BAGHDAD — Mohammed Fawzi Radhi makes his living putting people to sleep.
His is a trade on the edge of extinction, but as Iraqis come to appreciate the comfort of his hand-fluffed cotton mattresses, Radhi says, business is picking up.
BAGHDAD — Mohammed Fawzi Radhi makes his living putting people to sleep.
His is a trade on the edge of extinction, but as Iraqis come to appreciate the comfort of his hand-fluffed cotton mattresses, Radhi says, business is picking up.
Like many other businesses in Iraq, Radhi's was affected by the ouster of Saddam Hussein in 2003. In his case, newly imported merchandise competed directly with his age-old trade after Iraq's borders opened up and foreign goods poured in. The imports included beds with foam mattresses and springs. Suddenly Radhi, who restores mattresses by combing and fluffing up the cotton innards, had a king-sized problem.
It nearly drove him to close the 52-year-old family enterprise, but as time goes on, he says, Iraqis are returning to him for their sleep needs. Once they've tried a factory-made mattress and compared it with his handiwork, they feel the difference.
"People call me a mattress craftsman," says Radhi, 25, a cheerful, slight man in an oversized shirt who works out of a tiny storefront in Baghdad. "People know that with us, they get what they want."
Radhi, who is a scientist by training, doesn't need a sign to advertise his skills. Most days there is at least one mattress lying on the sidewalk outside his shop, waiting to be restuffed with freshly fluffed cotton or to have its matted, tired guts ripped out and put through the purring metal machine that combs the cotton. The machines, which are assembled in Iraq from imported parts, are about waist-high and bear a vague resemblance to a photocopier with teeth.
Old cotton is placed on a tray and fed into the machine, passing beneath a roller with teeth that chews up and separates the matted material. It's spit out the other end in silky puffs.
Radhi spends most of his time in his workshop, which is actually a maroon metal shipping container. Stray tufts of cotton hang from the corners and float through the air like tiny ghosts. Mountains of cotton waiting to be sent through the combing machine sit on one side. On the other, an impossibly soft cloud of freshly puffed, snow-white cotton rises higher than Radhi's head. Soon it will be stuffed into mattress covers according to customers' specifications.
The harder the mattress, the more cotton goes in. Fortunately for Radhi, most Iraqis prefer soft mattresses, which require less effort to make.