Edited for brevity.
The graffiti marking nearly every wall in Baghdad is obscene, inaccurate and often hilarious. Exercising a newfound freedom of political expression, Baghdad’s warring scribes scratch out each other’s manifestos and superimpose their own, turning miles of gray concrete walls into a cacophony of public opinion. In a city where graffiti was once punishable by death, there’s barely a surface that doesn’t shout a political position, from the sacred — "We will return with the army of Muhammad" — to the vulgar: "Saddam, eat [expletive]." "This is a very dangerous matter, this matter of the writing," says retired army officer Amir Nayef Toma, 52. "Because through it, you can understand the entire feelings of a people — their suffering, their feelings and even their hopes." Mr. Toma is the Virgil of Baghdad’s graffiti inferno. A full-time scholar of the word, he wanders through the city transcribing the nocturnal tirades and translating them into English. For the price of a cup of tea, he will conduct a guided tour of the raucous new marketplace of ideas.
The journey begins in Bab al-Muatham, near Baghdad’s old city. "Everyone is erasing everyone else," says Mr. Toma, pointing to a snarl of slogans in yellow, black and blue paint. "Look, what can you understand from this?" "Saddam eats beans ...," begins a scrawl in dirty ocher. "Iraqis, when they say this word, mean that he runs away," explains Mr. Toma, delicately translating an offending verb as "gives air from someplace in his body."
Must be a sneeze...
A yard or two further, the same ocher handwriting declares, "Death to the traitor Saddam Hussein." Another writer has tried, unsuccessfully, to scratch out the word "traitor," and lamely retorts, in blue paint, that "Saddam Hussein is more honorable." "The Ba’ath Party is the party of filth," declares ocher. "Long live Iraq, long live Saddam, and long live the honorable Iraqi resistance," comes the blue Ba’athist’s frustrated reply. "The Ba’ath is the party of pimps," responds ocher. To this, the blue scribbler has no reply. "Come out, you Ba’ath, and let the hate wash over you," taunts ocher, perhaps a little disappointed. But blue is silent; the battle is over, at least on this wall. |