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Letter to the editor

No insurance, no lawyers: Iraqis settle crash over tea

Honor and kinship guide three men's dealings.

By SUSAN TAYLOR MARTIN, Times Senior Correspondent
Published July 18, 2007

Passersby examine the a flipped pickup truck at the scene of an accident in Rovia, in northern Iraq. Nobody was seriously injured. Instead of being investigated by police and going to court, or being settled between insurances companies, the cost of the damages was negotiated in the office of the local police chief.
	[Times photo: Susan Taylor Martin]

ADVERTISEMENT [Times photo: Susan Taylor Martin] Those involved in an auto accident in Rovia, northern Iraq, negotiate in the office of the local police chief. The man standing and gesturing is Hamad Amin, the driver of the pickup truck that rolled over twice and was severely damaged.

ROVIA, Iraq -- It could have been tragic. Instead, a three-car smashup became a lesson in how honor, kinship and deft negotiating skills can go far in a land without auto insurance.

On Sunday morning, my driver, interpreter and I were going through this small village when we came to the main road between Irbil and Dohuk, two major cities in northern Iraq. Sami, the driver, inched his Mitsubishi Montero forward, glancing left and right to check for traffic.

Suddenly, a speeding pickup truck grazed our SUV on the left front, swerved into the other lane and caromed off an oncoming car. The pickup flew into the air and somersaulted twice before slamming down on its roof.

For several seconds, I couldn't bear to look. The occupants of the pickup were surely dead, or at least severely injured. But as dozens of villagers rushed up, two men crawled out and brushed themselves off.

An officer checked to make sure no one was badly hurt, then ordered us all to the police station where we were ushered into the office of Chief Basel Ezzat. He gestured for Sami, Avan, the interpreter, and me to sit on a flowered sofa on one side of his desk. The other two drivers settled onto an identical sofa facing us.

One of Ezzat's assistants brought in tea, served in little gold-rimmed glasses. Everyone took a sip, and the discussion began.

"Who wants to complain against whom?" the chief asked.

The other two drivers quickly piped up. Their vehicles had been "totally damaged," they said, and they felt Sami was at fault. He should have to pay.

Sami, in turn, argued that he was barely in the main road and that the pickup was going far too fast to avoid an accident. An animated, often heated discussion continued for many minutes until Chief Ezzat interjected.

There were two options, he said. One, investigators could do a full report and the case would go to court. That could take months and mean that I -- a witness and a foreigner -- could be ordered to stay in Iraq to testify. It could also mean that maybe a judge would not find Sami at fault.

"Maybe it's 100 percent your fault," the chief said, fixing the pickup's driver with a pointed stare.

The driver looked uncomfortable.

Or, Chief Ezzat continued, everyone could sit here and try to work out a solution. More tea was served, and numbers tossed around.

The owner of the '92 Mazda, with a crumpled hood and shattered windshield, agreed to take $400. The pickup's driver thought his '89 truck -- actually his brother's truck -- could be repaired for $1,900. That seemed optimistic given the forlorn state of the Toyota, but auto body shops in poor countries like Iraq are known to work miracles.

Everyone agreed that Sami -- the only one of the three who had a good job and any money -- would pay the $2,300 and cover his own minor repairs, even though he never conceded any fault.

The chief now looked at me. "Are you satisfied with this solution?" he asked. What could I say?

"If they're satisfied, I'm satisfied."

Sami said he would return in a few days with the $2,300, which he planned to get from an ATM in Dohuk. Since I had some money on me -- foreigners usually carry a lot of cash because few places take credit cards -- I said I'd loan Sami the money so he wouldn't have to return.

The two drivers quickly announced that $2,300 wasn't enough to cover their damages. The chief, sensing that they hoped to pry more money out of a "rich" American, jumped out of his chair and angrily told them:

"We have all agreed to this and I am not going back on my word. If you want more money, I will pay you out of my own pocket."

The men looked chastened. It turned out that one of the drivers was related to Chief Ezzat and the other driver was related to one of the chief's assistants. In a village where tribal ties are so important, the men did not want to risk dishonoring themselves and their families by defying a highly respected person like the police chief.

The original agreement was put in writing. The three drivers "signed" first with their inked thumbprints, followed by Avan and me as witnesses. None of the drivers looked totally happy, but they shook hands and kissed one another on the cheek in traditional Iraqi fashion.

No one even got a ticket. Just more tea.

"And please," the chief said as we left, "promise that you will come to my house for lunch the next time you are here."

Susan Taylor Martin can be contacted at susan@sptimes.com.

[Last modified July 18, 2007, 00:01:51]