge of weaponry would see spouts from mortars in the body of a lower limb, shaped also by firing pins and knife handles.
Spiders are a favourite, and easily put together by springs and parts of rockets, while the hulking Man of War seems to have a part from every small weapon imaginable. “We sold around 350 pieces,” says Zahim. “And we will sell more again. The trouble is that Iraqis don't yet understand NGOs. But when I went to the authorities two weeks ago, I said I could not only deactivate these weapons, but make them into art. They were interested, but we haven't had a response from them — yet.” — © Guardian Newspapers Limited, 2010
