Pushing for Change

I was living in Iran and about get married when Saddam Hussein’s regime collapsed. I had wandered for eight years, living away from my family and without a home. After Saddam fell, I decided to celebrate my wedding among my family and my beloved friends.



I believed that the change would mean the beginning of a new life and the end of displacement. I resettled in my home town of Hawija, 70 kilometres west of Kirkuk, and visited friends in Basra, Kut, Diyala and Kerbala before sectarianism set in and divided so much of Iraq. Back then, we only feared highway robbers who might steal money or vehicles. The roads were empty of checkpoints, as the police and army had not yet been established.



I first started thinking about working to create change during a visit to Baghdad in February 2004, when I met several people working with a political party. I was fed up with the way people were thinking in my town of Hawija, a Sunni stronghold, where many still believed Saddam was going to come back to power. I tried to tell them that they should not live in the past and instead think about the future – Saddam’s rule was at an end.



Although the Baghdad trip inspired me to open a political office in Hawija, I was concerned about the poor security in the town and gave up on the idea. I decided instead to try to change the thinking of my close friends and family members.



Hawija is not an open-minded place, and serving as an agent of change here is difficult. My wife, an educated Shia Iraqi, found it hard to cope with the Hawija’s closed-in Sunni society and poor public services. She had spent much of her life in the Iranian city of Mashhad, and had nothing to tie her to this part of Iraq except me. She urged me to move to Baghdad or Hilla or anywhere else, but I refused. Hawija, for all its imperfections, is where my family, friends and memories are. It is home.



But sectarianism and extremism were increasing. Beheaded corpses lay on the street, the graffiti on the walls called for jihad. No one dared to utter the word "Zarqawi" in public because even whispering the name of the leader of al-Qaeda in Iraq would lead to certain death.



In the meantime, I was quietly pursuing a career in journalism. I decided to become a journalist because under the Baath regime, I had seen how effective the media were in reaching people. Just as Saddam was successful in using the media to prop up his dictatorship, we could use it to educate people.



The people in my area were stubborn in their belief that Saddam would return to power. A very insular society, Hawija does not accept new ideas easily. Through my interviews with young people, relatives and friends, I tried to change perspectives. I told them there was a world outside Hawija, with many opportunities, and that they should participate in the political process rather than boycott it.



In June 2006, my friend – a teacher – and I made an unsuccessful attempt to establish a newspaper. Our goal was to change minds in Hawija, but we could not find anyone to support or fund our project.



Around that time, I received a death threat shortly after sending a report from an internet cafe to IWPR. I was eating lunch when I received the threat on my mobile phone. The jist of the message was that as Shias, we had ties with foreign organisations and must be killed.



I looked at my wife in fear, imagining our heads lying on the streets and our bodies in the river Tigris. I lost my appetite, knowing that I was going to be displaced again. I asked my wife to pack her bags. I did not tell her why, fearing that she might collapse.



We ended up moving to the city of Kirkuk, where I worked for a Kurdish newspaper. My teacher friend, meanwhile, was attempting to turn people against al-Qaeda by meeting sheikhs and talking to other influential and ordinary citizens in the autumn of 2006.



He encouraged people to speak out against al-Qaeda and proposed that “Salvation Councils” be established in our area. These councils, now called Awakening Councils, are made up of Sunni local citizens who protect their areas, particularly from foreign militants.



He garnered public support from tribal and local leaders, and we relayed the council idea to the Ministry of the Interior. At that time, the only Awakening Council was in Anbar province. We were told that the proposal was sent to Baghdad, but we never heard anything back.



I knew the risks and I knew that I was confronting al-Qaeda, but I felt responsible to people. Someone has to make a difference, and I felt I could contribute. But I did take extra precautions, fearing that I would be targeted.



On July 12, 2007, as I left home, I saw a blue Opel car drive towards me. The car did not have a license plate and I saw five armed men inside. I froze, fearing the end. As they drove past me, the men turned and began shooting.



I threw myself on the pavement, losing consciousness as the car skidded away. A shop owner pulled me inside of his store, thinking I was dead. When I regained consciousness, I felt relieved that I was alive and unhurt, but realised I needed to move again.



My wife had left for Hilla a few weeks before to be with her family, and I returned to Hawija. I was in hiding there when, on July 29, our son was born. His birth coincided with the day the Iraqi team won the Asia Cup championship, and both events revived my soul.



Before we had the baby, I thought about leaving the country. I was displaced, moving from one place to another, tired and angry. I had a valid passport and was considering my options abroad. But I decided that my son could not live in exile or displacement as I had done, and that I needed to be part of positive change in Iraq.



In early 2008, my friend and I decided to form a political party in Hawija, the Iraqi People’s Party, which has no sectarian leanings. We finally made the decision out of frustration with Iraq’s existing sectarian and ethnic-based parties, and because the Sunni parties in our area do not represent us.



We hope to participate in the October 2008 provincial elections. We have gained support from tribal leaders and students who have decided to fight back and regain their rights through the election contest. We are drumming up support by talking to people in places like Mosul, Kirkuk, Salahuddin, Hilla and Nassiriyah, and are working to draft our platform.



We know that democracy is not easy – especially given the presence of extremists who believe those working within the system are infidels who should be killed. We have resolved to take this path knowing that we face many challenges, including building the "soul of responsibility" of Iraqi citizens.



We are now hoping we can persuade citizens that we can represent them and change their lives for the better. I have no doubt that Iraq’s problems are temporary, and that tomorrow will be a new day.



Jasim Sabawi is an IWPR-trained journalist in Hawija.