That’s me in the picture: Stuart Lockwood with Saddam Hussein, 24 August 1990 Baghdad, Iraq

I’m a PE teacher, and it’s funny when my students clock on to what happened to me when I was five. They get it mixed up and ask, “Is it true that Osama bin Laden kidnapped you?” and I have to say, “No, you’ve got the wrong person.”

My dad was working in the oil industry and was recruited to work in Kuwait. We lived in a bungalow in a camp with other British families. The pool was a stone’s throw away and we were 30m from the beach. I remember playing with our next-door neighbours’ children, getting to know other kids through swimming clubs. Then the Iraqi Guard invaded Kuwait, and all the men in our camp were taken hostage in Iraq. It was at least a month before we were able to go and see them. When we got to Baghdad, we were taken to a building and reunited with our fathers. We were to be kept there, too.

This was during the Gulf war, and there were talks between various nations about taking military action against Saddam Hussein’s regime. It was said he wanted the British citizens all under one roof, to use us as human shields, so he wouldn’t get bombed. We thought it was a publicity stunt – that he really wanted to show the world how well we were treated. And to be fair, we were – the Iraqi soldiers were very nice and welcoming. They made a cake for a child’s birthday and we had a party. But when Saddam Hussein entered the area it suddenly changed; they became stiff and stern.

He wanted to do a TV stunt. There were lots of kids in the room, but he’d seen me and picked me out. My dad stood at the back of the room with me and didn’t want me to go up to him; he had his hand on my shoulder and was squeezing it tightly. My mum said, “Derek, you need to let him go.” It was at that point that I had to go up to the front with Saddam.

I was scared, but it was because the armed guards frightened the hell out of me. I remember one of them patting me on the head and ruffling my hair as I stood next to Saddam. I kind of knew who he was and that he was important – I’d seen pictures of him throughout the building. I didn’t exactly know how powerful he was, partly because my mum and dad had shielded me from it all.

Through his interpreter he started asking me stupid questions like, “Did you have milk with your breakfast?” Then he tried to sit me on his lap. I crossed my arms and shied away. Any five-year-old backs off when a stranger tries to sit them on their lap; I don’t think it was just because it was Saddam Hussein.

We were released a few weeks afterwards. The civil rights activist the Rev Jesse Jackson fought for our freedom, and we were released early because of him. He carried me off the plane at Heathrow. I remember loads of flashes and lots of people wanting to take photographs and do interviews. Reporters tried to speak to me. My mum laughs about it, because I was tired and grumpy and hiding behind her: I didn’t want anything to do with it.

My dad was still a hostage in Iraq and it was a horrible time for me. My older brother was 14 and he had to take on that father figure role. But about a week before Christmas the men were released and Dad came home. To this day, it’s the best Christmas present I’ve ever had.

Interview by Erica Buist.

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