IRAQ:A war-weary Iraqi family say a stronger government gives them some hope, writes Lara Marlowein Baghdad
JABER KHASRAJI was delighted to learn that Iraqi government troops had moved into the Shia Muslim slums of Sadr city yesterday morning.
"Of course, I want the government to be in control," said the 50-year-old office manager, referring to prime minister Nuri al-Maliki's efforts to disarm Muqtada Sadr's Jaish al-Mehdi militia. "All Iraqis want this."
The Khasraji family witnessed the seven-week battle for Sadr City, between late March and mid-May, at close quarters.
Their home stands in a once comfortable middle-class area along Palestine Street, 200 metres from the slums. A US military compound is located several hundred metres in the other direction; the Khasrajis were literally caught in the crossfire.
"It was showering bullets," says Faiza, Jaber's wife and the mother of five children.
"Two children in our neighbourhood were killed, and two were wounded, one in the head, the other in the chest. Bullets still lie in the street. Two mortars landed in our garden, though they didn't explode."
The neighbours two doors away were less fortunate; Faiza shows me the hole in the upper storey of their villa.
Yesterday's operation appeared to go peacefully. The army spokesman Maj-Gen Qassim Moussawi said: "The troops entered all of Sadr City's districts and are trying to arrest all the wanted men."
Hundreds of people were killed in earlier fighting between US forces and the Jaish al-Mehdi, but the militia mustered no resistance to yesterday's "Operation Peace".
For the Khasrajis, it was further cause for hope. When I last saw them, in October 2005, their second son Faed, now 21, was recovering from being kidnapped for ransom by a gang.
"I feel better," Faed says.
"But every time I hear someone has been kidnapped, I relive the whole thing. Two people were kidnapped in our neighbourhood in the last 10 days."
Though Faed recently became engaged to marry his cousin Zahra, he is not optimistic about the near future. "Maybe in 10 years things will start to get better. When Sunnis and Shia start killing each other, they have to get revenge. It is not easy to stop it."
Faiza was tense and anxious when I last saw her. Despite the recent battles for Sadr City, she is more relaxed now.
"There is less kidnapping and killing in the streets," she explains.
She has prepared Masgoof fish from the Tigris, a delicacy, and Jaber's favourite beans in spicy tomato sauce for my visit. We sit down on the living room floor, Iraqi-style, to eat.
The Khasrajis are Shia Muslims, like Muqtada Sadr and the governing coalition of the Dawa and Supreme Islamic Council (SIC) parties. Though their eldest son works for SIC's Iranian-funded television station, they bear no allegiance to any party or leader, only to Grand Ayatollah Ali al-Sistani.
And they hate Muqtada Sadr. "Even if he bounces back, he will not be strong like before," Jaber predicts. "No one would dare put up a poster of Muqtada at a checkpoint now."
Faiza holds his group, the Jaish al-Mehdi, responsible for the murder of her two cousins last September.
"They owned a handbag factory near the central bank," she explains.
"They stopped going there because of the traffic, and they turned their home into a factory. But once a week, they delivered their handbags to the shops. They were driving down Canal Street, about 7am, and three gunmen followed them and shot them. The Jaish al-Mehdi controlled Canal Street then."
The cousins drove a Malaysian-made white Proton car, a model owned by many government employees. The family believe they were murdered because the militia mistook them for civil servants.
Jaber and Faiza dislike the US and Iran in equal measure, though their children say they prefer the US. Aged nine to 26, the children dream of living in a country where they could safely go out at night. The parents place all their hopes in the emergence of a strong central government.
"We feel the US and Iran are using our country to settle scores," says Jaber.
"The Americans destroyed everything," says Faiza. Jaber is glad that Saddam Hussein was overthrown, but reproaches the US for its disastrous handling of the aftermath. "I will never thank them," he says bitterly.
Since the US started protecting the Sunnis from Sadr's militia, several Sunnis have told me they want the Americans to stay. "I felt that way before," says Jaber, "But now I feel the government is growing stronger. It wasn't easy to take on the Jaish al-Mehdi. If the government plan to control the militias goes well, everything will be okay here."
The fact that Maliki has also attacked al-Qaeda in the northern city of Mosul "shows he's against Sunni extremists too", Jaber adds.
The Khasrajis believe Iraqi television reports of Iranian interference. "They give weapons to the Jaish al-Mehdi, and I suspect they're even supporting the Sunni insurgents, to get at the Americans," says Jaber. He also resents Damascus allowing al-Qaeda extremists to enter Iraq through Syria.
The black-edged photograph of Abdel Karim, Faiza's late brother, who was tortured and imprisoned for 10 years by Saddam Hussein, is on prominent display in the living room.
"Iraqis know our police and army and government torture prisoners," Jaber says. "I hate it, but I believe it is necessary, temporarily, because we are fighting very bad people. Those they kidnap are weak and plead for mercy, and they cut their heads off. Of course, there are many innocent people in prison."
A Sunni friend accuses the Maliki government of "filling their pockets" to buy houses in the luxurious neighbourhood of Abdoun in Amman. "It's true," Jaber sighs. "I don't like our politicians, but I like the lower-level officials who serve the Iraqi people."
When they take me back to my hotel, he is gleeful at nascent signs of law and order: newly-planted grass on the central reservation in Palestine Street; smartly dressed, clean-shaven policemen at a checkpoint on Mohamed al-Qassem highway.
When I last saw the Khasrajis, Jaber wanted to emigrate with his family to Egypt or Syria.
"God loves this family," he says. "Fortunately, we just didn't have enough money. The governments in Damascus and Cairo are telling people: 'You're Iraqis; you have to leave.' We like what we have here. We have two cars, and our house. I'm glad we stayed."
Faiza still dreams of emigrating, but only if the family can stay together.
To support his family, Jaber had to accept an administrative job with the UN in northern Iraq. He makes the dangerous journey home to see his family once a week.
"I would work for anyone in Baghdad now, even the Americans, to be with my family," he says.
Unemployment remains a huge problem. Much as she dislikes the Americans, Faiza repeatedly asks me if I can find jobs for her sons in the Green Zone.
"Our neighbour across the street is a police officer," says Jaber. "He and all his children and brothers are on the police payroll."
A Sunni friend, who was a civil servant before the war, confirms tales of corruption in government employment. He wants to work for the foreign ministry.
A high-ranking official offered him a job, in exchange for a $2,000 bribe.