Four Years Later, Regret

I don't want to write another post about the ill-advised invasion, or the miserable state of the occupation. I did a little of that a few weeks back, on the anniversary of the invasion of Iraq. Today, on the anniversary of the fall of Baghdad, the day I literally felt my heart sink, I leave you with the reality of "liberation".

One way I have felt closer and more hurt by this war is because one of my closest friends is Iraqi. When her great aunt and uncle were brutally murdered in their home a few years back, I felt the reality of the numbers I heard everyday. When her recently wed cousin was also killed in Iraq, I did not know what to tell her. Today, she spoke to one of her cousins on the phone... a young girl who is too mature for her age, one of many that have become adults as a result of living through this war. Today, the 14-year old told my friend...

"I hated Saddam, I really did. He hurt Jido* a lot. But the day his statue came down in Baghdad 4 years ago, that's the day Iraq died. And thats the day we all died."

Another powerful account is that of a man who helped in the oft televised image of the Saddam statue being brought down by Iraqis and American soldiers. The Post profiles his story...

"We got rid of a tyrant and tyranny. But we were surprised that after one thief had left, another 40 replaced him," said Jubouri, who is a Shiite Muslim. "Now, we regret that Saddam Hussein is gone, no matter how much we hated him."

(*Jido: grandpa)