Estranged in Baghdad

Only the end of occupation can end the ruin of Iraq, writes Karim Al-Shami*

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The fallen statue of ousted Iraqi leader Saddam Hussein and the new Freedom statue in the Fardus Square, Baghdad

I see Baghdad in ruins and dream of the day when we, the Iraqis, snatch our future from the claws of the military machine of the occupation. Yes, we had a dictatorial regime, ugly and merciless. And we had long dreamt of its overthrow. For years I pictured the future that waits on the regime fallen. I had imagined that we would live in security and stability. I had imagined that economic conditions would be better, following long years of sanctions that almost killed us.

Was it impossible for Iraq to return to normalcy? Was it impossible for Iraq to resume its genuine role in the region and the world? Not with that regime in power, definitely not.

I had hoped that the fall of the regime would pave the way for the restoration of stability in the region and the world. I had no doubt that this was the future. I couldn't have been more wrong. The regime has been gone for three years now. One would have thought that cohesion would have been restored among the components of the nation. I don't want to use sectarian labels, for I do not wish to promote a discourse that is unhelpful to our sense of national belonging. Sectarian discourse is the bane of this country. I had thought that the political forces that had so valiantly fought against the deposed regime would adopt cultural and economic traditions that are at variance with those of the foregone regime. Unfortunately, this didn't happen.

Most political groups have acted in the exact same way the despotic regime had. Most have proved themselves to be short- sighted beyond belief. Most have fought for provincial and sectarian gains that ultimately tear the country apart. This is not the future I had imagined. We should have put the higher interests of the country first. We should have all striven to maintain the unity of Iraq. But we haven't.

Under the former regime, and especially during sanctions, Baghdad was sick and paralysed, unable to give, unable to nourish. And yet somehow, on a personal and societal level, its mere existence gave us hope and pride. When the regime fell, we all imagined that Baghdad would be a Mecca not only for the Iraqis but for everyone. Unfortunately, this dear city began to crumble, and this is what broke our hearts. Baghdad is now in ruins. We feel estranged in it. This cannot be the same city in which we were born. Baghdad has been mutilated by its new masters. This cannot be the same city we've grown to love.

I blame the occupiers. Since the moment foreign tanks rolled into the city, the writing has been on the wall. I had dreamt of prosperity, of progress. I didn't expect the occupiers to give us anything. But I had thought that the mere demise of the regime would be enough for us to get back on our feet. I had expected my people to live in freedom and use that freedom to rebuild the country. I had expected my people to force the occupation to stick to the agenda that it declared to the world. I had expected democracy to emerge. This is why I am confused today. I am shocked by scenes of political chaos and destruction in the country. I am shocked by the extent to which the nation is being misled.

The crisis is getting worse and the future is grim. I believe that foreign forces should be pulled out, at least from towns for now. There should be a timetable for withdrawal. There should be a timetable for the nation to assume control of its future. Only then would Baghdad regain its beauty. Only then there will be hope.

* The writer is an Iraqi poet.