In the hot Iraqi spring of 1973, I found myself one of thehandful of Westerners ever to set foot in Shiite Islam's holiestshrine, Karbala. With incredible stupidity, I did not realize thatthe mosque, like Mecca, was forbidden to "infidels."
Suddenly, there I stood. Thanks be to all gods that I waswrapped from head to toe in the black "abaya" robe that in this casehid my foreignness. Every once in a while, a few blond hairs wouldsneak out, and I would quickly push them back under the protectivegown.
I would have been in serious danger except for the presence ofthe 300-pound Iraqi police chief sent with me by the government. AsI looked around at the faces of the …
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