born 1976, political Scientist and freelance journalist
[22/02/2010]
Al Saydoun street, in Karrada, with its terraces full of students eating and drinking (juices) could make you think you are in Beirut. For the first time, since traveling from Basra to Baghdad, there are nearly as many women uncovered as covered ones and jeans and trainers are far more numerous than traditional clothes, a majority in the country's south. Ali Kareem, a student of Theatrical Directing in the Fine Arts Academy of Baghdad points to a low-rise block of buildings: "It's the premises of the local homosexual community of Baghdad". And nobody attacks them? - "No, not anymore". Assim and Bilal, Ali's companions in the University and students of design and sculpture, with whom he is sharing the terrace, assure that that period is over. There is alcohol available, the terraces are full and there is nearly absolute normality. It is part of the liberty that the streets aim to recover after nearly seven years of foreign military occupation and two years of sectarian war between religious militias. "We know what can happen in any moment. But we also know that it happens less frequently".
We walk towards Abu Noass, the most busy avenue, next to the river Tigris, in Baghdad. A statue has survived there, of a poet who praised love, hetero and homosexual love, during the caliphate of Harum al Raschid. It is one of the most beautiful and peaceful parks in the city and it now seems impossible, with the atmosphere of normality, to think that in the worse moment of the sectarian war that broke the city into pieces six months ago, the Health Ministry made a daily recount of the tortured and murdered bodies floating down the river, right in front of the place we have chosen to enjoy our picnic.
Nowadays, any given morning, any Friday in December, Abu Noass is full of youngsters and families who enjoy their meals in one of the open terraces, lovers walking hand in hand and football games under the warm sun of the Iraqi winter. One team is playing with the colors of Real Madrid and the other with Barcelona's. The calm is only broken by the American helicopters, which are ignored by everyone – it has been nearly seven years- and that will be heading to the Green Zone, at the other side of the river, in front of the Sheraton and Palestine hotels, now not only completely empty but with minimal security measures. It is not even possible to see the weapons, resting within the cabins, of the guards who reluctantly register the people going in, loaded with backpacks, to the precinct that the hotels share with two local TV stations.
Ali, Bilal and Assim eat outdoors while they joke around. They are happy but they do not want to be over-confident: "We do not want you to transmit a mistaken idea, the fact that you are here with us is still not normal, you are a foreigner. So stay by our side and keep quiet if anyone asks you anything. Let us do the talking." They have the same age. Between 20 and 25. They hardly remember the previous regime. And they feel relatively free. "We have not had any choice and we have lived nearly all our lives in war, so there comes a time when you stop thinking about it and you simply try to live day to day. Maybe we take a little longer than necessary in finishing our studies because we have to work at the same time but we do theater, we paint, we go to exhibitions, we listen to music and we have fun".
Ali's definition of his daily life is not much different from the one you would get from any student from any university in any country while he awaits, hopefully, for the theater of the Fine Arts College to reopen, after having been completely refurbished thanks to a cooperation program with the US army. He does not seem to find any contradiction in this. "Well, one day I did ask some American soldiers, as they were going inside the University, why had they killed so many Iraqi women and children. They gave me no answer. I also asked them why were they going into the University with arms. They said it was for security. Theirs or mine, I asked. Silence. I only think they should leave as soon as possible. Yes, if you want I'll grant you this. But I also have to say that I am scared about what will happen when they are gone. Sadly, I do no trust the Iraqi people".
Ali, who used to live in Kerbala, was 17 when the war started. "I was sleeping. I heard a strange noise, I went out to the street. There were tanks and soldiers. People were saluting them. I called my friends. We sat in front of them and looked at them for days. Our families were happy because Saddam had been overthrown". In his home, no one talked much about it. "I know nobody was willing to die for Saddam. There was hardly any resistance, the problems started later". Ali's main concern is the possibility of continuing with their theatrical work. Last year they staged "Waiting for Godot". This year they hope to continue with Fernando Arrabal. He does not show much interest in talking about the occupation, invisible and with its days numbered, while he starts to explain the plays that they have been debating in the University. The pros and cons of all the plays they are thinking of staging
Bilal talks about how important it is to recover Baghdad's city center for the citizens: "I know this place since 2003, when my father started to let me go with him to some of the galleries and art exhibitions here. Later, between 2005 and 2008, it was nearly impossible to get here due to the security measures of the US Army. Since the Iraqi army took over, we can once again walk around Abu Noass. We know that the situation could change again tomorrow but we hope it doesn't". Assim defends the importance of his artistic activities, of his exhibitions, of the art galleries, the theatrical plays, "many people think that those of us who do not take up arms to fight against the Americans are collaborators. And this is not so. We try to build our lives and our country in the measure of our possibilities, not in the way in which we are pressured to chose".
