News brings joy, anger, confusion

Jasib Faraj Muadi was at the barber shop when his friend came in about 1:30 p.m. and told him that he had heard the former dictator had been found north of the capital. It was joyous news for a neighborhood inhabited by Iraqi Shi'ite Muslims, where practically everyone seems to have had a relative, friend, or acquaintance who was tortured or killed during the former dictator's regime. The room broke out in dance.

"We were not truly free until today," said Muadi, a 29-year-old shopowner.

For a people who for more than a decade were forced to stare at Hussein's glorified image on everything from billboards and paintings in museums to school books, the television images of Hussein with a puffy face, an overgrown beard, and hair askew were a jolting sign of the end of an era.

The arrest of Hussein for many was as significant as April 9, the day when US troops first marched into Baghdad. Some groups rejoiced, especially Shi'ites and Kurds, who had been treated harshly by Hussein. But in other parts of the city, Hussein's supporters lamented his capture and vowed to continue to fight the US occupation of Iraq.

At the headquarters of the Patriotic Union of Kurdistan, a band played in the front yard. Near the traffic circle where the infamous statue of Hussein once stood, strangers congregated and debated what his capture would mean for the future of the country.

All around the capital, residents gathered in the streets to wave Iraqi flags and throw candy. They took to rooftops to fire celebratory gunshots, which filled the afternoon sky.

But the celebration was tempered by confusion. Some were skeptical that the US military got the right man, noting that Hussein employed many look-alikes. Others worried about how Hussein's capture would affect the security situation. They asked: Would seeing him in such a disheveled and defeated state discourage the resistance, or would it make him a martyr of sorts that would incite more violence?

A few miles west, in the Sunni-dominated neighborhood of Adhamiya, there was anger and sadness. About 200 young men whose faces were hidden by red-and-white scarves gathered in front of the mosque where the dictator was last seen before US troops swarmed the city and chanted, "We will never give up Iraq and Saddam Hussein."

They marched down the streets of the neighborhood firing guns into the air as they mourned the loss of their leader. "He was like a father to Iraqi people. He struggled and fought against Israel and others who would hurt us," said Mohammed Azawi, 33. Azawi predicted that people would seek their revenge with a new wave of attacks. "You are going to witness some very black days," he warned.

Abdul Qader Rasim Mohammed, 26, a designer, was also upset about Hussein's capture and said he only realized how good things were under his reign when the coalition came in. "In the days of Saddam, people were very comfortable and happy, excluding politics. Fuel, cooking gas, electricity -- everything was available. Now we can't even get the basics, and we see no security. We are locking our doors, and our guns are in our hands," Mohammed said.

In Shi'ite-dominated areas like Sadr City and in places where Kurds gathered, the happiness was especially obvious. Under the old regime, ethnic and religious divisions dominated daily life. Being a minority Sunni Muslim like Hussein meant easier access to the best colleges and government jobs. Shi'ite Muslims, who make up the majority of the country, were repressed, as were Kurds in the north.

"I wish I had a megaphone, so I could stand on the tower of Baghdad and announce it to all the Iraqi people," said Maeda Muhsin, 50, who owns a pharmacy in Sadr City and was driving with her son Haidr Galib, 26, when she heard the report.

Taha Faili, 42, a biology professor at Ambar University, said he and his wife cried when they heard the news as he thought of his fellow Kurds who were killed in Hussein-ordered mass executions in the 1980s. "The millions he executed, it is like they are alive again," he said.