On the way to Najaf, at a distance, a dark line accompanies the almost straight road to the great city where Ali, the Prophet's son-in-law and cousin, lies buried. The line of palms signals a great swathe of rich agricultural land astride the Euphrates on the left. To the right, desert: a few black tents, two or three high-wailed khans or caravanserais with no historical importance that I know of. A sand-storm obliterated the sudden sun-burst effect the golden dome of Ali can make. On a clear day they say it is visible from forty miles away. Unlike Kerbela, a place of gardens, Najaf has the sterner face of a desert city.

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