
Rashid Wali, an Iraqi working for Al Jazeera, was killed in Kerbala five years ago 
Al  Jazeera's Laith Mushtaq was one of the few unembedded cameramen working in 
  
  I want to introduce you to my friend Rashid. Rashid Wali. He was the man of Al  Jazeera's 
  
  Often, I'd smile just from watching him. He used to carry this huge  ashtray around. He was smoking all the time. Whenever the reporter went to pee,  he would start smoking. During the war, we spent every day together. In his car, we were travelling through  
  
  We had lots of CDs in the car and sometimes we would sing along. Most of the  time, we listened to southern Iraqi music. Lots of sad love songs. Sometimes  the reporters asked us to play happier music, but that was difficult. A layer of sadness covered the country; people were grieving, smoke rose everywhere,  cars and tanks lay burned on the side of the road. So Rashid played the  kind of music that went with it. He chose the soundtrack of the war.
  
  Rashid was from southern 
  
  I turned my face to his face and I suddenly felt this power inside me because,  for the first time, I felt that somebody believed in me as a cameraman. The  only person who said "you will be good" - that was Rashid. From that time on, until today, when I am nervous about a job, I think of him.  And when I do a good job, I thank him for trusting me before anyone else did.
  
  
  
  A couple of weeks after the first battle of Fallujah, there was a lot of fighting  between the Americans and the al-Mahdi Army in 
  
I can guess what's coming next from the sound of a missile, an RPG, or an  AK-47 being used. From May 20 to the following day, I could hear  tanks moving closer to the main mosque, where the al-Mahdi Army was hiding. My  colleagues were in the lobby watching a football game, I went downstairs and  said: "Hey, I think something big is going to happen."
Al Jazeera cameraman Laith Mushtaq attended Rashid's funeral in Baghdad 
  
  They followed me on the roof. I changed the iris on the camera, because it  was night and we needed to get the best quality. I recorded as  Rashid stood beside me. I was the only one wearing a bullet-proof jacket and so I said: "Please go  down. Leave me alone, I'll take the pictures."
  
  I was hiding behind a small wall but when the others left, Rashid was still  there. I said: "Please, Rashid, go down." He stayed. Then I screamed:  "Go down. Hide." He said: "No, I will never leave you alone." And he put his hand on  my shoulder. The next moment, I saw bullets flying towards us. You can see  bullets because they glow in the dark.
  
  A second later, the wall falls down. I fall, try to hold the camera and  see Rashid falling as well. I couldn't move. There was only one metre between  me and him, but I couldn't move. I felt his hand leave my shoulder as he  fell, but I thought he was just trying to hide somewhere. Then I got hold of  his leg; I touched him and shouted his name. No reaction.
  
  Then louder: Rashid! Rashid! He didn't answer. I couldn't see much, it was so  dark. I touched his hand. Then I saw that three bullets had hit his head.
  
  'River of blood'
  
  There was a river of blood. I screamed, because all the others were  downstairs. I screamed: "Rashid is killed." I took a shot of him with  my camera.
  
  Some people ask: "How can you film the dead body of your friend?" I  say that I wanted the world to know what had happened. And I didn't know  what else to do.
  
  I think I also wanted to say: "Rashid, tell me this is not true, you said  you'd never leave me alone." We couldn't take his body from the roof,  because we would have been caught in the crossfire. From midnight, until six in  the morning, Rashid was up there. We hid downstairs while the fighting  continued.
  
  We called the 
  
  A couple of hours later the fighting calmed down a bit and we called the  hospital to get an ambulance. Four times the driver tried to get to us, but  four times the ambulance couldn't get through. When they finally managed, we  took Rashid to hospital and finished the death papers there.
  
  I took Rashid's car keys and put his body on the roof of his car. It takes a  little over two hours to drive from 
  
  So, in his own car, I took his body back to 
  
  But on that day, there was no CD to change. That day, I stopped listening to  southern Iraqi love songs. 
Interview  compiled by Stephanie Doetzer- Laith  Mushtaq is from 
Source: http://english.aljazeera.net/focus/2009/05/20095209391724555.html
Posted via web from Pulse Poll
 
 

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