Desert hospitality, honor, and the war outside the door
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But now a second American Bradley has sealed off traffic on the other end of the Najafis' street. The fighters are trapped, and the Najafis reluctantly provide them shelter. Culturally speaking, they have no alternative.
The fighters are surprised to see foreign journalists in the home and take a keen interest us. The Najafi brothers become increasingly tense. If they allow the Mahdi Army fighters to stay, their home may be turned into a base for local fighters. If they ask them to leave, they will be labeled as traitors. Instead, the Najafis turn to us.
"If you want to go stay at a hotel, I can lead you there myself," he says. His face is pained. He is ashamed at turning out a guest. He is too polite to tell us directly to leave, but he has no choice. The Mahdi fighters might take us hostage. Leaving now would leave him with just one problem, rather than two.
We pile into our car, put flak jackets against the door, and prepare to drive off. Revving the engine in anticipation of racing through the intersection, we drive slowly forward until we hear the Bradley machine-gun shower in the intersection in front of us. We slam on the brakes and reverse back to the house.
"That was a coincidence," says one of the Mahdi Army fighters, leaning on the window. "Our fighters opened fire on the Americans and the Americans responded. It won't happen again, inshallah" - God willing.
Our driver is not convinced. He turns off the engine. The fighters debate what to do next. They're eager to return to the shrine. One motorcyclist, carrying a bag of guns on the seat behind him, kick-starts his bike, and races across the intersection. No gunfire.
"You see?" says one of the remaining Mahdi Army fighters. "No problem."
The cyclist is next. He wheels up to the intersection, speeds up, and makes it through. No gunfire.
Now the Najafis have found a white T-shirt and tied it to a stick. Ahmed waves it from the street corner to warn the Americans not to fire. Sameer looks at us. We look at the Mahdi Army fighters. Finally, the two last two fighters climb on the motorbike and drive through the intersection. No gunfire.
Sameer walks over to us smiling. "Please come inside," he says, taking the our bags. Hospitality conundrum over, Shiite generosity returns in spades. "You are our dakheel, our guests," says Ahmed. "Even if we have to defend you, we will. It's our duty."
That night, with American Bradleys and Abrams tanks prowling the Old City, the Najafis relax. It has been a brutal day. One civilian killed, just 50 feet from their home, another 11 injured, and uncounted Mahdi Army fighters killed as well, according to Al Arabiya television.
But most disturbing to these brothers and their assorted neighbors and friends is the fact that they were almost forced to turn away guests. It's a matter of desert honor, of pride, or in this case, shame, that an Iraqi always takes in a guest, "even if it's someone who killed your own brother," says Sameer. Today, he and Ahmed were presented with an impossible choice. Even though it all worked out well, they and their guests know that a line of trust has been crossed, and that trust can never be totally repaired.
Up on the roof, later that night where the Najafis generally sleep in the cool desert breeze, the stars glint and sparkle. "I wish every American could experience a day like this, to see what it's like to live in war," says Ahmed quietly, sadly.
• Editor's note: As Scott, his driver, and his interpreter returned to Baghdad Tuesday, the Associated Press reported that fighting continued, even as an Iraqi delegation arrived in Najaf with a peace proposal aimed at ending the standoff. Aides to Moqtada al-Sadr said they welcomed the mission but not the proposal. "They are asking us to leave Najaf while we are the sons of Najaf," said Sheikh Ali Smeisim, an aide to Mr. Sadr.