None of the three students with whom I am getting to know Baghdad is a believer or a religious follower. Ali and Bilal come from families that would be described by sectarians as Shiite. Assim, from a Sunni background, "my brother and my father were underground militants of the Communist Party under the previous regime, they fought against Saddam. My father even fought in Palestine and Lebanon with the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine. Two years ago, the Mahdi Army came to our house to force us to leave. We refused. Our neighbors, Shiites, defended us, we were very lucky, but since then, I am very careful about the districts in Baghdad where I dare to go and those that I do not. ".
So Assim will not be going with Ali, who is performing a monologue in the Imam Hussein Cultural and Islamic Thought Center of Al Sho'ala, an area in northeast Baghdad, controlled by the Mahdi Army. Al Sho'ala has taken the brunt in the violent sectarian clashes of the district of Al Khadamiye, to which it belongs.
- Do you feel comfortable among clerics and religious people?
"No, not at all. In this district, they are the murderers. But it is one of the few opportunities I have of performing with an audience. The performance of this monologue here, in Abu Noass, was not authorized by the government. And I am determined in seeing the people's reaction to this piece. It is called “The Boot”. I know that the Sadrists will like it. A University companion lives there and he has organized the visit".
A phone call and a half hour wait. "The foreigner may come with you. He is welcome". The air of normality with which they arrange the visit of a European journalist (without any protection other than the verbal invitation by a friend) to a stronghold of the Mahdi Army, not long ago unapproachable, gives a good measure of the relative calm of the present situation in Baghdad. It only takes about 20 minutes and another couple of checkpoints. The route entering Al Khadamiye is fluid and without any unpleasant surprises. From Khadamiye to Al Sho'ala, a big white jeep with stained windows, one of those that does not stop at checkpoints. The controls in Baghdad are not that hard. It all depends on who is driving the car, on what he is carrying.
We are received by various leaders of the community in a house where abundant cooking for the Ashura is taking place. The area is a stark contrast to the center of Baghdad. Al Sho'ala has no public lighting, the darkness outside of the houses is absolute. There is no public cleaning service, either. The state of the neighborhood is deplorable. Like so many other areas we have crossed, there are many empty houses, abandoned and falling to pieces. There are also families who are obviously living in houses that are not theirs. The trails of the displacement of the population are evident in many parts of the city. Once we get into the Cultural Center, we eat and we drink tea. They pray. We then watch a video depicting the martyrdom of Hussein and various religious speeches are made, without political undertones. The place is full of men muttering versicles of the Koran, replying to those conducting the act.
The performance takes place with normality. The center is bursting with people, the audience listen attentively to a monologue in which Ali talks to a boot and complains to it about the violence that the occupation has imposed on Iraqis, using the first person of an emigre to a neighboring country who wants to go back home but is frightened of other Iraqis. Applause. Shouts in remembrance of Hussein's martyrdom. We should not forget that the mourning of the Shiite Ashura is the context in which the performance takes place. Ali, moved, considers the performance a great success. "Normally, religious people do not applaud, specially if facing a youngster. It goes against their cultural habits. But this time they have applauded, you have seen it with your own eyes. This is my resistance, telling them that, after the American occupation, the problem is now between ourselves, and they have understood. They are not innocent. They are involved. And they have understood. That is my resistance." We are invited to drink tea. They are welcoming and -especially- curious. Ali does not want me to be over-confident. "Do not answer too many questions, do not give details. I do not know all of them, it is better that we do not linger, night is falling, let's go to my house. It is much safer than the hotel".
A posteriori note: The words so often repeated, that things could change any minute, were proven correct three weeks later. A suicide attack took place near the Abu Noass avenue. It killed 41 people who were simply walking down the street.