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When Iraqi immigrants landed, they were sprayed in the airport with DDT. The precedent for this was the British authorities having sprayed Holocaust survivors and Jewish illegal immigrants from Europe with DDT before they were shipped to camps in Cyprus. Only those who arrived on private flights and American Jews were spared. Spraying was done in a shack, in groups of four, although some children resisted being sprayed. The Iraqis were then given their initial identification papers, among them the newcomer’s certificate (t‘udat ‘oleh), documenting their arrival in Israel. The contents of their baggage were inspected as well.

Iraqi writer Rahamim Rejwan’s short story “On the Road to the Transit Camp” (“Ba-derech la-ma‘abara”) narrates how Iraqis experienced this moment. The story opens with a scene of a group of Iraqis, in their fine dress, anticipating a warm welcome, possibly with flowers, in the new state. When they land, three men arrive from the airport and approach them, ordering them to stand in parallel rows. Some still believe they are about to receive flowers, cigarettes, and food. The men are told to untie their ties, open their collars, and unbutton their shirts. The women find this request particularly bizarre. Then the men spray a white powder all over the Iraqi men and on the hair and breasts of the Iraqi women. The story records the conversations between the newcomers:

“Ha ha,” the sound of the laughter of one dressed-up lady from Abu Sifin was heard,“they are cleaning my husband’s little one. Does it have to be cleansed as well?” . . .

“What does it matter, give me a break, they are used to cleanliness here. We must be like them,” someone commented.

“This powder doesn’t smell right!” said one woman all of a sudden.

“I don’t think it’s a regular powder.” . . .

One man refused to be sprayed with powder . . .

“You must,” the sprayer said. “Otherwise you can’t get food.”

Jokes and questions flit about; the three men spraying the group turn away embarrassed, failing to realize whether the group is protesting or joking; they therefore yell at them to remain calm. Finally, one of the Iraqi Jews, a pharmacist, realizes what the material is. The laughter ends.

After being sprayed, they wait for hours in the airport for an official to arrive. There are no beds available for small children. One woman who is lactating and nursing volunteers to breastfeed other children. The men of the Zionist underground who had depicted the migration in rosy tints are now silent. When a clerk finally shows up, they stand in front of a small window to meet him. He is rude and standoffish, no different than the condescending Iraqi bureaucrats.