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- posted on 04/07/2007
YoutubeȷʵǸöܱԶѹȥԼƺʵ˳߽30ǰԤԵĴýķ̵ƶ
ĸƺԲͬķʽԸҵij̶طݡCNNһα֤
ֵעǣһһģʽҲ˸⡣ⲻȨ漰ȨȫЧӦӰ콫ԶԶκƶȣãܸѡǰκⶼԵáҪˡ
BAGHDAD, Iraq (AP) -- In 2003, when Saddam Hussein ruled Iraq, a woman named Hamdiyah al-Dulaimi had three handsome sons. They were good men with wives and families, the shining accomplishments of her life.
In hindsight, it was a much better life than she realized at the time. Most certainly better than it is now, four years after the fall of Baghdad.
On April 9, 2003, the people of the city cheered invading U.S. soldiers in the city square. Leaders of the coalition troops promised liberty, freedom and life without tyranny.
But Baghdad still has none of those things. And al-Dulaimi has no sons.
One day last spring, a dozen men in black uniforms knocked down her door. They screamed "Filthy Sunnis!" and handcuffed her sons, Haqqi, 39, Qais, 37, and Ali, 31.
"Why? What did my boys do?" the mother cried as the gunmen dragged their new prisoners across the floor.
Al-Dulaimi dropped to her knees, clinging to the ankles of a kidnapper. She begged, kissing his shoes. "At least leave me one. Take the other two. Leave me one."
They beat her unconscious with their gun stocks and took her sons.
The next day, her sons' corpses were on the sidewalk. Haqqi's body was headless. The bodies of Qais and Ali had been mutilated; some parts were missing.
Like so many others, their grieving mother fled -- to Syria, in her case.
She left behind deprivation and corruption, mayhem and madness. Baghdad is a city that is hemorrhaging many of its best and brightest, while many of those left behind are brutalized and traumatized.
Notwithstanding Sen. John McCain's stroll through a city market last week -- "Things are better," he insisted -- Iraqis wonder: Can a place where men blow themselves up in street markets, cars explode at traffic lights and kidnappings occur in broad daylight ever recover? (Watch McCain assess security in Baghdad )
There is a way out, say historians and sociologists. South Africa went on after the horrors of apartheid, in large part because of reconciliation hearings headed by Nobel Prize winner Archbishop Desmond Tutu.
In the same way, Rwanda tried to reach beyond the machetes that hacked to death 800,000 Tutsis, putting the Hutus who wielded them in the same room with their victims' families.
Such methods take years, and nothing can be done until the fighting stops.
"It's one of those terrible situations where you are at first aghast that such things could happen," said Jack Goldstone, a sociologist at George Mason University in Virginia who specializes in international conflict. "And then you realize that people are people and they've been doing this kind of thing forever and it's not the end of the world. People do go on."
But, "for any of this to occur, there has to be a settlement that provides security for the people of Iraq," he cautioned. "And we're a long way from that."
Doctors, other professionals flee for their lives
Missing are the simple things that feed body and soul: drinkable water that flows from a tap, electricity that stays on, movie theaters that open, booksellers with new books.
Also missing are an ever-growing number of doctors, professors and teachers -- "the brain of Baghdad," as the Iraqis say.
There is no official record of the number of professionals who have fled. There are only anecdotes -- an Iraqi doctor now living in Jordan who says 80 percent of his colleagues ran for their lives, an architect in Baghdad who says 30 percent of her fellow designers are gone.
Dr. Haidr al-Maliki, a specialist in child psychology, is a guarded but compassionate man. For him, leaving Iraq is not an honorable option. "If I leave and all the other doctors leave, all the hospitals would be closed," he said. "We have to take care of our people. Death can come in any country."
It has already come calling for al-Maliki, but the visit was unsuccessful. A 16-year-old "fine looking boy" walked into his clinic in 2005 and asked, "Are you Dr. Haidr?"
"Yes," said al-Maliki. With that, the teenager produced a pistol and opened fire. The doctor dived under his desk; he was shot twice, in the hand and shoulder.
The doctor never returned to his clinic. Instead, he now works out of a hospital in central Baghdad. The flashbacks he suffers from the shooting are horrible, he says, but sometimes they help him empathize with his young patients. They have no coping mechanisms and no way to process what is happening around them.
There is the 16-year-old girl who was abducted in February outside her school in a Sunni neighborhood. She was beaten and kept in a room for nine days with about 20 other kidnapped girls and forced to sleep next to the corpse of another victim.
The parents of al-Maliki's patient paid $20,000 -- the going rate in ransom negotiations -- for her safe return. She is seriously damaged -- terrified of darkness and the nightmares that come with sleep, hostile and aggressive when she is awake.
There is little al-Maliki can do except listen and offer words of calm comfort. But at least he is still there.
- Re: 被禁影片:我虽死去posted on 04/07/2007
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