What Iraq's
Checkpoints Are Like
By Annia Ciezadlo
07 March, 2005
The
Christian Science Monitor
As
an American journalist here, I have been through many checkpoints and
have come close to being shot at several times myself. I look vaguely
Middle Eastern, which perhaps makes my checkpoint experience a little
closer to that of the typical Iraqi. Here's what it's like.
You're driving along
and you see a couple of soldiers standing by the side of the road -
but that's a pretty ubiquitous sight in Baghdad, so you don't think
anything of it. Next thing you know, soldiers are screaming at you,
pointing their rifles and swiveling tank guns in your direction, and
you didn't even know it was a checkpoint.
If it's confusing
for me - and I'm an American - what is it like for Iraqis who don't
speak English?
In situations like
this, I've often had Iraqi drivers who step on the gas. It's a natural
reaction: Angry soldiers are screaming at you in a language you don't
understand, and you think they're saying "get out of here,"
and you're terrified to boot, so you try to drive your way out.
Another problem is that the US troops tend to have two-stage checkpoints.
First there's a knot of Iraqi security forces standing by a sign that
says, in Arabic and English, "Stop or you will be shot." Most
of the time, the Iraqis will casually wave you through.
Your driver, who
slowed down for the checkpoint, will accelerate to resume his normal
speed. What he doesn't realize is that there's another, American checkpoint
several hundred yards past the Iraqi checkpoint, and he's speeding toward
it. Sometimes, he may even think that being waved through the first
checkpoint means he's exempt from the second one (especially if he's
not familiar with American checkpoint routines).
I remember one terrifying
day when my Iraqi driver did just that. We got to a checkpoint manned
by Iraqi troops. Chatting and smoking, they waved us through without
a glance.
Relieved, he stomped
down on the gas pedal, and we zoomed up to about 50 miles per hour before
I saw the second checkpoint up ahead. I screamed at him to stop, my
translator screamed, and the American soldiers up ahead looked as if
they were getting ready to start shooting.
After I got my driver
to slow down and we cleared the second checkpoint, I made him stop the
car. My voice shaking with fear, I explained to him that once he sees
a checkpoint, whether it's behind him or ahead of him, he should drive
as slowly as possible for at least five minutes.
He turned to me,
his face twisted with the anguish of making me understand: "But
Mrs. Annia," he said, "if you go slow, they notice you!"
This feeling is
a holdover from the days of Saddam, when driving slowly past a government
building or installation was considered suspicious behavior. Get caught
idling past the wrong palaces or ministry, and you might never be seen
again.
I remember parking
outside a ministry with an Iraqi driver, waiting to pick up a friend.
After sitting and staring at the building for about half an hour, waiting
for our friend to emerge, the driver shook his head.
"If you even
looked at this building before, you'd get arrested," he said, his
voice full of disbelief. Before, he would speed past this building,
gripping the wheel, staring straight ahead, careful not to even turn
his head. After 35 years of this, Iraqis still speed up when they're
driving past government buildings - which, since the Americans took
over a lot of them, tend be to exactly where the checkpoints are.
Fear of insurgents
and kidnappers are another reason for accelerating, and in that scenario,
speeding up and getting away could save your life. Many Iraqis know
somebody who's been shot at on the road, and a lot of people survived
only because they stepped on the gas.
This fear comes
into play at checkpoints because US troops are often accompanied by
a cordon of Iraqi security forces - and a lot of the assassinations
and kidnappings have been carried out by Iraqi security forces or people
dressed in their uniforms. Often the Iraqi security forces are the first
troops visible at checkpoints. If they are angry-looking and you hear
shots being fired, it becomes easier to misread the situation and put
the pedal to the metal.
A couple of times
soldiers have told me at checkpoints that they had just shot somebody.
They're not supposed to talk about it, but they do. I think the soldiers
really needed to talk about it. They were traumatized by the experience.
This is not what
they wanted - really not what they wanted - and the whole checkpoint
experience is confusing and terrifying for them as well as for the Iraqis.
Many of them have probably seen people get killed or injured, including
friends of theirs. You can imagine what it's like for them, wondering
whether each car that approaches is a normal Iraqi family or a suicide
bomber.
The essential problem
with checkpoints is that the Americans don't know if the Iraqis are
"friendlies" or not, and the Iraqis don't know what the Americans
want them to do.
I always wished
that the American commanders who set up these checkpoints could drive
through themselves, in a civilian car, so they could see what the experience
was like for civilians. But it wouldn't be the same: They already know
what an American checkpoint is, and how to act at one - which many Iraqis
don't.
Is there a way to
do checkpoints right? Perhaps, perhaps not. But it seems that the checkpoint
experience perfectly encapsulates the contradictions and miseries and
misunderstandings of everyone's common experience - both Iraqis and
Americans - in Iraq.
© 2005 The
Christian Science Monitor. All rights reserved.