million landmines lie buried like silent soldiers ever alert and ready. Mam-Rasool frowns and his otherwise friendly eyes become narrow as he picks up his prodder and carefully starts working.
here are no short cuts here. As a former battlefield the ground is full of metal and therefore
renders a metal detector obsolete. Sitting on his knees, every inch of earth is painstakingly examined for landmines. Although winter is right around the corner and snow, which makes de-mining impossible, is		  

 

again fled to the mountains on foot with his family carrying his two youngest children in his arms. Mam-Rasool managed to save them from the wrath of Saddam. However, despite the peace Mam-Rasool's battle is not yet over. Now he is fighting against a mightier and much more enduring enemy - landmines.

Northern Iraq is officially still under Saddam Hussein's rule so all equipment must be smuggled in. This greatly complicates the work as larger 'flail machines', that would normally help speed up clearance are impossible to get in.

 

expected later in the day, hurrying the mono-tonous work can be fatal. "Oh, yes, that is im-possible." After an hour on the cold ground Mam-Rasool warms him-self by a makeshift fireplace build of hastily col-lected wood. "I would like to finish here before the snow comes because once it snows, that's it for this season and we can only work


Children make their way past a minefield

"I never stopped being a Peshmerga. We used to fight guerrilla tactics against Saddam's forces, this is not much different.""
 Although the Iraqi soldiers stay behind the front-line, deminers have in the past been targets for Saddam's anger. "Rumour has it that there is a bounty on our heads," says Mam-Rasool and sniffs scorn-fully. "Saddam does not like the work we do here."

"I never stopped being a Peshmerga," he says. His face is full of wrinkles after many

 
  here again next spring. But if you hurry, you may miss one mine and then boooom!" He laughs and waives his arms around. After a short while Mam-Rasool finishes his tea, wipes his nose and heads back to the minefield.

fter deserting the Gulf War where Mam-Rasool had been forced to fight on the Iraqi side,
he made his way home to his wife and children only to find the allied forces turning their backs on the Kurds as they faced yet another onslaught by Saddam Hussein. He 		 

 

years spent in the windy and cold mountains.
"We used to employ guerrilla tactics against Saddam's forces, this is not much different." He runs a hand through his thin grey hair: "Patience is one thing I learned when I fought Saddam. You must have patience as a deminer." He looks down at his large strong hands. "This is my last battle: to clear my country for my children."

The first soft snowflakes fall around Mam-Rasool as he patiently prods every inch of the black soil before him.?