If you’ve ever played Werewolf or Mafia, then the concept of the Iraqi game mheibes makes a certain kind of sense. One person out of 45 is holding a silver ring, and two teams have five minutes to figure out who it is—and which hand they’re holding it in. But this is no ordinary party game; it’s a grueling, multi-hour affair, with closely held trade secrets. For The Atlantic, Jason Anthony travels to Baghdad to watch mheibes masters at work and investigate why Iraqi men have developed such an astounding bullshit meter.

When the captains broke their huddle, al-Sheikhli called to the crowd, his arms outstretched. The al-Sa’doun fans answered with another cheer. Now he turned on one of the three remaining suspects, a young man with shaggy hair and his jacket pulled up around his neck—a common move to hide the pulsing of the carotid artery. Al-Sheikhli called for “fists and face” again, and the referee pulled back the man’s hair so that his face was fully visible. For the full three seconds, the captain stared him down. Finally, he gestured to the man’s right hand. “Jiib,” he said. Give it to me. The man opened his hand, and the stadium lights reflected, at last, on a glint of silver.

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