It’s seventh circle of hell hot, you’re stuck in a traffic jam with four million people heading to the same pilgrimage, and Iraq’s version of the Squeegee Man dashes out into the road to wash you down.

Not your windshield. You.

 

But this is Baghdad, not New York or London. It’s 120 degrees, and your only air conditioning is an open window. So instead of closing it you lean out and take a welcome jet of rose-scented water in the face, to refresh you on the way to Karbala for a Shiite festival.

In Iraq the Squeegee Man is a service, not a scam.