'I woke every day to the sound of torture'

ADNAN always wanted to be a doctor. Stirring his cappuccino in a fashionable Newcastle caf a world away from his homeland, he recalls his determination to study medicine. "I come from a big family and everyone went to university. My parents did, and I have a sister who is also a doctor," he says.

Now Adnan's a senior house officer at a North-East hospital and it's difficult to connect this confident, smiling young professional with terrible happenings in the Middle East. He recently became the first asylum-seeking doctor to obtain a full-time position in the region's health service.

The son of affluent middle-class parents, his family lived comfortably in the Iraqi capital of Baghdad. Until Iraq's disastrous invasion of Kuwait - which led to the humiliation of the 1991 Gulf War - Adnan says most people were proud to be Iraqis. But after the war, there was widespread disillusion with the regime and an increasing crackdown against any dissidents. "The media in Iraq were all saying we had won a great victory, but nobody believed them," says Adnan

Despite the war, Adnan was able to take up his place at Baghdad University medical school. But he soon got involved in student politics, attracting unwelcome attention from Saddam Hussein's army of spies and agents. "I began to speak out and was warned about my behaviour," he recalls.

In his final year, Adnan got involved in student elections. Unfortunately, the group he was supporting was standing against a nephew of Saddam Hussein. They managed to claim nine out of 40 places on the student council, but Hussein's relative was not amused.

"He stood up and said 'do you know who you are opposing'? That same day they took two of the elected members away. They just disappeared," says Adnan, now 28.

Within a few weeks, eight out of nine of the elected members were unseated. Some were interrogated and some went "behind the sun" - to use an Iraqi phrase - and vanished into the prison system.

Adnan was interrogated by Saddam's relative who asked him to testify against the student leaders. The young student was told that if he did not co-operate, he would not be allowed to graduate from medical school. "I was in my final year. Everything was put at risk," Adnan recalls.

Bizarrely, nothing happened and, after six months, a relieved Adlan resumed his studies and graduated. Eight months later - sometime in 1998 - Adnan was doing a training stint at an elite Baghdad hospital used by many of Saddam's family and supporters. "I was doing my evening rounds and I called in to see a young woman patient. One of the visitors was the same man who had threatened me - and he recognised me," says Adnan.

When Adnan asked everyone to leave the room while he examined the patient, Saddam's nephew flew into a rage, claiming that he had been insulted. "He began to shout at me and threaten me and then he slapped my face," Adnan says. "For an ignorant criminal to strike a doctor like that was terrible. I began to hate the system," he says.

He was grabbed by the nephew's guards and marched off to the hospital's security room where they beat Adnan until he lost consciousness. He woke up in the feared Abu-Ghurab Prison, where many of Saddam's opponents are held without charge.

"It is a place I will never forget. It is a very strong place, built by the British you know," he smiles, wryly. He recognised some of the other inmates, including a former minister who had fallen from grace and a few generals.

"I have always hated violence. I have never hurt anyone in my life," says Adnan. But here violence was ever-present. "We were woken every day by the sound of people being tortured." Unshaven, filthy and constantly in fear of beatings or torture, Adnan watched as the prison guards went about their daily routine. He was tortured three times - although he won't talk about the injuries he sustained. "The guards enjoyed their job," he says simply.

On the visit of a United Nations team which was monitoring prison conditions, one of the prisoners spoke out about the torture. Terrible retribution was taken.

Because no one would own up, everyone in that particular section - Adnan estimates there were more than 70 - was herded together and forced into a single small cell. "It reached the stage where there was no space so they threw them on top," says Adnan. Deprived of food, water, air and light, the prisoners were left for three days. When the door was opened, most of them were dead. The rest were hospitalised. Some had gone mad.

Adnan feared he would never get out of prison but, behind the scenes, his family were pulling strings. "As in any corrupt regime, you can buy your way out. I would have had no chance if I had been from a poor family," says Adnan, who was ecstatic when he was told he was being bailed and sent home for six months.

'We realised that I had to leave Iraq. My first choice was Australia but it was very difficult to go there. As an English speaker, my second choice was easy." Despite being the former colonial power in Iraq, Adnan says there is still a lot of affection for Britain. "There is a huge respect in Iraq for England. We believe that British democracy is true," he says.

After negotiations with his smugglers, which ended in his family handing over a huge sum of money, his epic journey to Britain began. He travelled through Northern Iraq and into Turkey and then via several safe houses in Eastern Europe. In June 1999, he arrived at Heathrow airport, clutching an Iraqi ID card and $300 in cash.

Looking back, Adnan can hardly believe how smoothly everything went. As soon as he mentioned "asylum" he was taken care of, found a hostel in London and put in touch with a voluntary group which assists refugees. The immigration service registered his application for asylum and he was offered a limited choice of cities outside of London.

"They said Newcastle was in the far north. Coming from a very hot country, I quite fancied the cold," Adnan recalls. The fact that Newcastle also has a good medical school was the clinching factor.

The North of England Refugee Service found him a basic flat and helped him settle in. Before very long he was studying again. "I was studying 60 hours a week and going to any free English lessons I could find," he says.

While his asylum application was being processed, Adnan passed the medical exam which allowed him to practise in the UK. After short-term contracts in the North-East, he has now been offered a three-year contract which will allow him to work at several hospitals in the region as a senior house officer.

"Whenever I work in accident and emergency, there is always pressure but I keep smiling. People ask me what am I smiling at," says Adnan. "After what happened I am very positive towards life and I want to help people here in any way I can."

He is very complimentary about the "friendly" people of the North-East, and despite growing tensions about asylum-seekers, he says he has never encountered any hostility.

The accent is still Middle-Eastern, but Adnan grins and says: "I suppose you can call me an adopted Geordie."

*l Adnan is not the doctor's real name which has been changed for security reasons.