| Written by Maria Elena Salinas |
| Tuesday, April 13 2004 |
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| It's hard to forget what I was doing a year ago around this time: I was spending Easter in Baghdad. It's even harder to forget what I saw: a country sinking deeper into anarchy while its people struggled to survive and find some semblance of normalcy.
It was just a couple of weeks after the world watched in astonishment the images on television of American troops bringing down a statue of Saddam Hussein. Crowds of Iraqis cheered them on and then dragged the statue's metal torso down the streets in what became the symbolic fall of the much-despised "Butcher of Baghdad."
I had spent a week in Kuwait with my TV crew, trying to convince U.S. Army officials to help us cross the border into Iraq. Or at least to let us tag along behind the troops. They made it very clear: A "unilateral" press credential meant you were on your own. And what that means -- one kind Army man told me -- is that "when you get shot in the head, I don't have to be the one to call your husband and tell him."
So on that note, my three crew members and I joined a caravan of other "unilateral" journalists, and on our own we crossed the border, embarking on a 12-hour journey through the desert. Destination: Baghdad. We were equipped with water, food and other emergency supplies. We had bulletproof vests and gas masks, just in case the weapons of mass destruction thing turned out to be true.
There was nothing but sand for miles and miles on both sides of the road. A few tanks blown up here and there. A row of camels heading in one direction, and American armored vehicles as far as the eye could see heading in the other. And out of nowhere, an Iraqi nomad would show up on the side of the road asking for food or water or dollars in exchange for dinars.
Yes, I did see a smile once in a while, a thumbs-up, a sign of welcome to the Americans. But once we made it into the capital, it was a completely different story. Not a day went by without a protest in front of the now-infamous Palestine Hotel, or a night without shootings. There was no electricity, no hot water, no schools open and few hospitals to treat the countless casualties of war.
In the week we spent there, we saw Baghdad through the eyes of the Iraqi people. We were taken to remote sites outside of the city where Iraqi citizens were digging through mass graves, hoping to find lost loved ones.
At the hospitals, we saw limbless women and children, victims of collateral damage. We went into Saddr City, formerly known as Saddam City, a no-man's land where the toughest Iraqis armed themselves and were in control while American soldiers stayed at bay.
What a difference a year makes. The hospitals are better-equipped and
-staffed, thanks to humanitarian donations. There are no new mass graves from which to dig up loved ones. Most schools are up and running, and there is some electricity, water and basic institutions.
But Iraq is far from seeing law and order. The protests I witnessed a year ago have grown and become more violent. Now it's not only the Iraqis in Saddr City who have armed themselves. A year ago, there was so much uncertainty about the whereabouts of Saddam Hussein and his alleged WMDs. Now that he has been captured and the WMDs seem to be nonexistent, Iraq has become an even more dangerous place.
What a difference a year makes. A year ago, an Army official told me we should prepare for the Fourth of July parade to welcome home the troops. Now there's talk of sending in more troops. A year ago, the attitudes of the Iraqi people were measured by the looks on their faces. Now they are measured by pollsters. A year ago, more than 70 percent of Americans approved of President George W. Bush's handling of Iraq. Now the latest polls show 40 percent support.
A year ago, I spent Easter Sunday watching Iraqis dig up dead bodies. This year, my Easter was spent watching my kids dig up Easter eggs from the snow. What a difference a year makes.
Footnote: One year after my visit to Baghdad, I often think of the journalists who lost their lives covering the story. Among them, NBC correspondent David Bloom, Atlantic Monthly editor Michael Kelly and Argentine TV correspondent Mario Podesta, who died while traveling in a convoy to Baghdad only days before my trip. This Easter, I am cherishing the time I am spending with my daughters and hoping that a year will make a real difference in bringing peace to Iraq. |
