Iraq: postcards from the edge (page 1 of 3)

When Iraqis talk about "security" they are less likely to mention the explosions in Baghdad that make headlines in the international media than the lawlessness that has been endemic since last year.

They might mention, for instance, the case of Mustapha Samarai, a champion boxer who was kidnapped by five armed men near his Baghdad home, imprisoned for three days and released only when his friend organized a $5,000 ransom.

"They wanted 80 million dinars ($53,000)," he said. "The $5,000 was less than many other people have paid, and while I was held blindfolded I heard the thieves discussing plans to seize a doctor who would pay much more. I am a strong man, but now I feel weak and am thinking of leaving the country. Whenever we Iraqis make progress, something goes wrong."

"Since the regime fell I have started wearing a hijab," said a woman in Baghdad. "Since the regime change you feel more pressure when you're out on the street - I was robbed when walking with my child - and so you do anything you can that will make you feel more comfortable."

Iraqis, like people everywhere, can hold contradictory views. A traffic policemen in Kirkuk nodded as his brother praised those who fought US forces in Falluja, and then added that if the Americans left he would leave his job as there would be "civil war on the streets" and his mother and sister would be unable to visit the market.

As the country emerged from the blanket control of the Ba'athist era, the proliferation of satellite television and newspapers has produced information overload - but little overall perspective. Baghdad in particular is rife with rumor, with every day producing new accounts of explosions that are kept quiet through conspiracies.

"The Iranians have brought 2 million Shi'ites into Iraq in order to win early elections," said a Sunni Arab and former army officer. "This is why the Americans did not secure the borders."

The June day Ghazi Mashal Ajil al-Yawir was appointed president, Iraqis on the streets of Baghdad reacted with a mixture of indifference and hope. "It's good to have someone from the Shamar tribe," said one Sunni Arab. "They are honorable people, although I don't know him personally. He must concentrate on improving the security situation, and he must take care to project himself with vigor."

"It's got nothing to do with us," said Ali Obeidi, 22, who was shopping in central Baghdad. "We preferred Saddam Hussein, when the security was much better. You need an army of 3 million to keep the peace in Iraq."

"When I went to the mosque, the sheikh said this new president is another Sunni and would be against the Shi'ites," said a shopkeeper with a Shi'ite father and Sunni mother. "What is really important is that he loves Iraq and is honest. But how can we know? It's very confusing."

Iraqis are now starting to discuss the merits, and flaws, of their newly emerging political class. Taxi drivers and shopkeepers will offer opinions to customers much as they might in countries that take freedom of speech for granted. Since such talk, until a year ago, could land anyone in prison - or worse - this is a hesitant process.

Many people still clam up when questioned by a foreign journalist - or start repeating platitudes, sometimes praising Saddam, in the "official" monotone of the Ba'athist era.
Clans and cousins. Inevitably, many have retreated into family or clan. "It's okay in our quarter because everyone is of the Hadidi clan and we are all cousins," said Falah Hassan Ahmed, a 24-year-old Arab in Kirkuk who spent five years in prison for "insulting the president."

There are many commentators, often outside Iraq, who want to tell the world "what Iraqis think" (usually to support their own views).