Baghdad’s Class of ’06 eyes uncertain future

BAGHDAD (Reuters) - At last, the time for learning has come to an end and I have completed my four years of study at Baghdad University. I packed up my books, papers and pens on the last day of finals and have pinned on the wall the only memento I have of the Class of 2006 -- a group picture on graduation day. One question hangs over every face. Do we stay? Or do we go abroad, hoping for a better life? Studying in Iraq was never easy. When we began our course in 2002, Saddam Hussein was still in power, and years of oppression and sanctions had taken their toll on the education system. The looting that followed the U.S. invasion in April 2003 wreaked further damage; books and furniture were stolen and some libraries and classrooms burned. I recall the sweltering heat of July 2003, doing exams with no electricity to power air conditioning or fans in temperatures of 45 degrees Celsius (115 Fahrenheit). As I juggled my English degree with a job as a Reuters reporter, there were other hardships too. Black banners mourning a student or a professor, killed "perfidiously" in a violent act, were scattered on most of the department's walls, serving as a reminder that death is near. Last year, a 23-year-old classmate was shot and killed in front of his house for no clear reason. The next day, Akram's gloomy fellow students mourned his death with a strike. This year, on the eve of a linguistics exam, a brother of Zahraa, another classmate, was snatched from outside his home. His weeping sister said the kidnappers made a mistake. A few hours later, he was released. For a ransom of $2,000. Many other burdens shadow you. Living on the far bank of the Tigris from campus has stopped many students from attending classes and sometimes made them miss an examination or two. I've been stuck for hours on bridges or in slow-motion traffic. Once it made me miss a test on the poet Shelley. As life gets harder, the psychological impact cuts deeper. Maiss, a hard worker, lost her father this year. He was gunned down on his way to work. As a result, she missed the second semester. Shadows of death and horror are prevalent. But the rhythm of life continues. Last month, the "War Class" of 2006 celebrated their graduation. Smartly dressed students with smiling faces, holding roses, posed for pictures; moments in which laughter and tears are chronicled. The English faculty's corridors were decorated with balloons and colored banners. The favorites were those with comic drawings of professors and their famous quotes in class. A wooden plaque above the main doorway bore a few promising words written in bold: "Life goes on." Despite an atmosphere plagued by fear, the sign summed up the hope of a better future. Hit songs by Western and Arab singers could be heard, while fresh graduates danced in a cautious carnival under tight security. For hours everything went well, until a loud explosion nearby muddled the air. But the blast could not stop me from asking: "What's next?" Zina replied that she would leave for Jordan "for good". Ali was undecided on his future. I plan to leave my country. But as the party went on, hope seemed to rise for some. Teeba said she would apply for a masters course next year, then pursue an academic career in Baghdad: "I'll stay right here," she said.

For more information on War Kids Relief visit, http://www.vvaf.org/programs/war-kids-relief/