IRAQ: Baghdad gives rush hour new meaning
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Sunday morning is the worst time to drive in Baghdad, because it’s the first day of the workweek here. For that reason, I left home early last Sunday to reach work on time. As I approached the bus terminal, I was surprised to see it crowded with buses just sitting there.
The drivers had been warned by others to avoid downtown because of terrible traffic jams. But people have to get to work, so some people gave our driver extra money to go downtown via Haifa Street, which six months ago was a battleground controlled by Sunni insurgents. Back then, it was difficult for regular Sunnis to venture down Haifa Street. It was impossible for Shiites to do so. That changed after U.S. and Iraqi forces attacked the insurgents controlling the area.
The driver agreed to take us along that route. But when we got there, traffic slowed to a crawl. The Iraqi Army was using razor wire and Humvees to block Haifa Street, a major thoroughfare. We did not know why. Nervous soldiers yelled at drivers to use a side street. Drivers pleaded to be allowed to pass. Our bus driver tried to pass, but traffic police signaled him to go in another direction. He turned the bus around to use the alternate road but appeared hesitant. It meant driving down a nearly deserted alleyway in a mainly Sunni area that not long ago was a theater for sectarian killings. Even though the area has been quiet for some time, the memories of what went on there make it impossible for most Iraqis to feel safe. Few are convinced of Iraqi officials’ claims that all is well, here or anywhere else.
The driver finally began moving. He went about 300 feet. Then, as if he had mustered up his courage, he put his foot on the gas and moved further along, at a higher speed. But the poor driver’s burst of bravery did not last long. He stopped after another 50 feet when he saw other drivers hesitating. He backed up. Then he sat for a few minutes, waiting. Finally, he decided to move forward again. We entered the terrifying alley, which was empty of security forces, save for one lonely Iraqi police checkpoint. As we moved along, I looked out the window, at the bullet holes on the walls of houses and shops and at the ruins of bombed buildings. People once filled the streets here, and shops once flourished. Now, nearly all the shops are closed and few people walk the streets.
It took us 15 minutes to crawl through the area. I was relieved when we reached the end of the street, which swarmed with people and cars. We were back in the thick of rush hour, and this time, I was glad.
— Usama Redha in Baghdad