Saddam's village shows signs of a hasty exodus

The family of Saddam Hussein had left in a hurry. In the opulent homes owned by the dictator and his relatives in the village of Ouija the signs of a hasty departure were everywhere.

Half-packed suitcases had been left in the middle of rooms, hastily gathered personal items had been swept from offices, and at one house there was a lawnmower, standing on the lawn with the cable plugged in, but the grass uncut. There was not a soul to be seen.

Ouija was always special to President Saddam. He was born here in 1937 in a small house made of mud and clay overlooking the Tigris river. Once he rose to power in the Baath party he had the house replaced with a mansion. He also built luxurious homes for his extended family and favoured officials, bringing them together in what had once been a dusty village ruled by the Bejat clan.

Such was the seclusion and privacy afforded to this place surrounded by date palms that locals could be killed for walking along the main road. "I have never been here before in my life. It was always private. You could be killed if you even tried," said Nihad Ali, a student from nearby Tikrit, acting as The Independent's translator.

The first house of note on the way into Ouija belongs to President Saddam's cousin, Ali Hassan al-Majid, nicknamed Chemical Ali for his role in gassing more than 5,000 Kurds at Halabja in 1988.

Majid had good taste when it came to kitchens. His was large with tiles on the floor and wood fittings. There was a nasty smell coming from the freezer which had been without power for more than a week but the only chemical was something in a yellow bottle that looked as if it was for doing the dishes. Upstairs was abedroom that appeared to belong to a teenage girl. On the wall were posters of George Michael, Brad Pitt and Gary Barlow of Take That fame.

Next on the block was the home of Saddam's half-brother, Barzani al-Tikriti, a senior local governor. US officials had taken away a truckload of papers and personal effects, but there was plenty left: clothes and cigars everywhere, and a room with a huge supply of Pampers nappies. Outside, overlooking the river, stood a delicately scented rose garden.

The house at the end of the road belonged to the top man. Much of it had been destroyed by bombing, but amid the debris personal possessions were clearly visible – stories in Arabic by Maxim Gorky, and a few LPs, the soundtrack fromOliver! and a London Symphony Orchestra recording of Tchaikovsky's Symphony No 3 in E major.

The biggest surprise was the indoor swimming pool and jogging machine. The pool looked a little oily but on a hot, dusty morning it was a temptation too great. There was even a diving board with a pleasing spring to it. Splashing about in the cool water it was hard not to try to imagine what must have been going through the minds of those who lived here, knowing the corrupt life they had enjoyed was over. Whatever they were thinking it is clear that they realised they had to get out, and quickly.