Flintstone Village

Saddam Hussein was a sick, evil bastard, but there's no reason that sick, evil bastards can't love their grandkids too. Hitler loved children, or at least that's what the propaganda photos always showed - Hitler shaking hands with little German girls in dirndls and starting a "youth club" for the little boys. How charming.

Hitler's bizzarre mountaintop retreat at Obersaltzburg was kind of an adult fantasyland, complete with strange pagan and medival imagery and castle-like construction. Perhaps the builders took an idea from the not too distant Neuschwanstein Castle, where the Mad King Ludwig of Bavaria had built his astounding fairy-tale fortress which became the inspiration for Disneyland.

It finally occurred to me that that's what this whole palace complex where I live is: a fantasy get-away place for the old Iraqi elites. And like Hitler's cronies, who built a mountaintop dreamland (for a guy who was notoriously afraid of heights), Saddam's cronies built palace after palace to glorify their leader and his triumphs, real or imaginary.


But Saddam didn't want to live the big life all by himself, and built palaces for his sons and friends. He had grandchildren too: precocious little tykes who liked cartoons, sports and games.

He must have thought them charming, suspended in that little naive world of youth - you know that time before they grow up to run rape rooms and torture cells just like daddy and grandpa.

And one thing that these kids really, really liked was "The Flintstones." That's right, the 1990s spinoff movie of the old classic 1960s cartoon. These kids must have devoured the show, because one year, for their birthday or something - it probably wasn't Christmas - Grandpa Saddam told his architects to take time off from building some of his numerous palaces and had them build something entirely different - a perfect replica Flintstone Village.

And so, the architects of the tyrant turned away from their marble columns, monumental arches and intricate mosaics and turned to something totally new. How strange was this building? It was like no government-built building in the entire country - it did not feature either the image or the wise sayings of Saddam Hussein. What? A building in Iraq without Hussein's face or name stamped all over it? What blasphemy!

And so they set about designing the replica building, complete with fanciful cave-like dwellings, odd-shaped windows and terrifying precipices that any normal parent would never conceive of incorporating into what was to become a child's playground.

One can almost imagine the wonder and joy of the children when they first saw their new fantasy land. I could just hear them shrieking and yelling as they bounded up the stairs.


The building is not just eccentric on the outside, it features tons of little caves and maze-like walkways, as well as funny little playrooms:




It must have been quite the playground back in the day, but after four years of neglect, it's now a shell of its former glory. Years of soldiers, contractors and others passing through have left their marks, in ubiquitous graffiti. A touch of Disneyland meets a touch of the Berlin Wall.

















The graffiti shows the wide diversity of people who have passed through. Americans from just about every state. Texans, Californians, and some very proud patriotic Hawaiian who took the time to sketch their unique flag. Certainly a few proud Marylanders must have come through, but they didn't bother trying to do their complex, gaudy flag.



Australians are well-represented, as are troops from El Salvador and other coalition countries. Indians, Pakastanis, Fillipinos and other contractors have all come by to tag this place.


As someone who is averse to graffiti on principle, I nonetheless make exception for symbols of oppression, be they in Baghdad or Berlin. Seeing good ol' American obscenities painted all over this place actually warms me up inside.



It is impressive on its face, but like many places around here, the construction is rather shoddy. In the palace where I work, the beautiful marble is a fake facade. Once the marble panels - about half an inch thick - are removed, the concrete beneath is appallingly-poorly made. In fact, it's not really concrete, but more like adobe. While I'm sure the structural beams are stoutly-built with rebar, elsewhere the only support in this cheap concrete is some kind of chicken wire.



The Flintstone Village is no different. Walking along the walkways here, you see dozens of places where the fake walls have simply caved in, leaving gaping holes that you could easily step into and fall through.


And when I say fall through, we're not talking a little drop to Pebbles' playroom below. How about a 40 foot drop through iron girders and concrete supports to the rancid lake muck? Perhaps we could have disposed of Saddam quicker by simply exporting to him our legal system and then unleashing the tort attorneys.




In other places, whole sections of the wall have fallen through, as if the Flintstones' pet tyrannosaur had come through here smashing and stomping in full Godzilla roid-rage style.


Perhaps this is what happens when Fred doesn't give you your Dino crack.

One only wonders how much damage is a result of the Occupation or perhaps soldiers knocking a chunk of the plaster off for souvernirs. But the advanced deterioration of this less-than-a-decade-old structure is really just par for the course for Saddam Hussein's Iraq. Everywhere I turn, I see this ostensibly oppulent facade is really just rotten through beneath. A kind of Costco version of Versailles.


Right across the lake from this faux attempt at Americana is, ironically, Saddam Hussein's unfinished meglomaniacal masterpiece, the "Victory over America" Palace. Like the builder of Versailles, Saddam Hussein lived in a dream world of his own overblown importance. "L'Etat est moi," he seemed to be saying, and he figured that if you can't beat 'em, build a palace and claim you did anyway.


In the end, Saddam's dementia offered nothing to his country but disaster and gaudy monuments to ego. And years on, that's all that's left. He thought he was a new sun king, but ended up little more than a half-baked Ozymandias.

Perhaps the final statement on Saddam Hussein's Iraq can be summed up with this image. Standing and surveying the wrecked America palace is Staff Sgt. Billy, an Oklahoman on his third tour in Iraq. Sgt. Billy's a simple guy - a hard-working American Indian who does his job and never complains. Humble and good-hearted, he's the antithesis of the egoism reflected in the design of the palace before him. Saddam Hussein thought of himself as one of the greatest conquerors and historic figures of all time, but in the end, he was toppled not by generals or presidents or even high technology.

Saddam Hussein was toppled by an army of Sgt. Billys.