Despite hardships and lingering violence, residents imagine a new version of the ancient city
I haven't returned to Baghdad to be a war tourist, attuning my eyes to the many long shadows cast by trauma
The last time I was here I wore desert camouflage and carried an M4
I've often wondered what it must be like for Iraqis struggling to reclaim a life for themselves:
I've also wondered how it would feel to walk down a Baghdad street without a flak vest and 210 rounds of ball ammunition strapped to my chest.
We rode through the storm of metal, hearts pounding in our chests
Memories like these reenact themselves in my mind now as we drive through the city, and for a moment I imagine I've returned to Baghdad the way a ghost might haunt the world it once inhabited
But things have changed…
This isn't the Baghdad I once knew
Everywhere around Baghdad there is the sound of a city regaining its voice
I wanted to know what had become of this place where I'd once come to war
If I was going to meet the new Baghdad, I'd have to put some old habits and memories to the side
Baghdad is no longer a model secular city of the Middle East, as Iraqis once proudly described it
Years of violence have created a new landscape defined by tribe and religion.
With a population of nearly six million, Baghdad has become a city of walled enclaves regulated by Iraqi Army troops, federal police officers, local policemen, private security guards, and other groups such as the Sons of Iraq, who are like your local Neighborhood Watch crew, only armed with AK-47s…
America didn't bring democracy.
It brought walls…